{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_44746/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_44746","id":"gutenberg_44746","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44746","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Folklore -- Austria -- Tyrol"],"text":"HOUSEHOLD STORIES\n                         FROM THE LAND OF HOFER\n\n                                  OR,\n\n                        POPULAR MYTHS OF TIROL,\n                             INCLUDING THE\n                      ROSE-GARDEN OF KING LAREYN.\n\n\n\n                                   BY\n                  THE AUTHOR OF \"PATRA\u00d1AS; OR, SPANISH\n                             STORIES,\" &c.\n\n                    WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY T. GREEN.\n\n\n\n\n                                LONDON:\n                          GRIFFITH AND FARRAN,\n                   SUCCESSORS TO NEWBERY AND HARRIS,\n                    CORNER OF ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD.\n                               MDCCCLXXI.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n      LONDON: GILBERT AND RIVINGTON, PRINTERS, ST. JOHN'S SQUARE.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n                                                          PAGE\n    Introduction                                             1\n    Norg Myths                                              13\n\n        1. The Eggshells                                    14\n        2. The Reckoning Day                                15\n        3. Fritzl and the Tarnkappe                         22\n        4. The Rose-garden of King Lareyn                   26\n\n\n    Myths of North and South Tirol.\n\n        The Nickel of the R\u00f6hrerb\u00fcchel                      73\n        The Wilder J\u00e4ger and the Baroness                  110\n        The Grave Prince and the Beneficent Cat            131\n        Klein-Else                                         158\n        Prince Radpot                                      188\n        The Three Black Dogs                               207\n        Ottilia and the Death's Head                       217\n        The Two Caskets                                    229\n        The Prudent Counsellor                             235\n        The Geeseherds                                     253\n        St. Peter's Three Loaves                           265\n\n\n    Myths of W\u00e4lsch-Tirol.\n\n        The two Cousins of St. Peter                       273\n        Luxehale's Wives (including the Legends of the\n        Marmolata)                                         278\n        Zovanin Senza Paura; or, the Boy who went out to\n        discover Fear                                      335\n        The Dove-Maiden                                    356\n\n\n    Myths of Vorarlberg.\n\n        Kriselda                                           386\n        The Golden Pears                                   394\n        How the Poorest became the Richest                 403\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nHOUSEHOLD STORIES\nFROM THE LAND OF HOFER.\n\n\nINTRODUCTION.\n\n\n\"Blessed are the people of whom history is silent; for\nhistory occupies itself more with the doings of fools than of\nthe wise; with storms than with tranquil days: it immortalizes\nthe butcher and the tyrant, and consigns to oblivion\nthe innocent and peaceful.\"--Cibrario.\n\n\nSomething of the deep, strong attachment to their native mountains\nwhich is innate in the children of the Alps steals over me when I\nthink of my pleasant journeyings in Tirol [1].\n\nThough it is a little, out-of-the-way country whose cry is seldom heard\nin the newspapers, though it exercises little influence in political\ncomplications, the character of its people is one which, next after\nthat of our own, has a claim to our esteem and admiration. Hardy,\npatient, and persevering; patriotic and loyal to a fault; honest and\nhospitable to a proverb--they carry the observance of their religion\ninto the minutest practice of every-day life; and there underlies\nall these more solid qualities a tender, poetical, romantic spirit\nwhich throws a soft halo round their ceaseless toil, and invests\ntheir heroic struggles for independence with a bright glow of chivalry.\n\nSurrounded from their earliest years with living pictures of Nature's\nchoicest forms and colouring, they need no popular fiction to cultivate\ntheir imagination, no schools of design to educate their taste.\n\nShut out from the world's ambitions by their pathless Alps, they have\nlearned to see before them two aims alone,--to maintain the integrity\nand the sanctity of their humble homes on earth, and to obtain one\nday a place in that better Home above, to which the uplifted fingers\nof their sun-bathed mountain-peaks ever gloriously point.\n\nThe paramount claims on their hearts' allegiance of the hearth and\nthe altar are inseparably interwoven in their social code, and their\ncreed scarcely knows of a distinction between Nature and Nature's God.\n\nAt their mother's knee they have learnt, every one, to prattle\nof their Father in heaven with as complete a realization of His\nexistence as of that of their father on earth. Just as they receive\ntheir toil-won food and raiment as an earnest of the paternal care\nof the one, the change of the seasons, the sunshine and the rain,\nbetoken to them as certainly that of the Other. They scarcely trace\nany line of demarcation between the natural and the supernatural;\nand earth and sky are not for them the veil which hides Divinity, but\nthe very temple and shrine of the Godhead dwelling among His creatures.\n\nGoing forth in this simple faith through the pure, unfogged atmosphere\nwhich surrounds them, it is scarce to be wondered at if they can trace\nthe guiding footprints and the unerring hand of Providence where for\nothers are only chances and coincidences. Or that--like the faint\noutline of wished-for land revealing itself to the trained eye of\nthe sailor, where the landsman sees but a hopeless expanse of sky and\nocean--they should recognize a personal will and individuality in the\npowers which are the messengers to them of the good pleasure of Heaven,\nin the germination of fruit and grain, in the multiplication of their\nflocks and herds; or of the envious malice of the Evil One, in the\nwind and the lightning, the torrent and the avalanche, destroying\nthe work of their hands.\n\nIt is necessary to bear this well in mind, or we shall not appreciate\nthe delights which their fantastic tales have in store for us. We\nmust learn to realize that this way of viewing things has created a\nnomenclature, almost a language, of its own.\n\nWhen the boisterous blast sweeps through their valleys, scattering the\nscent of the wild game, and driving them far out of their reach, they\nsay it is the Wilder J\u00e4ger [2], the Beatr\u00eck [3], or the Nachtvolk\n[4], on his chase. Their restless energies, pent up within the\nshelter of their rattling walls and casements, invest him with a\nretinue of pitiless followers and fiery-eyed hounds--while the fate\nof some who have ventured out while he is said to be abroad, blown\nover precipices or lost in crevasses, is expressed by the fancy that\nhis train is closed by a number of empty pairs of shoes, which run\naway with those who come within his influence.\n\nWhen the bright beams of sun and moon enliven their landscape,\nor fructify their seed, or guide their midnight way, they fable of\nthem as beautiful maidens with all sorts of fanciful names derived\nfrom associations as old as the world: Perahta, brightness, daughter\nof Dagha, the daylight--hence, also, Perchtl and Berchtl. In other\nlocalities, Holda or Hulda; in others again, they are known as Angane,\nand Enguane, the Saligen Fra\u00fcelein, Nornen, Zarger Fra\u00fcelein, and\nWeissen Fra\u00fcelein. They say they smile on the overburdened peasant,\nbeguile his labour by singing to him, show him visions of beautiful\nlandscapes, bestow wonderful gifts--loaves which never diminish,\nbowls and skittles, charcoal and corn of pure gold; to the husbandman\nthey give counsels in his farming; to the good housewife an unfailing\nstore--bobbins of linen thread which all her weaving never exhausts;\nthey help the youth or the maiden to obtain the return of the love they\nhave longed for, and have some succour in store for every weary soul.\n\nSuch helpers the people recognize of the masculine gender, also, in\nthe so-called N\u00f6rgl, Pechmannl, P\u00fctzl, Wiehtm\u00e4nnlein, K\u00e4serm\u00e4nnlein,\nand Salvanel; for possibly, they say, not all the angels who rebelled\nwith Lucifer may have been cast into the outer darkness. There may\nhave been some not so evilly disposed themselves, but talked over\nand led astray by others; and such, arrested in their descent by a\nmerciful reprieve, may have been only banished to the desolate and\nstony places of the earth, to tops of barren mountains and fruitless\ntrees. Such as these might be expected to entertain a friendly\nfeeling for the human beings who inhabit the regions which gave them\nshelter, and to be ready to do them a good turn when it lay in their\nway--lift weights, and carry burdens for them up the steep heights,\nand protect their wild game. And, also, it is not inconsistent with\ntheir nature to love to play them a mischievous trick full oft--make\noff with the provision of loaves prepared for the mowers; sit, while\nremaining invisible, on their sledges and increase their difficulty\nand confusion in crossing the mountain-paths lost in snow; entice\nthem into the woods with beseeching voices, and then leave them to\nwander in perplexity; overturn the farm-maids' creaming-pans; roll\nthe Senner's cheeses down the mountain sides.\n\nWorse tricks than these are those of the Wilder Mann. When the soil\nis sterile and ungrateful; when any of the wonted promises of nature\nare unfulfilled; when the axe of the lonely woodman rebounds from\nthe stubborn trunk and wounds him; when the foot of the practised\nmountain-climber fails him on the crisp snow, or the treacherously\nsun-parched heather; when a wild and lawless wight (for such there are\neven in Tirol, though fewer, perhaps, than elsewhere) illtreats the\ngirl who has gone forth to tend her father's flock upon the mountains,\ntrusting in her own innocence and Heaven's help for her protection--it\nis always the Wilder Mann--in some places called the Wilder J\u00f6rgel, in\nothers, the Lorg, the Salvang or Gannes, the Klaubaut or Rastalmann,\nin Vorarlberg, Fengg, Schr\u00e4ttlig, Doggi, and Haberg\u00e2ss--to whose\naccount the misfortune or the misdeed is laid. His female counterpart\nis called Trude and Stampa, and the Langt\u00fcttin.\n\nThe mineral riches of the country, and the miners occupied in\nsearching for them, are told of as of hidden treasure sought after or\nrevealed, as the case may be, by the Bergweib and the Bergmannlein,\nor Erdmannlein, the Venedigermannlein and the Hahnenkekerle, the\nstories of whose strength and generosity, cupidity and spite, are\nendless; while the mountain echoes are the voices of sprites playfully\nimitating the sounds of human life.\n\nIf the mountains and the forests are thus treated, neither are the\nlakes and torrents without their share of personification, and many\nare the legends in which the uses and beauties of the beneficent\nelement are interpreted to be the smiles and the helpful acts of the\nWasserfra\u00fclein, while the mischances which occur at the water's edge\nare ascribed to the Stromkarl and the Br\u00fcckengeist.\n\nThe sudden convulsions of nature to which their soil has been subject\nfrom age to age are all charged with retribution for the sins of the\npeople, like the overthrow of Sodom and Gomorrah and the cities of\nthe plain. Castles and forest possessions of wicked rich men are sunk\nbeneath the waters of lakes so that their foundations may never again\nbe set up, and their place be no more found; while a curse pursues\nthose who attempt to dig out the ill-gotten treasure. Villages\nare recorded to have been swallowed by the earth or buried by the\nsnow-storms when their people have neglected the commandments of God.