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 sat in his council room alone, save for the guard who stood at the door. The voice of a woman was heard asking Unas for admission. Olaf lifted his head and listened. He had been writing on his tablets some dimensions of his new ships. The guard entered the room, “My King,” he said, “there wait without a lady nobly attired and her thrall maiden.”

“Bid them enter, Unas,” said the king, and pushed aside his writing materials, preparatory to the interview.

As his visitor came into the room, Olaf noted her stately deportment, her handsome countenance and her costly garments. The lady had passed her youth, and seemed to he of a commanding character. Her expression at this moment, however, was one of distress; and her whole behavior spoke of agitation. King Olaf rose to receive her. She came rapidly towards him and extended her hands in a gesture of supplication. Before the king could give her greeting, she burst forth in a tearful address:

“O bravest of Norsemen! Most valiant King Olaf! Thou dost see before thee a poor, unhappy,