The fireworks were now ended, and much admiration was expressed by the spectators. The king roused himself from the mood into which he had been thrown by the faithful AagÉ's farewell, and the Marsk's sternness.

"Where is the master of that fair pageant?" he said aloud; "where is the learned Thrand Fistlier?"

"Here, most gracious sovereign!" said a discordant self-satisfied voice, close beside the king; and Master Thrand stepped forth from the dark avenue, with his amanuensis, the youthful Master Laurentius, by his side--

"If my poor skill hath pleased the royal and lordly company, I esteem it a high pleasure and honour."

"You have surprised us in the most agreeable manner;" said the king, "but what I have seen will please me still more, if you will explain to us the ways and means by which such beautiful results are produced."

"The whole is insignificant, in comparison with what I yet purpose, according to promise, to show your grace!" answered the artist, bowing humbly; "it is a masterpiece that requires but a moment's time. The ways and means by which I produce it belong partly to one of my great Master Bacon's most important discoveries, which he hath indeed named in his writings, but hath not clearly and minutely explained. It is a discovery which may easily be abused, and therefore can only be entrusted to the initiated. I am the only one of his pupils who fully comprehend it. I have myself considerably extended and substantiated what was to my master rather a profound conjecture, than an actual discovery, and I trust I shall not be deemed vain, if I expect, even in preference to my great master, to be immortalised by it in the history of science----"

"Well, well!" interrupted the king, "what is it?"

"The only person to whom I have imparted something of this important secret," continued Master Thrand, with a proud look, without suffering himself to be abashed, "is my pupil Master Laurentius; but I have not as yet been able to initiate him in the deepest mysteries of an art which will perhaps require centuries ere it be fully revealed to the prejudiced human race. With you wise king! and with these enlightened nobles and scholars, I make honourable exception, in showing you what I have not even as yet shown my pupil, and what I now, for the first time, and in an altogether novel manner, am about to reduce from theory to a decisive practical result. If this marvellous art is not to die with me----"

"You expect to become immortal, no doubt. Master Thrand!" interrupted the king again, somewhat impatiently, "and if I understand you aright, even in the proper signification of the word; if your art enables you to set even death at defiance, your important invention can never be in danger of perishing from the world. Let us now see what you laud so highly, and keep not our expectation longer on the stretch! You diminish by it even the surprise you have perhaps intended us."

"Instantly! most mighty king!" answered the artist in a lowered tone, and produced a calf-skin, which he rolled up and placed on the ground. He then took out of his pocket a small, unknown substance, of some few inches thickness, which he placed under it, and commenced several other preparations, seemingly just as simple and trivial. "Now place yourself there, your grace!" he resumed, "and give close heed! Quit not your place until you see me withdraw. Let the ladies step aside, it might perhaps alarm those who are weakly, although there is no danger whatever. As soon as I light this torch and bring it into contact with this simple apparatus, you will hear a voice like that which nature's great spirit sends forth from the clouds of heaven, to announce his sovereignty over all the earth, as lord of life and death; but this voice obeys my bidding and my will--now mark!" The ladies stepped aside and looked inquisitively towards the artist. Some of the noble guests drew nearer; others drew back with suspicion. The king stood silent and attentive, on the spot assigned him. The learned Master Petrus de Dacia stood nearest him; his eyes were raised towards the clear bright stars, and he appeared occasionally to look on the little mountebank and his whole proceedings, with a kind of contemptuous pity. Count Henrik was not present; at the Drost's suggestion he had employed himself in securing the castle against every possible attack of the outlaws, some of whom were supposed to have been recognised among the masked wedding guests who, however, had already escaped.

The expectation of the whole assemblage was now turned towards the exhibition of art, which had been so pompously announced. The mysterious artist was still busied with his preparations, and appeared himself somewhat thoughtful and hesitating. He lighted a torch at some distance, and took a book out of his pocket, which he appeared to consult. He had placed a pair of large spectacles before his eyes, and as he thus stood in the torch-light, with his deformed figure and fiery red mantle, he resembled a goblin or a fire-gnome, rather than a human being. He presently replaced the book in his pocket, and lighted another torch.