\n\nThis literal adaptation of the admonitions of Holy Writ receives among\nthis people another development in traditions of instances where good\ndeeds done to the poor have been believed to have been actually done\nto visions of our Lord and of His Saints. Then again, their devout\nbelief in both the irresistible justice and the ineffable love of\nGod convinces them that there must be a place on earth where souls\ntoo soiled for heaven, yet not given over to utter reprobation, may\nwander till the final day of rest. And thus every shepherd, as he keeps\nhis lonely watch upon the Alpine pastures, expects that he may meet\nthe feurige Sennin who broke the Sunday rest; or the Tscheier Friedl\nwho was cruel to the cattle in his charge; or the b\u00fcssender Hirt who\nstole the widow's kine; or the Markegger who removed his neighbour's\nlandmark; or the Pungga-Mannl who swore a false oath; or the feuriger\nVerr\u00e4ther who betrayed the mountain pass to the Roman legions.\n\nOn the other hand, the heroes and types of the Christian faith are\nthought of as taking a perpetual interest in the welfare of their\nstruggling brethren: St. Nothburga and St. Isidore watch over\nthe husbandman, and St. Urban over the vinedresser; St. Martin\nover the mower; St. Martha, St. Sebastian, and St. Rocchus, the\ndrei Pestschutzheiligen [5], are expected to be as potent in their\nintercession now as when at their prayers, when on earth, plagues\nwere stayed. St. Anthony and St. Florian similarly protect against\nfire. St. Vigilius, the evangelizer of the country and martyr to\nhis zeal, is still believed to guard its jealously-preserved unity\nof faith. In return, they receive special veneration: the ordinary\ndealings of life are regulated by the recurrence of their festivals,\nand the memory of sacred mysteries is kept in perpetual honour by\nsetting up their tokens in every homestead and every house, in every\nvineyard and in every field, on every bridge and by every wayside.\n\nIt is not surprising that a people so minded have tales to tell\nof wonderful events which seem to have befallen them, and which\ntake the record of their lives out of the prosaic monotony which\nrules our own,--tales always bearing a wholesome moral lesson,\nalways showing trust in Providence and faith in the World Unseen,\nand always told with the charming simplicity which only a logically\ngrounded expectation that events should turn out even so--and no\ninvention or imagination--can give.\n\nA selection of these tales I have put into English dress in the\nfollowing pages. Though some few of them may be found to bear analogy\nwith similar tales of other German nations, the distinctive qualities\nof the Tirolese, and the peculiar nature of the scenery amid which\nthey have been conceived, will be found to have stamped them with a\ncharacter entirely their own.\n\nI think that what I have said is sufficient to give, to such of my\nreaders as did not possess it already, the key to their application,\nand I need not now append to each a tedious interpretation of the\nfantastic personages and scenes I shall have to introduce.\n\nIt remains only to say a word as to their distribution. The present\nprincipality of Tirol is composed of four provinces. North Tirol,\nSouth Tirol, W\u00e4lsch or Italian Tirol, and Vorarlberg. North and South\nTirol have been for long so closely united that, like their language\nand customs, their mythology has become so intimately intermingled that\nit scarcely comes within the scope of a work like the present to point\nout their few divergences or local peculiarities. But those of W\u00e4lsch\nTirol and Vorarlberg each maintain a much more distinctive character,\nand I have accordingly marked with a separate heading those which I\nhave gathered thence.\n\n\"The Rose-garden of King Lareyn,\" however, is not the peculiar property\nof any one province. Though the three places which claim to occupy its\nsite are all placed in South Tirol, this pretty myth is the common\nproperty of the whole country--its chief popular epic--and has even\npassed into the folklore of other parts of Germany also. It is beside\nthe purpose of the present little work to enter into the controversy\nwhich has been raised concerning the authorship. There can be little\ndoubt, however, that it was originally the utterance of some unknown\nminstrel putting into rough-and-ready rhyme one of the floating myths\nwhich symbolized the conflict of the heroes with the powers of evil,\nso popular in the middle ages. Then poets of more pretensions wrote\nout, and, as they wrote out, improved the song. Thus there are several\ndifferent manuscripts of it extant, of between two and three thousand\nlines each, but not of equal value, for later scribes, in trying\nto improve, overlaid the simple energy of its diction with a feeble\nattempt at ornament which only served to damage its force. The name of\nthe Norg-king who is the subject of it, is in these spelt variously,\nas Lareyn, Luarin, Luarine, &c.; the modern orthography is Laurin. The\nspelling I have adopted is that of the Chronicon of Aventinus.\n\nI have thought it well to precede the story by some account of the\nNorg folk and some samples of their legends, that the reader may not\ncome wholly unacquainted with their traditional character to the tale\nof the discomfiture of the last Norg-king.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nNORG MYTHS.\n\n\nThe Norgen were a mighty folk in olden time in Tirol. In their\nspan-high bodies resided a power which no child of man, were he ever\nso stalwart and well-limbed, could resist. But they were also for\nthe most part a peaceable race, and more inclined to assist than to\nobstruct the industrious inhabitants of the country in their labours;\nso long as they were treated with respect and deference they seldom\ninterfered with any one. Then they were generally scrupulously\nhonourable, and strict keepers of their word. A service rendered\none of them was sure to be repaid a hundredfold. An injury brought\na corresponding retribution, and scorn, contempt, or ridicule roused\ntheir utmost vengeance; while some there were who entertained a true\nspirit of mischief, and indulged in wanton tricks which showed their\ncharacter was not altogether free from malice.\n\nThey were most often to be met in lonely paths and unfrequented\nfastnesses of nature, but a solitary N\u00f6rglein could also occasionally\nstray within the haunts of men, at times asking hospitality at their\nhands, and at others getting into the bedrooms at night, and teasing\nthe children in their sleep, hence the common proverb--\n\n\n       \"Shut the door closely to,\n        Or the Norg will come through [6].\"\n\n\nAnd at other times, again, they would take part in the field and\nhousehold labours, as if they found it sport. The name of Norg\nwas chiefly appropriated to them in South Tirol; in Vorarlberg the\nanalogous cobbold went by the name of Rutschifenggen. Every locality,\nevery valley, every hamlet, and almost every farm, had its own familiar\ndwarf whose doings were handed down as household words.\n\nThus it is told that there was once a countrywoman, who lived in a\nlonely Meierhof [7] of the Passeierthal, standing over her stove,\npreparing a pancake for her husband's dinner, and as he was a great\neater she used an immense number of eggs--three dozen and more--in\nhis pancake: as fast as she broke the eggs into the pan, she threw\nthe shells behind her. Three Norgs came by as she was so occupied\nand amused themselves with playing with them and arranging them into\nall kinds of patterns. The Meierin [8] was a grumpy sort of woman,\nand instead of finding pleasure in the glee of the little people,\ngrew cross with them, and scattered the dirty black ashes among the\negg-shells they had arranged so prettily. Offended at this ill-natured\ntreatment, the Norgs took their departure, but first laid the thread\nof the good wife's spinning-bobbin as a snare across the floor,\nand then stationed themselves outside the window to see what happened.\n\nPresently the husband called to know if the pancake was not ready, and\nthe Meierin, running to satisfy him, with both hands engaged in holding\nthe dish of the enormous pancake, caught her feet in the thread, and\nfell flat on the ground with her face in the dish, while the three\nNorgs completed her vexation by setting up a loud laugh in chorus.\n\nHere is another story of their doings, in which they play a different\npart. There was a storm in the valley of Matsch, and a storm in the\nvalley of Matsch is often a terrible matter. This was one of the\nworst: the pitiless flood streamed down the heights, and threatened\nto overflow the banks of the Hochseen [9]; the wind from the glacier\nhowled dismally over the mountain-sides; the people closed their\ndoors and shutters against the blast, and listened to the roar of the\nelements, trembling with the thought that every moment might come the\nsignal of the inundation which should carry them and their habitations\naway in its torrent. In the solidest and most important house of\nthe straggling village, which bears the same name as the valley,\nwas gathered the family of the richest man of the place, who had no\nreason to share these fears, but with singing and lively conversation\nchased away the dismal influence of the lugubrious sounds without.\n\nSuddenly, between the angry gusts of wind, a doleful voice was heard\npiteously praying for help. One of the party opened the casement,\nand looked out, but with more of curiosity than interest, and then\nquickly closing it again, came back into the room with a laugh to\ndescribe the ludicrous figure he had seen. It was a little mannikin\nwith a beard big enough for a full-grown man, his clothes drenched\nwith the rain, and slung over his shoulder a tiny bundle tied in a\nhandkerchief, which yet seemed to bow him down with its weight. The\ndescription provoked a chorus of laughter, and the wretched little\nNorg--for it was a Norg--would have been no more thought of but that\nhis wail became more irritating than that of the wind, and at last\nthe master of the house got up and shouted to him to go on, for it\nwas useless to stand droning there, he was not going to open his house\nat that time of night, or to such a ridiculous object. But though he\nbanged the window to as closely as possible after delivering himself\nof this speech, the little man's menacing couplet yet reached his ear--\n\n\n       \"The reckoning day\n        Is not far away [10].\"\n\n\nNevertheless the Norg begged no more, but endeavoured to pass on his\nway. He could not get far: the torrents of rain had obliterated the\npath which led from the rising ground on which this house was built,\nto the next, and it was scarcely safe to descend in the dark with the\nloose stones rattling away under the feet. Fortunately a glimmering\nlight betrayed a low hut built into the slope. It looked so poor and\nhumble, that the Norg felt ashamed to ask aught of its inhabitants,\nwho could scarcely have had enough for their own needs; but when he\nsaw how utterly forlorn was his position, he sat down on a stone,\nand wept. Notwithstanding that the poor little Norg had such a\nhoarse voice that it was more like that of a wild animal than a man,\nthere was a compassionate little maid within who perceived it was a\nvoice of distress, and put her head out to ask who was there. \"Poor\nold man!\" she cried; \"come inside and dry yourself, and let me give\nyou something warm.\" But before he could answer he heard a weak voice\nwithin, \"Beware, Theresl, of the wolves--remember we are in 'Matsch der\nW\u00f6lfe Heimath [11].'\" \"Never fear, mother dear,\" replied the maiden,\n\"this is no wolf, but a very distressed little old man, who does not\nlook as if he could harm any one; and besides we are now in June--the\nwolves don't threaten us in the summer,\" and she opened the door,\nand let in the little man.