Page:Popular Tales and Romances of the Northern Nations (Volume 3).djvu/193

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The Fatal Marksman.
181

ready he was on the point of returning, when suddenly a voice appeared to whisper to him: “Fool! hast thou not already accepted magical help: is it only for the trouble of reaping it, that thou would’st forego the main harvest of its gifts?” He stood still. The moon issued in splendor from behind a dark cloud, and illuminated the peaceful roof of the forester’s cot tage. He could see Katharine’s chamber window, glancing under the silvery rays; in the blindness of love, he stretched out his arms towards if, and mechanically stepped homewards. Then came a second whisper from the voice; for a sudden gust of wind brought the sound of the clock striking the half hour: “Away to business!” it seemed to say. “Right, right!” he said aloud, “Away to business! It is weak, and childish, to turn back from a business half accomplished; it is folly to renounce the main advantage, having already perhaps risked one’s salvation for a trifle. No: let me go through with it.”

He stepped forwards with long strides; the wind drove the agitated clouds, again over the