this reason, seest thou, I suffer the hardened sinner below there to lie in such swinish plight. Ignorant folk would call it cruel; it is in truth pure compassion. How long thinkest thou the most hardened offender can hold out such captivity without repenting of his misdeeds and creeping to the cross?"

"Ay, there doubtless you are in the right, master! You have pious and fatherly manner, and even generously exposed yourself to the risk of drawing down on you the king's wrath a second time, simply for the sake of exercising true Christian compassion, and saving the sinner's soul; but he is insensible to it, the scoundrel. His obstinacy is matchless. Could you believe it, master? Notwithstanding all you do to bring him to repentance and conversion, he curses you, nevertheless, every hour of the day, and wishes you may come to suffer a thousand times more torments in hell than you have here caused him to undergo out of pure Christian charity!"

"I can well believe it, Morten; from such sort of folk one should never look for gratitude; but the roof and ceiling are in too sorry a plight," muttered the steward looking around him: "under the blue sky he needs not to sleep, either; it might be dangerous besides."

"It was done according to your own order, master," resumed the cook in a credulous tone, and staring with an air of simplicity at the holes in the ceiling and the roof, "else it could never have rained down on that confounded Satan. Of a surety he will let alone flying with the owls through the roof; and when the nights are cold, a little rain and hail are right proper means of bringing him to reflection and confession of his sins."

"Well, it is true, Morten; I myself partly commanded it: but one should have moderation in all things; it should not appear as if the roof had been uncovered on purpose. Evil tongues will have plenty to talk of as it is. To-morrow the roof shall be repaired. Some small holes may remain--they will not catch the eye--fresh air is wholesome; even a little rain and snow may have their use. Not a rain-drop falls to the earth, Morten, but it may prove a means for the conversion of a hardened sinner."

"Ah, master," said Morten, with a tremulous voice and clasped hands, "you should, by my troth, have been a bishop: you often speak so touchingly and edifyingly that the tears start into mine eyes."

"Well," answered the steward with a self-satisfied smile, "I was, indeed, once intended to become a churchman, and though I got not the tonsure, I nevertheless learned many pious and useful truths during my noviciate; but it is not sufficient to know the truth, we must, by my troth, know how to use it for one's own and one's fellow-creature's salvation."

"Ah, yes, master," resumed Morten, with a devout look, "who is there can say that with as good a conscience as yourself? 'Tis a hard calling for a pious Christian conscience and a compassionate soul like yours, to be forced to play such bloodhound and hangman's tricks on a poor captive; but what will not one do for duty and precious virtue's sake, and to save an erring soul! Such a pious bloodhound and hangman----"

"Hold thy tongue, Morten," interrupted the steward; "thou must never use such words in speaking of thy master, however well and honestly thou meanst it. But hark! he speaks below there: canst hear what he says? It seems to me it is Latin or Greek."

The cook threw himself on his stomach and laid his ear close to the hole in the floor. "Our Lady preserve us!" he whispered with a look of affright, "he is calling on Aristoteles, the devil's schoolmaster, and is giving him directions about you; he swears that you are right ready to enter his school."

"Ay, indeed, it is just like the ungodly scoundrel! but I thought I heard another voice--there is surely no one with him?"

Morten listened again. "Master! heard you that?" he exclaimed, springing up with a look of terror, and looking towards the door as if he meant to escape.

"How now? What's that? What hath possessed thee, Morten? What heardest thou?"

"Stoop down your ear to the hole, master, and you shall hear. Our Lady graciously preserve us! The Evil One is manifestly with him. He is to fetch you at midnight if you do not presently give his good friend, the archbishop, meat and wine and clean garments. Only listen yourself!"

The steward cast a suspicious look at the cook, yet stooped to listen at the hole, keeping his eye all the while on Morten and the terrified turnkeys. He had not remained long in this position, ere he rose up deadly pale, and the name of Jesper Mogensen, accompanied by the sound of smothered and unnatural laughter, rung hollow as from an abyss, and in a voice wholly unlike the archbishop's. "Heard ye it not yourself, master?" said Morten; "he who now calls on you I desire not to see near me."

"Silence!" whispered the steward, stooping again with a look of alarm towards the crevice in the floor.

"Jesper Mogensen!" said the same terrific voice as if directly under his feet, "cherish my learned master and customer, or I will break thy neck, and turn inside out thy hypocritical soul."

While this voice rang through the chamber the turnkeys lay flat on their faces on the floor, and repeated their Avemaria. The steward trembled and shook; but Morten's cheeks now glowed crimson, and his eyes watered, as if affected by some secret exertion, while his lips were firmly compressed, and he stood apparently speechless with terror.

"Then let him have what he wants," stammered forth the steward. "If there are such tricks in the game, neither Junker Christopher, nor any one else, can require me to peril my life and soul any longer. Set thee to roast for the bishop in Satan's name, Morten! Let him eat and drink himself to death if he pleases! but escape he shall not, let him have ever so many devils for his friends."

"You will find it hard to hinder him, master," said Morten in a timid tone; "he who so can roar would deem it a small matter to fly through the key-hole with a bishop."

"I must see that, ere I believe it," said the steward, who appeared to have regained his self-possession, and recovered from his fright. "Thou art an honest fellow, Morten, but thou art somewhat credulous and simple--there is perhaps some trick in this. But this I would have thee, and all of ye, to know--if I smell a rat, or if any of ye have the least hand or part in this devilry, ye shall rue it dearly: ye shall be burned alive, or broken on the wheel, as surely as there is law and justice in the land."

"Our Lady preserve us, master!" exclaimed the terrified turnkeys in the same breath.

"I tell ye," continued the steward, "'tis nought else but trick and treachery. To try him below there, I will let him have good cheer and cleanliness for a time; but if he kicks up any more riots of this kind, he shall below in the dungeon again: and this I tell ye, knaves! if any of you dare help him to flight, one for all, and all for one, ye shall be hanged! Ye shall all three watch here to-night."

"Alack! we dare not, master!" said the old turnkey. "If there is sorcery in the tower, we dare not stay here, unless Morten the cook stay too, to keep up our courage."

"Stay, then, with these stupid knaves to-night, Morten!" said the steward. "After all thou art the wisest among them. I shall owe thee for it, and to-morrow I shall get fellows enough with some spirit in them."

"It is all one to me, master!" answered Morten. "I will keep up their spirits tonight. He who, like you and I, hath a good conscience, need not fear a few devil's tricks."