\n\nBy the time she had dried his clothes and fed him with some warm\nsoup, the worst of the storm had abated, and he was able to go on his\nway. The maiden offered him shelter for the night, but he declared\nhe must reach home before midnight, and prepared to depart. Before\nhe left he asked her what there was she most desired. \"Oh, that my\nmother be restored to health!\" answered Theresa; \"I desire nothing\nmore than that!\"\n\nThe Norg walked to the bedside, and informed himself of the\nnature of the sick mother's illness. \"Your mother shall be\ncured,\" said the little man; \"but you must come to me to-morrow\nat midnight to the N\u00f6rgelspitz;\" and as the girl started at the\nimpossibility of the feat, he continued, \"You have only to make\nyour way as far as the Wetterkreuz, and there call three times\n'Kruzinegele! Kruzinegele! Kruzinegele!' and I will be at your side,\nand take you up the rest of the way.\" And he took his departure,\nsinging,--\n\n\n       \"Morgen oder Heut\n        Kommt die Zahlzeit.\"\n\n\nThe next night Theresa courageously set out on her way, and climbed\nas far as the Wetterkreuz--and it was lucky she had to go no farther,\nfor here she sank down quite exhausted. She had not lain there many\nseconds when she saw a procession of little men just like Kruzinegele,\nwith a litter and torches, who carried her up till they came to\na door in the rock, which opened at their approach. This led to a\nmagnificent crystal hall glittering with gold and gems, and on a\ngold throne sat Kruzinegele himself, with his fair daughter by his\nside. When the litter was brought to the steps of the throne, he\ncame down courteously, and renewed his thanks for her hospitality,\nbut she could not find a word to say, in her astonishment at seeing\nhim so changed. Meantime he sent his daughter to fetch the herbs\nwhich were to cure the poor mother, and gave them to her, telling\nher how to administer them. \"You see,\" he added,--\n\n\n       \"Morgen oder Heut\n        Kommt die Zahlzeit;\n\n\nand your rich neighbour will find it so too.\" Then he told the little\nmen to carry her home, and they laid her in the litter, and bore\nher away; and she remembered nothing more till she found herself\ncomfortably in bed, with the rising sun kissing her cheeks. But the\nappearance of every thing was as much changed as Kruzinegele himself\nhad been! The walls that used to bulge, and reek with mildew and\ndamp, were straight and smooth; glass casements replaced the ricketty\nshutters; nice white curtains tempered the sunshine; the scanty and\nbroken furniture was replaced by new. But what she valued above all,\nin her hand were the herbs which were to make her mother's healing\ndrink! Their decoction was her first occupation; and by the next day\nthey had restored her mother to health, and joy once more reigned in\nthe cottage, thanks to the Norg!\n\nIt had been the rich churl's custom, equally with the other villagers,\nto take his cattle on to the mountain pastures to graze for the\nbeginning of the summer season am Johanni [12]. His grazing ground\nwas just the highest pasture of the N\u00f6rgelspitz. The festival now\nsoon arrived, and the picturesque processions of cattle with their\nherds went lowing forth as usual, to enjoy their summer feed.\n\nWhen the Norg's enemy, however, arrived at his destination, instead\nof the emerald slopes he was wont to find, with their rich yield of\nmarbel and maim [13], all ready prepared by St. Martin's care [14] for\nthe delight of his cows and sheep, all was stony and desolate! Three\ndays they spent wandering about in search of a few blades to browse,\nbut even this was denied them--nor ever again did the N\u00f6rgelspitz\nbring forth any thing but ice and snow!\n\nOf the sleek droves which had started, the envy of all beholders, few\nbeasts lived to return; the prosperity of the once flourishing Hof\nhad fled, and before many years were out its proprietor was obliged\nto leave it, a ruined man. Theresa had in the meantime married a\nthrifty peasant, whose industry enabled him to be the purchaser of\nthe abandoned Hof, which he soon stocked to the full extent of former\ndays. Ofttimes a curious grey-bearded little stranger would drop in\nat night to share their comfortable meal, and before he went away he\nwould always sing his couplet--\n\n\n       \"Morgen oder Heut\n        Kommt die Zahlzeit.\"\n\n\nSuch occasional apparitions of the strange visitants excited the\ncuriosity of the inhabitants of the earth to the utmost, and many a\nweird story was told of frightful injury happening to those who had\nstriven to penetrate their retreat, and for a long period none had\nany success in the enterprise.\n\nIt happened one day, however, that a daring hunter who had been led\nfar from his usual track, and far from the country with which he was\nfamiliar, by the pursuit of a gemsbock, found himself at the entrance\nof a low-arched cavern. As night was about to fall and the sky wore\na threatening aspect, he was glad to creep within this shelter till\nthe light of morning should enable him to find his way home once more.\n\nHe had not proceeded far within the dim corridor, when he perceived\nthat in proportion as he got farther from the light of day the cave\nbecame brighter instead of darker! Eagerly seeking the cause of this\nphenomenon, he perceived that the walls were all encrusted with gold\nand precious stones, which emitted constant sparkles of light. He\nthereby recognized at once that he had reached an approach to one of\nthe resorts of the Mountain-folk, as the Norgs were also called from\nhaving their habitation in the hearts of the mountains.\n\nTo avoid the fate of those who had ventured within the mysterious\nprecincts, he was about to make good his escape, when he felt something\nsoft under his feet. It proved to be a red hood or cap, dropped there\nby one of the Mountain-folk, a veritable Tarnkappe which had the\nproperty of making the wearer invisible to men, and also enabled him\nto command admission to any part of the subterranean settlement. He\nhad scarcely placed it on his head when one of the little men of the\nmountain came running up to look for his lost cap. Fritzl the hunter\nwas much too cunning to give up the advantage of its possession, but\nwith great good humour he told the dwarf he reckoned it too great an\nadvantage to have the opportunity of visiting his beautiful territory\nto give it up for nothing; but he assured him he should have no reason\nto regret having given him admission. The dwarf could not choose but\nobey, and the J\u00e4ger enjoyed the singular privilege of surveying all\nthe hidden treasures of the underground world.\n\nBeautiful are the glories of the mountain world as seen by mortal\neyes--gorgeous its colours when illumined by the southern sun,\nbut all this is as barren darkness compared with the glories hidden\nwithin its stony recesses. Here, the sky overhead was all of diamonds\nand sapphires and carbuncles, and their light sparkled with tenfold\nglory and beauty to the light of the sun and moon and stars; the\ntrees were of living gold and silver, and the flowers and fruit of\nprecious stones; the grass all of crystal and emerald; there was\nno cold or heat, no perplexing change of season, but one perpetual\nspring spread its balmy air around; lakes there were all of opal and\nmother-o'-pearl, and gorgeously plumed swans perpetually crossing\nthem served the inhabitants in lieu of boats.\n\nThe J\u00e4ger's delight and admiration at all these sights won the sympathy\nand regard of his guide, and by degrees he grew more communicative,\nand explained to him the whole economy of their mode of life. He showed\nhim how they were divided into three distinct classes: those wearing\nred caps, who were gay and good-natured, and filled with goodwill\ntowards mankind also, notwithstanding many wild pranks; those with\nbrown caps, whose mischief was mingled with malice rather than fun,\nbut who yet would suffer themselves to be propitiated; and those\nwith black caps, always gloomy and morose, who boded evil wherever\nthey went. His guide advised him to have nothing to say to these,\nbut with some of the red and brown he was admitted to converse: he\nfound them pleasant and sociable, and ready enough to communicate\ntheir ideas. Some asked him questions, too, about various matters\nwhich seemed to have puzzled them in their peregrinations on earth,\nwhile others, who had never been outside their own habitations,\nhad other inquiries to make--but some there were also who had no\ncuriosity on the subject, but rather contempt; and one thing that\namused the J\u00e4ger in them was their incapacity to conceive many of\nthe things he had to tell them, and particularly to understand what\nhe could mean when he talked about death.\n\nChiefly to keep the spiteful freaks of the black-caps in check\nthere was a guard of warrior dwarfs, whose array was shown to our\nJ\u00e4ger. Formidable they must have been, for the armour of each was made\nout of one diamond, and they wore helmets and greaves and shields all\nof diamonds, and while they were thus impervious to every attack, their\nswords were of diamond too, and resistless therefore in their thrusts.\n\nThe J\u00e4ger could not restrain his raptures at their gorgeous show, as\nthe colours of the gems around were reflected in this shining armour.\n\nThe dwarf had nothing left to show after this, but then stood and\nsighed over the glories of the past. \"And what were the glories of the\npast?\" inquired the J\u00e4ger, with intense interest. The dwarf watched his\ninterlocutor closely, and satisfied himself that his interest was not\nfeigned. Then he paused long, as hesitating whether to unburden himself\nto a stranger of the sad thoughts which crowded into and oppressed\nhis mind. A few words of sympathy, however, decided him at last\n\n\"Yes, we still have some power and some riches left, and some of\nour ancient strength, but we have lost our kings, the kernel of\nour strength. It is true, we are able to surprise you with isolated\nexhibitions of riches and power, but, on the whole, your people has got\nthe better of ours; and since your heroes of old destroyed the last of\nour royal race, we have been a doomed, disorganized, dwindling race,\nfast disappearing from our ancient fastnesses.\"\n\n\"And how happened it that our people got the better of yours? How\ndid our heroes destroy your royal race? I pray you tell me.\"\n\nThe dwarf led the J\u00e4ger into a delicious alcove of the opal rock, whose\npure, pale lustre seemed more in accordance with his melancholy mood\nthan the garish brilliancies that had hitherto surrounded them. They\nlaid them down on the bank, and the dwarf thus recounted the story.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ROSE-GARDEN OF LAREYN, THE LAST NORG-KING.\n\nThe lineage of our kings had endured for countless generations,\nhe said, and had always enjoyed the undeviating homage of our people.\n\nIn our kings were bound up our life and our strength; they were the\nfountain of our light and the guardians of our power. The royal race\nwas a race apart which had never mingled with the race of the governed,\nyet which had never failed or been found wanting. But Adelgar cast his\neyes on H\u00f6rele, one of the Norginnen of the common herd, and raised\nher to share his throne. The union not only was unblessed--what was\nworse, all the rest of the royal stock died out, and all the noble\nprinces of his first marriage died away one after the other [15];\nand when H\u00f6rele at last came to die herself, there was only one left.\n\nThis was Lareyn, the last of his race. Adelgar looked around him\nwith tears, for there was none left to whom he could marry his son,\nand he had experienced in himself the ill effects of departing from\nthe ancient tradition which forbade him from mingling his race with\nthe race of the governed, and he bewailed his folly.