The Werewolf

IN the reign of Egbert the Saxon there dwelt in Britain a maiden named
Yseult, who was beloved of all, both for her goodness and for her
beauty. But, though many a youth came wooing her, she loved Harold
only, and to him she plighted her troth.

Among the other youth of whom Yseult was beloved was Alfred, and he
was sore angered that Yseult showed favor to Harold, so that one day
Alfred said to Harold: "Is it right that old Siegfried should come
from his grave and have Yseult to wife?" Then added he, "Prithee, good
sir, why do you turn so white when I speak your grandsire's name?"

Then Harold asked, "What know you of Siegfried that you taunt me? What
memory of him should vex me now?"

"We know and we know," retorted Alfred. "There are some tales told us
by our grandmas we have not forgot."

So ever after that Alfred's words and Alfred's bitter smile haunted
Harold by day and night.