The shouts of the rabble attracted others from a distance, and thus in a short time the cathedral was full of people; some, like Barbara Trond's first assailants, inclined for mischief, but a large number merely spectators, as we were. The mob began to shout now one thing, now another. "Down with these Romish mummeries! down with the idols!" were the cries we chiefly heard.

"It is well that my walls have no ears; but if a Netherlander were to utter them, I would not answer for the consequences." I could not understand Dame Trond's character. That she was an impostor I had no doubt. She certainly was not an adherent of the Church of Rome, and still more certainly she had no knowledge of Christianity.

We hastened on to Dame Trond's house. As we passed through the streets, loud salvos of artillery and the rattling sound of musketry reached our ears, fired in honour of the ruler of the Netherlands or his statue; as A'Dale remarked, it was hard to say which. On reaching the witch's abode, I knocked as before at the door. We were speedily admitted.

It was that same afternoon, when they sat together smoking their pipes under the huge old pine in the yard, it was then Lage inquired about the young man's name and family; and the young man said that his name was Trond Vigfusson, that he had graduated at the University of Christiania, and that his father had been a lieutenant in the army; but both he and Trond's mother had died, when Trond was only a few years old.