"But now thou art lying in the chapel," muttered he in a whisper.
Diedrich, thinking that the comtur was speaking to him, raised the lantern and lighted his face, which was terribly pale, almost corpse-like, and also resembling the head of an aged vulture.
"Lead on!" said Siegfried.
The yellow circle of light from the lantern trembled again on the snow, and they went farther. In the thick wall of the storehouse was a recess where a few steps led to a great iron door. Diedrich opened the door and began to descend along steps into the depth of a black passage, raising the lantern with effort to light the way for the comtur. At the foot of the steps was a passage; on the right and left sides of it were the exceedingly low doors of cells for prisoners.
"To Yurand," said Siegfried.
After a while the bolts squeaked and they entered. It was perfectly dark in that hole, therefore Siegfried, not seeing clearly by the dim light of the lantern, commanded to light the torch, and soon in the strong gleam of its flame he saw Yurand lying on straw. The prisoner had fetters on his feet, and on his arms a chain, which was long enough to let him reach food to his mouth. He was dressed in the same penitential bag in which he had stood before the comturs, but it was covered now with dark traces of blood; for on that day in which an end had been put to his fight, when mad from rage and pain they had entangled the knight in a net, the soldiers, wishing to kill the man, had stabbed him a number of times with their halberds. The local chaplain Of Schytno had prevented the killing; the halberd thrusts had not proved mortal, but so much blood had left Yurand that he was taken half-dead to the prison. It was thought by all at the castle that he might die any hour, but his great strength had conquered death, and he lived though his wounds were not dressed, and he was thrust into that dreadful dungeon, where moisture dropped for whole days from the ceiling, and where in time of frost the walls were covered with a thick, snow-like coating and with ice-crystals.
He lay enchained on the straw, powerless, but so immense that, especially when prostrate, he produced the impression of a piece of a cliff cut into human form. Siegfried gave command to turn the light straight to his face, and for some time the old man gazed on it in silence, then, turning to Diedrich, he said,—