\n\nBut Lareyn bethought him of a remedy; he determined to go out into\nthe outer world, and choose him a wife among the daughters of its\ninhabitants, and bring her to reign over the mountain people and\ncontinue the royal stock. In a supreme council of the elders of the\nkingdom it was decided to approve what he proposed. But Adelgar only\nconsented with much reluctance, and accompanied his permission with\nmany conditions and counsels, the chief of which were that Lareyn and\nhis suite should every one go forth clothed in a Tarnhaut [16], and\nthat he should exercise his choice in a far distant country where the\nways of the dwarfs were not known, and where, whatever might befall,\nno friend of the bride could think of coming to his palace to seek\nher, for the old king rightly judged that the Christian folk would\nnot willingly give a daughter of theirs to the Norgs.\n\nLareyn promised his father to attend to his injunctions, and\ngave orders to prepare a thousand suits of diamond armour for his\nbody-guard, and five hundred suits of silk attire for his pages, who\nwere to bear the gifts with which he meant to captivate the maiden\nof his choice, and Tarnhauts to cover them all--and, above all,\nthe presents themselves of jewels and priceless goldsmith's works,\nat which the Norgen were very expert.\n\nWhile all these things were being got ready Adelgar died, and Lareyn\nsucceeded to the crown. However much he desired to adhere to his\nfather's injunctions, he was forced to decide that under the altered\ncircumstances it could not be well for him to journey to a distance\nfrom his kingdom, and to leave it long without a head. He determined,\ntherefore, to search the neighbourhood for a maiden that should please\nhim. In the meantime he made use of his newly acquired power to prepare\na dwelling to receive her which should correspond with the magnificence\nof his presents, and by its dazzling lustre should make her forget all\nthat she might be inclined to regret in her earlier home. The highest\ntitle of honour was now promised to whoso of his subjects could point\nout to him an unexplored mine of beauty and riches. This was found in\na vault all of crystal, which no foot of dwarf had ever trod. Lareyn\nwas beside himself with gladness when he saw this; he ordered a\nhundred thousand dwarfs immediately to set to work and form of it\na residence for his bride; to divide it into chambers for her use,\nwith walls and columns encrusted with gold; to engrave the crystal\nwith pleasing devices; and to furnish it with all that was meet for\nher service. Thus arose the great Krystallburg [17] ever famous in the\nlays of the Norgs, and which the cleverest and richest of the children\nof men might have envied. That so glorious a palace might be provided\nwith a garden worthy of it, hundreds of thousands of other dwarfs were\nemployed to lay out the choicest beds and bowers that ever were seen,\nall planted with roses of surpassing beauty, whose scent filled the air\nfor miles round, so that, wherever you might be, you should know by\nthe fragrant exhalation where to find the Rosengarten of King Lareyn\n[18]. Engrossed with these congenial preparations, Lareyn forgot all\nhis prudence and moderation: that they might be completed with all\npossible expedition the whole working community of the dwarfs was\ndrawn off from their ordinary occupations; the cultivation of the\nland was neglected, and a famine threatened. Lareyn then would go\nout and make a raid on the crops of the children of earth, and take\npossession of whatever was required for the needs of his own people,\nwithout regard for the outcry raised against him, knowing that,\nstrong in his supernatural strength, he had no retaliation to fear.\n\nWhile thus he pursued his ravages every where with indiscriminating\nfury, he one day came upon the arativo [19] of a poor widow whose\nonly son was her one support. The golden grain had been gathered into\nher modest barn just as Lareyn and his marauders came by; swift,\nlike a flock of locusts, they had seized the treasure. The widow\nsobbed, and her stalwart son fought against them in vain; Lareyn was\ninexorable. At another time the good-nature of his Norg blood would\nhave prompted him at least to repay what he had appropriated in the\ngold and precious stones of which he had such abundant store, but now\nhe thought of nothing but the prompt fulfilment of his darling design;\nand he passed on his way unheeding the widow's curse.\n\nAt last the Krystallburg was complete, and the Rosengarten budding\nready to burst into a bloom of beauty. To so fair a garden he would\nhave no other fence but a girdle of silk, only he gave it for further\ndefence a law whereby any who should violate that bound should forfeit\nhis left foot and his right hand.\n\nLareyn looked round, and his heart was content. He felt satisfied now\nthat he had wherewithal to make any daughter of earth forget her own\nhome and her father's people, how delightful soever might have been\nthe place of her previous sojourn.\n\nDonning his Tarnhaut, he went forth with his followers marshalled\nbehind him, all equally hidden from human sight.\n\nHe wandered from castle to castle, from Edelsitz [20] to Edelsitz,\nfrom palace to palace, but nowhere found he the bride of his heart,\ntill he came to the residence of the Duke of Styria. Here, in a\ngarden almost as lovely as his own Rose-garden, he found a number of\nnoble knights assembled, and their ladies, all of surpassing beauty,\ntaking their pleasure on the greensward amid the flowers.\n\nLareyn had never seen so much beauty and gallantry, and he lingered\nlong with his attendant wights running from one to another, and\nscanning the attractions of each, as a bee hovers from flower to\nflower, gathering the honey from their lips. Each maiden was so\nperfect, that he would have been content with any one of them, but\neach was so guarded by her cavalier that he saw no way of approaching\nher; at last, driven to despair, he wandered away under the shade of\na lonesome grove.\n\nHere, under a leafy lime [21], his eye met a form of loveliness which\nsurpassed the loveliness of all the dames he had heretofore seen\nput together, and he felt thankful now that he had not been able to\npossess himself of any of them, for then he had never seen her who\nnow lay before him in all the bloom of her virgin perfection. Lareyn,\naccustomed to associate his conceptions of beauty with a dazzling\nblaze of gold and jewels, found an entirely new source of admiration\nin the simple attire of the Styrian princess, for it was Simild,\ndaughter of Biterolf, Duke of Styria, who lay before him, seeking\nrest amid the midday heat, draped only in virgin white, with wreathed\nlilies for her single ornament.\n\nLareyn stood absorbed for some time in contemplation of her perfect\nimage. Then, hearing the voices of her companions drawing near, quickly\nhe flung a Tarnhaut over her, so that they trooped by, searching\nfor her, and passed on--seeing her not--to seek her farther. Then\nhe beckoned to the bearers of a litter he had prepared in readiness\nto approach, into which her sylph-like form was soon laid; and over\nhill and dale he carried her towards the Rosengarten.\n\nThey had got some way before Simild woke. Lareyn rode by her side,\nwatching for her eyes to open, and the moment she gave signs\nof consciousness he made a sign for the cort\u00e9ge to halt. Quick as\nthought a refection was laid out on the greensward, while a band of\nNorg musicians performed the most delicious melody.\n\nSimild, enraptured with the new sights and sounds, gazed around,\nwondering where she was and what all the little creatures could be who\nhopped around ministering to her with so much thoughtfulness. Lareyn\nhastened to soothe her, but fancying that some of the Norgs were\nwanting in some of their due services to her, he rated them in such\na positive tone of command that Simild began to perceive that he was\nthe master of this regiment of ministrants, and hence she inferred\nthat by some mysterious means she had fallen into his power; but what\nthose means could be she was at a loss to conceive.\n\nLareyn now displayed his presents, and in presenting them poured\nforth the most enthusiastic praise of her beauty. Simild's vanity\nand curiosity were both won; yet the strangeness of the situation,\nthe sudden separation from her friends, her ignorance of what might\nbe going to befall her, roused all her fears, and she continued to\nrepeat in answer to all his protestations of admiration that she\ncould listen to nothing from him till he had restored her to her home.\n\n\"This is the one thing, sweet princess, that I cannot do at your\nbidding,\" he replied. \"Whatever else you desire me to do shall be\ninstantly executed. And it is hardly possible for you to exhaust my\ncapacity of serving you.\"\n\nThen he went on to describe the magnificence and riches of his kingdom,\nand all the glories over which, as his bride, she would be called to\nreign, till her curiosity was so deeply excited, and her opposition\nto his carrying her farther grew so faint, that he lost no time in\ntaking advantage of her mood to pursue the journey.\n\nIn the meantime the greatest consternation had fallen on all the\nfriends of Simild. The maidens whose duty it was to wait on her sought\nher every where, and not finding her they were afraid to appear before\nher father. The knights and nobles who had been in her company were\ndistracted, feeling the duty upon them to restore her, and not knowing\nwhich way to begin. The old Duke Biterolf shut himself up within the\npalace and wept, objecting to see any one, for his heart was oppressed\nwith sorrow; and he refused to be comforted till his child should be\nrestored to him.\n\nBut Dietlieb, Simild's brother, a stout young sword [22], when he\nhad exhausted every counsel that occurred to him for discovering his\nsister's retreat, determined to ride to Gardenna on the Garda-See,\nthe castle where resided Hildebrand [23] the Sage, renowned for wisdom,\nand prudence, and useful counsel.\n\nWhen Hildebrand the Sage saw him come riding yet a long way off, he\nsaid to those who stood beside him on the battlements, \"See Dietlieb\nthe Styrian, how he rides! His heart is full of indignation. Up,\nmy men, there is work for us; some one has done him a great wrong,\nand us it behoves to stand by him, and see him righted.\"\n\nUte, Hildebrand's wife, and her daughters prepared a warm welcome for\nthe prince, as was due; and the heroes gathered round Hildebrand held\nout their hands to him as to one whose integrity and valour claimed\ntheir respect. Hildebrand himself led him to his chamber, and left\nto no maiden the task of helping him off with his armour [24], but\nwith his own hand lifted off his helmet and laid by his good shield.\n\nThen they placed refreshing wine from the cool cellar in the rock\nbefore him, and a banquet of many dishes, as became so worthy a\nguest. When the tables had been removed [25], Hildebrand invited his\nyoung guest to detail the cause which had brought him. Dietlieb, who\nwas burning to tell the story of his mishap, poured out the details\nof his sister's misadventure, without omitting the smallest incident\nwhich could serve Hildebrand to form an opinion as to the remedy to\nbe adopted.\n\nThe event was so strange that Hildebrand himself could not venture\nall at once to divine the nature of the injury. But he forbore also\nto express his perplexity, lest the bold young Styrian should be\ndiscouraged. Without therefore expounding exactly what his views\nwere, but determining to ponder the matter more deeply by the way,\nthe advice he propounded in the first instance was, that they should\nall repair forthwith to seek the aid of Berndietrich [26].\n\nThe counsel was received with joyful acclamation; and loud was the\nclanging as every one ran to don his chain-armour, for all were glad\nto be called to deeds of high emprise, and such they deemed were in\nstore for them if Dietrich von Bern was to be their leader.