"Stop your ears with this, your grace!" whispered the considerate Master Laurentius, handing a couple of wax-balls to the king, "from what I know of this specimen of art, it may have a stunning and injurious effect on the hearing." The king nodded and followed his advice. The artist now held the lighted torch in his hand; the red flame lit up his face--it was expressive of a fearful degree of agitation--every muscle was horribly, almost convulsively, distorted--He approached slowly with the torch towards the mysterious apparatus, and most of the spectators drew back with apprehension. The king stood calm and attentive in his place, by the side of Master Petrus de Dacia, with his foot on the rolled-up hide.

"Hence! back! life is at stake!" said a voice behind him in a frantic tone. The king felt himself forcibly grasped by a powerful hand, and at the same moment a fearful explosion, resembling a clap of thunder, was heard, with a flash as of a thousand combined lightnings; many persons fell to the ground with a cry of horror. The ladies swooned--a cloud of smoke encompassed them, with a suffocating sulphureous vapour. The terrible artist himself lay mangled and lifeless on the grass, with the extinguished torch in his hand. Master Laurentius threw himself upon the body in grief; there was a fearful panic and confusion.

The king stood unscathed a few steps from the corpse of the wretched Thrand, and now first perceived who had dragged him from his dangerous position. It was his own brother Christopher, who, with his Duke's diploma crumpled in his left hand, and with his right still convulsively grasping the king's arm, stood pale as death gazing on the lifeless philosopher. "The judgment of God!" he said in a deep and scarcely audible voice. He quitted his hold of his brother's arm, and then, as if pursued by evil spirits, rushed into the dark avenue, and disappeared.

"Christopher! What is this?" said the king in a low voice, as he looked after him, with a horrible conjecture, but he quickly recovered himself, and hastened to attend his bride and the terrified ladies. "The danger is over," he said with calmness, "but this specimen of art hath cost the artist his life. If he hath spoken truth, his dangerous art hath perished with him, and the whole world is lapsed into barbarism and ignorance. He was a wise and learned man," he added, as he saw most of the company tranquillised, but heard the suspicion of treachery loudly expressed--"Let us not judge his intentions! perhaps he hath sacrificed life as a martyr to his science--'twas pity, however, he would personate our Lord; the Almighty lets himself not be mocked."

None were injured but the hapless artist, and the company soon returned composed and thoughtful to the illuminated avenues in the garden. Ingeborg's fears were calmed and she clung tenderly to her bridegroom's arm. It appeared to her and to all, as if an inconceivable miracle had saved the king's life and crushed his treacherous foes. The report of the king's peril had interrupted the bridal festivities; but wherever he showed himself the music and merriment again commenced, and the royal bridal pair were followed back to the castle, with almost deafening acclamations.

While the bridemaids conducted the bride to the bridal chamber the king repaired to his private apartment. He went in silence to his prie-dieu, bent his knee before the holy crucifix, and became absorbed in silent prayer. He had shut the door after him, and believed he was alone with God on this spot, to which none beside himself and his confessors had access; but he presently heard some one moving behind him, and he arose. Junker Christopher stood before him, with his wild countenance bathed in tears. "My brother!" he exclaimed, with outstretched arms, "I have sinned against the Lord and against thee; I am not worthy to be called thy brother. Canst thou forgive me what I cannot name? Canst thou forgive me for the sake of our murdered father's soul, and for the sake of the All-merciful, who blots out every transgression?"

"Christopher!" said the king, in a tone of the greatest consternation, gazing fixedly on him with a piercing look, "thou wouldest--thou knewest----"

"Say not what I willed--say not what I knew!" interrupted the junker, in a choking voice, and covering his face with both his hands; "but give me thy hand, if thou canst, and say.--'I am reconciled,' and by the Almighty, who hath struck me with horror, thou shalt see this face no more ere I can say, 'Brother! now hath the great and terrible God forgiven me, as thou hast forgiven me!'"

"Christopher! brother! my father's son!" exclaimed Eric; the tears gushed from his eyes, and he hastened towards his humbled brother with open arms. "Come to my heart! may the merciful Lord forgive thee as I have forgiven thee!" and the brothers sank in each other's arms. "Amen!" said a friendly voice beside them. The king's confessor, the pious Master Petrus de Dacia, who had led the despairing Christopher hither, stepped forth from a niche in the chamber, and laid his hand on their heads in token of blessing.

"This day hath now become the happiest of my life," said Eric, and went arm-in-arm with the junker out of the private chamber.