On the inside of this door was an oval convex mirror. Looking in it for some time, we at length saw reflected the place where we stood, and the old dame seated in her chair. Our forms were not reflected. But at the feet of the dame lay a young man, yourself, weeping. The old woman smiled.
Tears are the only cure for weeping.
And you may have need of the cure, before you go forth to fight the giants. I rose, and threw off my upper garments. Rest is as needful as toil. Before the meal Page 260 was over, I had learned all their story. Each had something in his heart which made the conviction, that he would victoriously perish in the coming conflict, a real sorrow to him.