\n\nUte and her daughters, to whom their courage and mettle was well known,\ngreeted them as they went forth with no sinking hearts, but gave them\naugury of good success.\n\nAs they journeyed along, they came to a broad heath, which they were\nabout to pass over with their train, when up sprang a man of forlorn\naspect, who cried after Hildebrand, and asked his aid.\n\nHildebrand, seeing him in such sorry plight, turned aside out of\ncompassion, to ask what had befallen him. It was no other than the\npeasant--the widow's son--whom Lareyn had so deeply wronged, and,\nseeing the heroes go forth in such brave array, he besought their aid\nagainst the oppressor of his mother. Some of them laughed at his wild\nmien and uncouth gestures, but Hildebrand the Sage took him apart,\nand lost not a word of his story of how the Norg-king lived in the\nheart of the mountains, of how he came out with his mighty little men,\nand ravaged all the face of the country, contrary to all the habits of\nhis former life, and of how it was all because his own labourers were\nengaged in preparing the most magnificent palace for the reception\nof a daughter of earth, whom he meant to make his bride.\n\nHildebrand now felt he knew all, and with the help of the poor\ncountryman, the widow's son, would be able to conduct the heroes\ninto his retreat, inflict condign punishment, and release the captive\nprincess.\n\nHow, with purely natural means, to overcome the resistless strength\nof the Norgs did not indeed make itself apparent; this was matter\nfor further consideration, and sufficed to engross his thoughts for\nthe rest of the journey. Of one thing he was satisfied--that he was\nright in claiming the intervention of Berndietrich, whose traffic\nwith the supernatural powers [27] made him, of all the wigands [28],\nalone capable of conducting such an expedition.\n\nHildebrand and his companions were received by Theodoric with hearty\nwelcome and hospitable care and cheer. As they sat at table, all\nthe heroes together vied with each other in lauding the prowess of\nTheodoric, till they had pronounced him the bravest sword of which\nthe whole world could boast.\n\nThis was the time for Hildebrand. \"No!\" he cried, as he upsprang,\nand by his determined manner arrested the attention of all the\nwigands. \"No, I say! there is one mightier than he; there is one with\nwhom he has never yet ventured to measure his strength----\"\n\n\"Who? Name him!\" shouted Theodoric, rising to his feet, and glaring\nround him with defiant fury, only kept in check by his regard for\nHildebrand.\n\n\"I speak of Lareyn, the Dwarf-king, the dweller in the depths of the\nmountains of Tirol,\" replied Hildebrand, in a voice of firm assurance.\n\n\"The Dwarf-king!\" exclaimed Theodoric, with incredulity and contempt;\nand he sat down again.\n\n\"As long as the Dwarf-king is suffered to live in his mountain\nstronghold, and to ravage the lands of the peaceful peasants, I call\nno man who knows of him a hero. But him who overcomes this little\none--him I will call a hero indeed, above all others!\"\n\n\"If your Dwarf-king were so formidable, Meister Hildebrand,\" replied\nTheodoric, \"you would have told me of him before now, I ween. How\nhas he raised your wonderment just at this time?\"\n\n\"Because just at this time his insolence has increased. He has built\na palace surpassing all palaces in magnificence, which he calls his\nKrystallburg, and has surrounded it with a garden of beauty, which\nhe calls his Rosengarten, fenced round only with a silken girdle,\nbut of whomsoever crosses that boundary he forfeits the left foot\nand the right hand.\"\n\nThe report of this boast was enough to decide Theodoric, the impetuous\nsword. \"If it is thus he vaunts him,\" he cried, \"he shall know that\nthere is one will dare brave his decree, and destroy the garden his\nferocity guards after the manner you describe.\"\n\nWith that up he rose, and called for his Velsungen [29], for his\narmour he never put off, and he called for his helmet and his horse;\nand before another had time to frame his purpose, he had started,\nwithout parley and without guide.\n\nOnly Wittich the Wigand, his boon companion, who loved to share his\nrash ventures, and was familiar with his moods, could bestir himself\nto follow before he was too far gone to be overtaken.\n\nTo Tirol they rode by day and by night, without slacking rein, for\ntheir anger brooked no reprieve. They slacked not their speed for\ndell or mountain, and they rode forty miles through the dense forest;\nbut every where as they went along they tested the air, as it was\nwafted past them, to see if they could discern the perfumes of the\nRosengarten. At last, as they toiled up the mountain side, a majestic\nsight was suddenly opened to their view. The white shining rock of the\nliving mountain was cut and fashioned into every pleasing device of\nturret and tower, diamonds and rubies were the windows, and the dome\nwas of pure gold set with precious stones. \"We have far to ride yet,\"\nsaid Wittich the Wigand, as he scanned the lordly place. \"And yet the\nperfume of the Rose-garden reaches even hither,\" said the Bern\u00e4re\n[30]. \"Then we know we are on the right track,\" answered Wittich;\nso they put spurs to their horses, and rode forward with good heart.\n\nThey had pushed on thus many a mile when the blooming Rosengarten\nitself came in sight, entrancing their senses with its beauty and\nits odours.\n\n\"What was that?\" asked Theodoric, who always rode ahead, as some\nlight obstruction made his mount swerve for a moment.\n\n\"Why, you have burst the silken girdle of King Lareyn's\nRosengarten!\" said Wittich the Wigand; \"so now we have incurred the\nvengeance of the little man.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said Theodoric, as he gazed around, \"let us not harm this\npleasant place; sweetly are the flowers disposed, and in the fragrant\nhours of evening and of morning it must be well to be here: let us\ndestroy naught!\"\n\n\"Nay!\" said honest Wittich, \"came we not forth to destroy this\ndevil's-work, and to reduce the pride of the boasting Norg-king who\nspares none? Shall we return, and leave our work undone? I have no\nsuch mind; nothing will I leave of what we see before us now.\"\n\nHe dismounted to carry his threat into effect; and Theodoric, not\nto be behindhand, or to incur suspicion of fearing the Norg-king,\ndismounted too. Then with one consent they hewed down and rooted up\nthe fair plants, till the whole garden was a wilderness, and they\nlay them down upon the grass to rest.\n\nAs they lay, there appeared before them, coming at full speed,\nas on swift wings, a knightly form clad in shining armour, so that\nWittich cried, \"See, Lord Dietrich, who comes to visit us--surely it\nis St. Michael, leader of the heavenly hosts!\"\n\n\"I see no St. Michael,\" answered Theodoric, sullenly. \"It is one of\nno heavenly build, albeit he bears him so bravely. We may rue that\nwe have loosed our helmets and shields, for methinks he regards us\nwith no loving eye.\"\n\nWhile they spoke the rider had advanced over a good space of the\nway, and they could discern the manner of his bearing. His horse\nwas lithe as a roe-buck upon the wild mountain heights, and its\nhousings of cloth-of-gold gave back the rays of the golden sun; the\nbridle was studded with precious stones, and embroidered with cunning\nworkmanship of gold, moreover it was held in a commanding hand. The\nsaddle was dazzling with rubies, and so were the stirrups no less;\nbut the armour was most dazzling of all, and all hardened in dragon's\nblood [31]. His sword of adamant could cut through steel and gold;\nthe handle was one carbuncle, which darted rays of light. Over his\nbreast-armour he wore a tight tunic of cloth-of-gold, with his arms\nembroidered in glowing colours. His helmet was of burnished gold and\ntopazes mingling their yellow light, and between them many a carbuncle\nwhich by night gave the light of day, and from within it there sang\npleasant voices of birds--nightingales, bulfinches, and larks, with\nsoftened voices, as if they lived, and breathed their song upon the\nbranches of their native trees.\n\nHis shield was likewise of gold, and recorded many a deed of prowess\nof him who bore it; on it was painted a leopard, too, with head erect,\nas though preparing to spring upon his prey. In his right hand was a\nspear, and from its point floated a small red banner [32], on which\nappeared two swift greyhounds intent on following the wild game. But\nmore imposing than all this display of gold and art was the rider's\nmajestic mien, which was as of one used to know no law but his own\nwill, and to be obeyed by all who approached him; and yet, with all\nthis, he was only a span high! For it was King Lareyn, and he wore\ntightly buckled his girdle of twelve-men's-strength.\n\nTheodoric would gladly have laughed his little figure to scorn, but\nwhen he caught the fire of his eye he was fain to acknowledge he was\nno puny antagonist in fierce intention, whatever was his height.\n\nNor did Lareyn spare angry words when he had come up with the knights,\nand saw what they had done; there was no epithet of scorn in his\nvocabulary that he did not pour out upon them. He told them their\nlives were forfeit for the mischief they had wreaked upon his roses,\nand they could only redeem them by the surrender of their left foot\nand right hand.\n\nTheodoric was not slow to pay back his vituperation in corresponding\nmeasure. He bid him remember what a little, wee mannikin he was; that\nhis was not the right tone in which he ought to talk to princes. Had\nhe ventured to ask a money-compensation, it would have been impertinent\nenough, but what he had asked was a ludicrous pretention.\n\n\"Money!\" shouted the Norg, in no way disconcerted; \"I have more gold at\ncommand than any three of you together. You call yourselves princes,\ndo you? You have done no princely deed to-day; you have incurred\nthe common penalty which I have decreed for all alike who trespass\non my Rose-garden--so no more words: hand over your horses, armour,\nand clothing [33], together with the left foot and right hand of each.\"\n\n\"Herr Dietrich!\" interposed Wittich, \"is it possible you have patience\nto listen to the insolent railing which this little mite pours out\nin his folly? Say but the word, and I will punish him once and for\nall. It needs but to take him and his mount by the leg, with one\ngrasp of my strong hand, and knock their heads against the stone wall,\nthat they may lie as dead as the roses we have already strewn around!\"\n\n\"God is exhaustless in His wonders!\" replied the Bern\u00e4re; \"for aught\nwe know, He has laid up within this mite's body all the strength of\nwhich he is so forward to boast: or by some magic craft he may have\npossessed himself of might commensurate with the riches which we can\nsee plainly enough he has at command. If it comes to fighting, we\nwill bear ourselves like men; but take my advice, and be not rash,\nfor very much I doubt if we shall leave these mountains of Tirol\nalive this day.\"\n\n\"Now, prince of lineage high! if I knew not your prowess before this\nday,\" cried Wittich, beside himself with indignation, \"I had said you\nwere afraid of his sword, which a mouse might wield! Shall a Christian\nknight shrink before any pagan hound? But a thousand such wights as\nthis could be overmatched by you; and without arms you could smite\nthem down, and hang them all on the trees!\"\n\n\"Your ideas of your powers are not weak,\" interposed King Lareyn; \"you\ntalk of one of you being a match for a thousand such as I: come on,\nand let us see how you will bear you against one 'tiny antagonist'!\"\n\nWittich's impatience knew no bounds at the challenge; without\nexchanging another word with Theodoric he sprang into the saddle, and\nLareyn, who had chafed at being spoken of as an unworthy adversary,\nnow drew himself up, proud to find Wittich did not scorn to meet\nhim mounted.\n\nThey rode out opposite each other on the greensward with their lances\npoised, and then dashed the one at the other like two falcons on\nthe wing. Wittich, not at all wanting in the science of handling his\nlance, made sure to have hit Lareyn, but the spell that surrounded\nhim protected him against the thrust, while his lance struck Wittich's\nthroat where the helm was braced, and sent him backwards off the saddle\non to the ground with great force. As he fell among the clover he vowed\nthat no other lance had ever so offended him, for never before had\nvictory appeared so easy. Hastily he sprang to his feet, to wipe away\nthe shame by seeming indifference; but Lareyn stood before him in the\nlong grass with his sword ready to take the forfeit he demanded, the\nleft foot and the right hand,--and would have taken it, but Theodoric\ndeemed it time to interfere; he said he should have reckoned it a\nshame on him could it have been said of him that he had stood by while\na companion was made to pay so hard a penalty for so small a harm.\n\n\"What is a shame to you is no affair of mine,\" cried Lareyn in return;\n\"but instead of defending your companion, it behoves you to defend\nyourself, for, as you had your part in the destruction of the garden,\nI demand my forfeit equally of you, and your left foot and right hand\nI must have. Stand on guard then! for I am a match for twelve such\nas you.\"\n\nThe words stung Theodoric to the quick. But with what celerity soever\nhe vaulted into the saddle, the moment had sufficed for Lareyn to\nbind fast Wittich to a tree, and gain his stirrups in time to confront\nhis foe.\n\n\"I perceive you are the Bern\u00e4re,\" he said, \"by your shield and helm;\nand never have I poised lance so gladly against any foe, and never\nhave had such satisfaction in triumph as I shall when I have you bound\nby the side of your companion, and when the great Dietrich von Bern\nshall lie in the bonds of the little Norg!\"\n\n\"Dwarf! waste not words,\" cried Theodoric, in a terrible voice, his\neyes flashing fire; his spear trembling in his hand with the fury that\nburnt within him. Before the foes could meet, however, and not a whit\ntoo soon, Hildebrand appeared upon the scene, having found his way,\nwith the bold Wolfhart who never shrank from any fight, and Dietlieb\nthe Steier\u00e4re [34], by the guidance of the injured widow's son.\n\nHastily Hildebrand reached Theodoric's ear: \"Fight him not in that\nway,\" he said; \"he has ever the advantage with the lance, and if he\nhurled you from the saddle, where would be your princely honour? Never\ncould you again reign in your Hall of Verona. Dismount, and meet him\non foot upon the grass, and watch for what further may be suggested\nto us.\"\n\nTheodoric gladly accepted the counsel of the sage, and, standing\nonce more on the ground, called to the Norg to meet him there. Lareyn\nrefused not, but met him with many a valiant thrust, which the wigand\nparried, and returned too, as best he might, with Hildebrand's counsel,\ntill the little man complained of the interference, without which,\nhe swore, Dietrich had been bound even as Wittich. But Theodoric bid\nhim not talk, but fight, and with that planted him a blow between\nthe eyes which shut out the light of the sun. Hildebrand, meantime,\nreleased Wittich, as it behoved while one fought in his defence. But\nLareyn, finding he could gain no signal advantage against the hero,\ndrew his Tarnhaut from his pocket, and, slipping it over his head,\nbecame invisible to his antagonist. Now it was a weird running\nhither and thither, as the deft Norg paid out his cunning blows,\nand the bold wigand in vain sought him, that he might return them;\nnow his blow fell on the stone wall, and now on a tree, while the\nNorg's mocking laughter echoed at each mistake.\n\n\"One counsel only I see,\" cried good Hildebrand, distressed to see\nhis prince so hard thrust; \"call to him to drop his sword, and wrestle\nwith you; so shall you reach him, and at least know where he stands.\"\n\nThe hero followed the counsel of his master, nor did the Norg\nrefuse. True, Theodoric now could at least feel his unseen foe, but\nhe felt him to his cost, for it was impossible to stand against his\nstrength, nor was it long before the dwarf forced the hero down upon\nhis knees on the grass. Great was the wigand's distress, for never\nhad antagonist so dealt with him before.\n\n\"Dietrich! beloved lord,\" cried Hildebrand, \"list to my word. One\nway of safety there is: wrench from him his girdle--his girdle which\ngives him twelve men's strength!\"\n\nGladly Theodoric heard the counsel, nor was he long in finding with\nhis hand the girdle; by it he raised King Lareyn from the ground,\nand dashed him down again, till the girdle burst and fell beneath\ntheir feet. Hildebrand quickly caught it up, lest the dwarf should\nagain possess himself of it; but Lareyn gave a cry of despair which\nmight have been heard o'er mountain and forest three days' journey\noff! Then, with doleful voice, he said,--\n\n\"Dietrich von Bern! if you are the noble sword for which men hold you,\nyou will be now content, and will give me my life; while I will be\nyour tributary, and mighty are the gifts I have to offer you.\"\n\n\"No!\" replied Theodoric; \"your haughtiness and pretensions have been\ntoo gross. I pardon not such as you so easily; we must have another\ntrial, in which you must yield up your worthless life.\"\n\n\"I have no power in fighting against such as he now, without my\ngirdle,\" mused the Norg; \"my only chance of safety lies in getting\none of the heroes who is equal to him to fight for my cause in my\nplace. So he made up to Dietlieb the Steier\u00e4re, and conjured him,\nas he was his brother-in-law, to help him in his need--even as he\nloved his sister's honour.\"\n\n\"True!\" replied Dietlieb; \"since you confess honestly that you have my\nsister, it is meet that I should be your champion; and I will deliver\nyou or die.\" With that he went to Theodoric, and prayed him earnestly\nfour times, by his regard for knightly honour, for woman's worth, for\nfriendship, and for virtue--four things which, at receiving his sword,\nevery knight bound himself to honour, that he would spare Lareyn. But\nTheodoric was not to be moved, and each time only swore the harder\nthat he would fight it out to the last; that Lareyn had offended him\ntoo deeply, and that he could not be suffered to live. When Dietlieb\nfound the ambassage he had undertaken unsuccessful, and that he would\nhave to own his failure, he grew impatient and wroth, and riding his\nhorse up to Theodoric, he proclaimed in a loud voice,--\n\n\"Be it known, Prince Dietrich, highly praised, that I declare King\nLareyn, great in power and riches, shall not be bound your prisoner,\nnor his life taken; that I appear here to answer for him with brotherly\nservice, and that either he shall be let go scot free, or in my person\nonly shall the death-blow be dealt out for him.\"\n\nTheodoric, unwilling to enter a feud of life and death with one of\nhis own allies, and yet too proud to refuse the challenge, answered\nhim nothing. But Dietlieb took the Norg and hid him away in safety\nin the long grass out of Theodoric's sight, and then returned ready\nto confront him. Theodoric, finding he was determined in his attack,\ncalled for his horse, and bound on his helmet, his shield he took in\nhis hand, and hung his sword to his girdle.\n\n\"Think not I spare you more than another, Lord Theodoric, when I have\nfound the cause I ought to defend,\" cried Dietlieb, and his flashing\neye told that he would fight his fight to the end.\n\nTheodoric still said no word, but his anger was the more desperate.\n\nThus minded, they rode at each other, and the lance of each hurled the\nother from his horse upon the grass. Up each sprang again, and drew\nhis trenchant sword; the one struck, and the other pierced, till the\ngrass all around, as high as their spurs, was dyed as red as the roses\nthey had destroyed anon. Then Theodoric dealt such a mighty stroke\non Dietlieb's helmet that the fire flashed again, and he thought,\n\"Now have I conquered him and Lareyn at one blow.\" But Dietlieb,\nrecovering from the momentary shock, struck Theodoric's shield with\nsuch force that he dashed it from his grasp; you might have heard\nthe clash a mile off!\n\nWhen the bold Theodoric found he had his shield no longer, he took his\nsword in both his hands, and gave the wigand such a mighty Schirmschlag\n[35] that he felled him to the ground.\n\n\"Now then, foolish man!\" he cried, in scorn, \"do you still hold out\nfor Lareyn?\"\n\nDietlieb sprang to his feet once more with a start which made his\narmour ring again, and, for an answer, ran at Theodoric, and tried to\nrepeat his stroke; but Theodoric was more difficult to bring down,\nand answered his attack by striking him on the rim of his shield so\nforcibly that he loosed the band by which he held it.\n\nMeantime, Hildebrand had been occupied stirring up the other wigands\nto part the combatants, and at this moment Wittich and Wolfhart came\nup to Dietlieb and seized him, and with main force dragged him off\nthe field; while Hildebrand reasoned with Theodoric about the merit\nand friendship of Dietlieb, and the advantage of compromise now that\nhe had done enough to prove his superiority in the fight. Theodoric,\nwho ever gave weight to Hildebrand's reasoning, agreed to be friends\nagain with Dietlieb, and to leave Lareyn his life and liberty, only\nexacting homage and tribute of him. To these terms Dietlieb also\nagreed, and all entered the bonds of good friendship.\n\nLareyn, who had watched the combat and listened to the treaty of\npeace from his hiding-place in the long grass, gave in his adhesion,\npromising to pay tribute of all his wealth.\n\n\"And now, good brother-in-law,\" he said, addressing Dietlieb, \"or\nbrother-in-law that-is-to-be,--for Simild has not yet given her consent\nto be my wife--let us talk a little about your lovely sister. You\nare doubtless burning to know how I became possessed of her, and I\nno less to tell.\" Then he told him how he had found her under the\nlinden-tree, and had enveloped her in the Tarnhaut and carried her\naway unseen by mortal eye; and of how all Norgdom was subject to her,\nof how he had laid an empire of boundless wealth at her feet, and how,\nif she preferred reigning on earth, he was able to buy a vast kingdom\nto endow her with. Then he noticed that the day was declining, and they\nfar from shelter, and bade them all welcome to his underground home,\npromising them good cheer and merry pastime. Dietlieb, anxious to\nsee his dear sister again, accepted the offer, and the other wigands\nagreed to follow him. Stern Hildebrand the Sage would have preferred\ncamping in the open air, but Theodoric told him it would be a shame on\nhis name before all heroes if, having been so near the Norg kingdom,\nof which all had heard, he should have feared to make acquaintance\nwith its economy and government. All the others were of his mind, but\nHildebrand reminded Theodoric, that as he whom all were ready to obey\nhad counselled incurring the danger, he made himself responsible for\nall their lives. \"He who gave us prudence will guard our lives and\nhonour,\" said the prince; and without further parley they rode on,\nafter Lareyn's guidance.\n\nOn they rode, through thick forest and narrow mountain-path, till,\nas it grew dark, they came to a golden door in the rock. It opened at\nLareyn's approach, and the moment they had passed within they found\nthemselves surrounded by a light above the light of day from the\nshining stones that glittered around. Trumpets sounded to herald their\nentrance. As they advanced through the sparkling trees friendly birds\nwarbled a sweet welcome; and as they neared the hall soft melodies\nof lutes and harps enchanted their ear. All around them the Norgs\ndisported themselves, ready to render any service the wayfarers might\nrequire. Refreshment was all ready, as if they had been expected;\nand when the wigands had done justice to the spread, they were led\neach to his apartment to take their rest, which they well needed.\n\nIn the morning Lareyn prayed them to stay and enjoy the wonders\nof his kingdom and taste his hospitality, whereupon new debate\narose. Theodoric was disposed to trust him; and Dietlieb desirous\nto keep friends with him for the sake of his sister; while Wolfhart\nwas ready for any sort of adventure; but Wittich, who had tasted the\neffects of Lareyn's guile and strength, used all his persuasion to\ninduce the others to return, and prudent Hildebrand deemed it the\nwiser part. At last, however, Wolfhart said, scornfully to Wittich,\nthat if he was afraid to stay he could go back; he had no need to\nspoil their pleasure. After that Wittich said no more, but by his\nsullen looks he showed he disapproved the venture.\n\nLareyn, seeing them doubtful, came up, and with much concern bid them\nhave no hesitation or fear, for all they saw was at their service--they\nhad but to command. To which Theodoric made answer that such words\nwere princely indeed, and if his deeds accorded therewith he never\nwould have reason to rue the league he had made with them.\n\nThen with delight Lareyn led them through the riches of his\npossessions. So much heaped-up gold, so many precious stones, such\nelaborate handiwork none of Theodoric's band had ever seen before;\nand the place rang with their exclamations of wonder.\n\nBut all this was nothing to the cunning feats of the Norgs, who,\nat a sign from Lareyn, displayed their various talents before the\nastonished eyes of the heroes. Some there were who lifted great stones\nbigger than themselves, and threw them as far as the eye could reach,\nthen by swiftness attained the goal before the stone they threw! Others\nrooted up great pine-trees, and broke them across as sticks. Others\ndid feats of tilting and horsemanship, and others danced and leapt\ntill the knights were lost in wonder at their agility and strength.\n\nLareyn now called his guests in to dine; and all manner of costly\ndishes were set before them, arranged with greater care and taste\nthan Theodoric was used to in his own palace, while sweet-voiced\nminstrels sang, and nimble Norgs danced. In the midst of the repast,\nSimild, summoned by Lareyn, entered the hall, attended by a train of\nfive hundred choicely-robed Norginnen; her own attire a very wonder\nof art. It was all of silk and down, and set off with ornaments of\njewellery beyond compare with any on earth; stones there were of value\nenough to ransom three kingdoms; and in her coronet one which lighted\nup the hall with its radiance--meet crown of her own loveliness! At\nLareyn's courteously worded request she gave all the guests a joyful\nwelcome, with a word of praise from her rosy lips for each, for their\nfame of knightly deeds. But when she saw Dietlieb her joy knew no\nbounds; they embraced each other with the heartfelt joy of those who\nhave been long and cruelly separated.\n\n\"Tell me, sister mine,\" said Dietlieb, anxiously turning to account\nthe brief opportunity her embrace gave him of whispering into her ear,\n\"is it of your own will that you are here, in this strange mountain\ndwelling? is this Lareyn dear to you? and do you desire to dwell with\nhim? Or has his artifice been hateful to you? Say, shall I rid you\nof his presence?\"\n\n\"Brother, it is your help I need to decide this thing,\" replied the\nmaid. \"Against Lareyn's mildness I have no word to say: gift upon gift\nhas been heaped upon me; with honour after honour have I been endowed;\nand every wish of mine is fulfilled ere it is born. But when I think\nof Him of whom all our pleasures are the bounty, I feel no pleasure in\npleasures so bestowed. This pagan folk holds Christ, our dear Lord, in\nhate--and when I think of Him, I long to be again in Christendom [36].\"\n\n\"Yes, Simild, sister dear, in Christendom is your place, not here; and\nsince such is your mind, cost what it will, I will set you free from\nthe Norg-king's power,\" was Dietlieb's answer; and there was no time\nfor more, for Lareyn called them back to the fresh-dressed banquet.\n\n\"Come, new allies but trusted friends!\" cried the dwarf, \"come, and\nlet us be merry, and pledge our troth in the ruby bowl! Lay aside\nyour heavy arms and armour, your sword and shield. Let us be light\nand free as brothers together.\"\n\nAs he spoke a whole host of waiting-men appeared, who helped the\nknights off with their armour, and brought them robes of rich stuffs\nand costly work. The guests suffered them to do their will, for\nthey were lost in admiration at the choice banquet; at the table,\nall of ivory inlaid with devices of birds and game so lifelike they\nseemed to skim across the board; at the vessels of silver and gold\nand crystal of untiring variety of design; and, above all, at the\norder and harmony with which all was directed.\n\nCool wine from cellars under earth was now served round [37]; then\nvarious dishes in constant succession, each rarer than the last;\nand then again sounded soft, clear voices to the accompaniment of the\nharmonious strings. And again and again the tankards were filled up\nwith Lautertrank, Moras [38], and wine.\n\nAt last the tables were drawn away, and at the same time Simild and\nher maids withdrew; but many an hour more the guests sat while the\nmusic and the singing continued to charm them. But lest even this\nshould weary, King Lareyn, as if determined there should be no end\nto the change of pastimes with which he had undertaken to amuse his\nguests, sent to fetch a certain conjuror who dwelt in the heart of a\nhigh mountain, and whose arts surpassed any thing that had been done\nbefore. The magician came at his bidding, and exhibited surprising\nevidences of his craft, till at last the king said,--\n\n\"You are a cunning man, no doubt, but there is one exhibition of\nyour power you have never been able to give me, and I shall think\nnothing of your art till you can satisfy me. In this country within\nthe mountains, these jewels fixed in vault, wall, and sky, weary one\nwith their perpetual glare. Make them to move as the luminaries of\nearth, so that we may have calm, peaceful night for repose.\"\n\n\"True, O king! I have never before been able to accomplish this\ndesire,\" replied the magician; \"but now I have acquired this art\nalso, and waited for a fitting occasion to make the first display of\nthe same.\"\n\n\"No occasion can be more fitting than the present,\" answered Lareyn,\n\"when by its inauguration you shall celebrate the visit of my honoured\nguests, and also by its achievement afford them that rest from the\nglare of day to which they are accustomed in their own nights.\"\n\n\"I desire but to obey,\" replied the magician; and forthwith he threw on\nto the fire that burnt on a black stone before him, a powder which no\nsooner touched the flame than a pale blue smoke arose with pleasing\nscent, and, curling through the hall, presently extinguished the\nbrilliant shining of every countless jewel with which the walls and\nroof were set.\n\n\"Now, if you are master of your art,\" continued the king, \"let us\nhave light once more.\"\n\nThe magician, wrapt in his incantation, spoke not, but dropped another\npowder on the flame, which at once sent up a wreathing fume of rainbow\nhues, carrying back to every precious stone its lustre.\n\n\"Wondrous!\" \"Brave artist!\" \"Wondrous show indeed!\" were the\nexclamations which broke spontaneously from every lip.\n\n\"Now let it be dark again,\" said the king; and the magician quenched\nthe sparkling light as before.\n\n\"Now light,\" he cried; and so alternated until the sight was no longer\nnew. Now, it was dark, and this time Lareyn called no more for light,\nnor spoke, and the silence was long; till the heroes grew anxious, and\nWittich turned to where Wolfhart had sat, and said, \"I like not this:\nwho knows but that while we can see naught the Norgs may fall upon us\nand destroy us?\" But Wolfhart answered not, for a stupor had fallen\nupon him that the fumes had been gifted to convey; and Wittich, too,\nfelt their influence before he could utter another word; so it was\nwith Hildebrand the Sage no less. Theodoric only had time to answer,\n\"Such treachery were not princely; and if Lareyn means harm to us,\nhe may be sure he will rue this day,\" and then sleep fell upon him\nas on the others.\n\nDietlieb had already left the hall, thinking under cover of the\ndarkness to find his sister, but being met by a page had been conducted\nto his apartment, and knew nothing of what had befallen the others.\n\nLareyn, meanwhile, sought out Simild in anxious mood. \"Ever lovely\nvirgin!\" he exclaimed, \"support me with your prudent counsel in this\nstrait. I have already told you how your people have avenged on me\nthat I have loved you; how they have laid low my silken fence and\ngolden gates, and wasted my choice garden of roses. Good reprisals\nI had thought to have taken, and had I been left man to man against\nthem I had overcome them all; but Hildebrand the Sage interposed\nhis advice: it was thus the Bern\u00e4re had the advantage over me, and\nhad it not been for your brother Dietlieb's stout defence, he had\neven taken my life. But in all the other four beside him there is no\ngood, and in one way or another I had found means to rid me of them,\nbut for Dietlieb's sake, who would be as ready to oppose me in their\ndefence as he opposed Dietrich in mine. So, fair lady mine, say how\nshall I end this affair?\"\n\n\"If you would follow my advice,\" replied Simild, \"be not rash;\nand, above all, use no treachery; keep to the pact of peace that\nyou have sworn; and be sure the Christian knights will not go back\nfrom their plighted word. But in place of the little girdle of\ntwelve-men's-strength that they took from you, here is a ring of\nequal power which your seven magicians welded for me: with that you\nwill feel all your old consciousness of strength and dignity. But,\nby all you hold dear, let the wigands go forth with honour!\"\n\nLareyn was not slow to own that the counsel was good, and spoke as\nif he would have followed it. But when he put on the ring, and found\nhimself endowed once more with twelve men's strength, he could not\nforbear taking his sweet revenge for his yesterday's defeat and danger.\n\nFirst, he had sevenfold bolts put on Dietlieb's door, that he might\nnot be able to come forth and aid his brethren; and then he sent\nand called for one of the giants, who were always true allies to the\ndwarfs, and entreated him to carry the heroes to a deep dungeon below\nthe roots of the mountains, where they should be bound, and shut out\nfrom the light of day, and never again be able to do him harm.\n\nThe feat pleased the giant well; and, having bound a cord round the\nwaist of each of the sleeping heroes, slung the four over his shoulder\nas if they had been no heavier than sparrows, and carried them to the\ndungeon below the roots of the mountains, whither Lareyn led the way,\nnow skipping, now dancing, now singing, now laughing in high glee,\nto think how well he had succeeded in ridding him of his foes--but\nforgetting all about Simild's advice, and his promise to her.\n\nIt was not till next morning that the heroes woke; and then all was\ncold and dark around them, and they knew they were no longer in the\nhall of the banquet, for the iron chains and stanchions, the chill,\nand must, and damp, and slime, told them they were in a dungeon\nunder earth.\n\nLoudly they all exclaimed against the deceit with which they had\nbeen caught, and loudly they all swore to find means to punish the\ntreacherous captor. But Theodoric's anger was greater than the anger\nof them all; and the fiery breath [39] glowed so hot within him that\nit scorched away the bonds with which he was bound!\n\nOnce more, then, his hands at least were free, and his companions\ngave him joy; but his feet were still held to the rock by chains\nof hard steel, the links as thick as a man's arm. Nevertheless, his\nindignation was so great that when he beat them with his fists they\nwere obliged to yield, as they had been made of egg-shell; and when he\nhad broken his own chains he set to work and released the others also.\n\nGreat was their joy and thankfulness; but heaviness came down on them\nagain when they saw themselves closed in by the cruel rock, and all\ntheir armour and weapons of defence locked up far away from them in\nthe Norg's castle. Another day they lay there in despair, and another,\nfor wise Hildebrand saw no way of passing through the rock [40].\n\nMeantime Simild had grown uneasy at the silence that reigned in\nthe palace; there was no more sound of revel and festivity, and of\nentertaining guests. She was no more sent for to entertain them, and\nLareyn hid himself from her, and avoided her. In dire fear she hunted\nout the right key of her brother's apartment, and having covered\nthe glowing carbuncle in her coronet, which lighted up every place,\ncrept along silently till she had reached him.\n\n\"Sister mine!\" exclaimed Dietlieb, \"what does this mean? why am I\nheld fast by seven locks? and why do no tidings of my companions\nreach me? Oh! had I but my sword and shield, I would release them\nfrom the hands of Lareyn, and of how many Norgs soever he may have\nat his command! or at least I would not survive to bear the shame of\nliving while they are in I know not what plight.\"\n\n\"Dietlieb, be guided by me,\" replied the maiden: \"we must deliver them\nout of the dire dungeon in which Lareyn has treacherously confined\nthem, but also we must have your life and honour safe. Take this ring\nupon your hand, for against him who wears it none can prevail; and\nthen go and deliver your companions.\" With that she took him along\nto where his armour lay concealed; and having girt him with it, she\nsaid many a fervent blessing [41] over him, to preserve him from harm.\n\nEndowed with the strength the ring gave him, Dietlieb was able to\nload himself with the arms and armour of all the four heroes; and at\nits command a way was made in the rock, through which he passed it in\nto them. As each piece fell upon the hard floor, the clang re-echoed\nthrough the far-off mountains.\n\nLareyn heard the noise, and knew what had befallen, so he sounded on\nhis horn the note that was known far and wide through all the lands\nof the Norgs; and at the call three hundred thousand dwarfs appeared\nswarming over the whole face of the country.\n\n\"To me, my men! to me!\" cried Lareyn, as they drew near. \"Before you\nstands he who has essayed to release our enemies whom I and the giant\nhad bound under the roots of the mountains. He has given them back\ntheir strong armour and their weapons of war, and if they get loose\nand come among us, great havoc will they make of us, therefore smite\nhim down and destroy him!\"\n\nThe dwarfs rushed on Dietlieb at the bidding of the king; but\nLareyn would not engage him himself, because he had fought for his\nrelease. Dietlieb, young and strong, stood planted against a vault\nof the rock, and as the mannikins approached him, he showered his\nblows upon them, and sent them sprawling, till the dead and mangled\nwere piled up knee-deep around him.\n\nThe heroes heard the sound of the battle in their prison, and they\nlonged to take their part in the fray; but they saw no means of\nbreaking through the rock to reach him, till Hildebrand bethought him\nthat he had yet with him the girdle he had picked up when Theodoric\ntore it from the Norg-king's body. This he now handed to the hero.\n\nTheodoric took it, and spoke not for joy, but with its strength tore\ndown the living rock round the opening Dietlieb's ring had made,\nand burst his way to stand beside the brave young Steier\u00e4re. This\ndone, scorning the girdle's strength, he cast it back to Hildebrand,\ntrusting in his good sword alone.\n\n\"Now, treacherous dwarf, come on!\" he cried. \"No knightly troth has\nbound you, but against us, your guests and allies, you have acted\nas one who has no right to live! Come here, and let me give you the\nguerdon you have earned!\"\n\nLareyn refused not; and the two fought with fury terrible to\nbehold. And yet Theodoric prevailed not. Then Hildebrand discerned\nthe ring of twelve-men's-strength on Lareyn's hand, where it was\nnot before, and knew it was a talisman, so he called to Theodoric,\nand said,--\n\n\"Dietrich, my prince, seize yonder ring upon the Norg-king's hand! so\nshall his strength be no more increased by the powers of his magic.\"\n\nTheodoric, ever prone to be guided by the advice of the Sage, directed\na mighty blow upon the ring, so that the hoop must fain give way;\nand the dwarf's power went from him.\n\n\"Now all your hosts, and all your arts, and all your gold shall profit\nyou nothing more!\" So cried the Bern\u00e4re; \"but condign penalties you\nmust suffer for your crime. My prisoner you are, nor is there any\ncan deliver you more.\"\n\nThe Norgs, grieving for their king's loss, trooped round Theodoric\nand attacked him on every side; but he swang his good sword Velsungen\naround, and at every sweep a hundred Norg's heads fell pattering at\nhis feet. Suddenly a little dwarf came running out from the mountain\nrock, and seizing Lareyn's horn, blew on it notes which wandered wild\nthrough all the forest-trees.\n\nFive giants lived in the forest, and when they heard those notes they\nknew the Norgs were in dire distress. With swift strides they came;\ntheir helmets flashed like lightning over the tops of the pines;\nand each brought his sword and pike of trenchant steel. The little\ndwarf saw his brethren mown down like grass before the scythe,\nand again sent forth his far-sounding notes of distress. The giants\nheard it, and marched over hill and dale, till they came before the\nmountain-side. Again the little dwarf sent out his appeal, and the\ngiants burst their way through the mountain; but albeit they came\nwith such speed, twelve thousand Norgs were meantime lost to King\nLareyn by Velsungen's strokes.\n\nDietlieb and Hildebrand, Wittich and Wolfhart mowed down their\nharvest too.\n\nNow they had to prepare for another kind of attack, for in fearful\narray the five giants came down upon them, brandishing their clubs of\nsteel. But neither could these stand before the swords of the heroes,\nand each several one laid low his adversary.\n\nWhen the Norgs saw that their king was bound, and their best\nfighting-men destroyed, and the giants themselves without breath,\nthey knew they could stand no longer before the wigands, but each\nturned him and fled for refuge to the mountains.\n\nThe heroes then, seeing no more left to slay, went into the\nbanquet-hall, where only Simild stood, for all the Norgs had hidden\nthemselves in fear.\n\n\"Welcome, noble brother! and welcome, bold swords all!\" cried the maid;\n\"you have delivered us from this treacherous king. Now you will go\nhome to your own land with glory and honour, and take me with you.\"\n\nThe heroes returned her greeting, and rejoiced in her praise; then\nthey piled up the treasure on to waggons, all they could carry, and\nin triumph they made their way to earth, and Lareyn with them, bound.\n\nFirst they directed their steps to Styria, till they came to the\nspreading linden-tree whence Simild had first been taken; for there\nsat Duke Biterolf, her father, bewailing his bereavement, and around\nhim trooped her maidens lamenting their companion.\n\nAll was restored to joy and gladness now that Simild was at home\nagain. They passed seven days in high festival, the heroes all\ntogether; and many a time they had to tell the tale of their bold\ndeeds, and the wonders of the mountain-world. And the minstrels sang\nto the merits of the conquerors, while the merry bowl passed round\nand round.\n\nAt last Theodoric rose and thanked Biterolf for his hospitality,\nwho thanked him in return right heartily for the help he had lent\nhis son. With that Theodoric took his leave, and along with him went\nHildebrand the Sage, and Wittich the Wigand, and the strong Wolfhart,\nand King Lareyn too, of whom Theodoric made his court-fool in his\npalace at Verona.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE NICKEL [42] OF THE R\u00d6HRERB\u00dcCHEL.\n\n\nFrom the fourteenth to the sixteenth, in some few places down\nto the seventeenth, centuries the mountains of Tirol were in many\nlocalities profitably worked in the search after the precious metals;\nmany families were enriched; and the skill of the Tirolese miners\npassed into a proverb throughout Europe. When the veins lying near the\nsurface had been worked out, the difficulty of bringing the machinery\nrequired for deeper workings into use, in a country whose soil has\nnowhere three square miles of plain, rendered the further pursuit so\nexpensive that it was in great measure abandoned, though some iron and\ncopper is still got out. There are many old shafts entirely deserted,\nand their long and intricate passages into the bowels of the earth\nnot only afford curious places of excursion to the tourist, but are\nreplete with fantastic memories of their earlier destination.\n\nOne of the most remarkable of these is the so-called R\u00f6hrerb\u00fcchel,\nwhich is situated between Kitzb\u00fchl and St. Johann, and not far from\nthe latter place. It was one of the most productive and one of the\nlatest worked, and it boasted of having the deepest shaft that had\never been sunk in Europe; but for above a hundred and fifty years it\nhas been taub [43], that is, deaf, to the sound of the pick and the\nhammer and the voices of the Knappen [44].\n\nI have given you my way of accounting for the cessation of the\nmining-works. The people have another explanation. They say that the\nBergm\u00e4nnlein, or little men of the mountains--the dwarfs who were the\npresiding guardians of these mineral treasures--were so disgusted\nwith the avarice with which the people seized upon their stores,\nthat they refused to lend them their help any more, and that without\ntheir guidance the miners were no longer able to carry on their search\naright, and the gnomes took themselves off to other countries.\n\nOne of these little men of the mountains, however, there was in\nthe R\u00f6hrerb\u00fcchle who loved his ancient house too well to go forth\nto seek another; he still lingered about the mile-long clefts and\npassages which once had been rich with ore, and often the peasants\nheard him bewailing, and singing melancholy ditties, over his lonely\nfate. They even thought he came out sometimes to watch them sadly\nin their companionship of labour, and peeped through their windows\nat them in their cosy cottages, while it was cold and dark where he\nstood without: and many there were who took an interest in the Nickel\nof the R\u00f6hrerb\u00fcchel.\n\n\n\nThe Goigner J\u00f6ssl [45] had been mowing the grassy slope near the\nopening of the R\u00f6hrerb\u00fcchl; he was just putting up his implements to\ncarry home after his day's toil, when he espied the orphan Aennerl\n[46] coming towards him. Her dark eyes had met his before that day,\nand he never met her glance without a thrill of joy.\n\n\"I have been over to Oberndorf for a day's work,\" said orphan Aennerl,\n\"and as I came back I thought I would turn aside this way, and see\nhow you were getting on; and then we can go home together.\"\n\n\"So we will,\" answered J\u00f6ssl; \"but we're both tired, and the sun\nisn't gone yet--let's sit down and have a bit of talk before we go.\"\n\nOrphan Aennerl was nothing loath; and they sat and talked of the\nevents of the day, and their companions, and their work, and the\nweather, and the prospects of the morrow. But both seemed to feel\nthere was something else to be said, and they sat on, as not knowing\nhow to begin.\n\nAt last J\u00f6ssl removed his pointed hat from his head and laid it by his\nside, and took out and replaced the jaunty feathers which testified\nhis prowess in the holiday sport [47], and finally cleared his throat\nto say, softly,--\n\n\"Is this not happiness, Aennerl?--what can we want more in this\nworld? True, we work hard all day, but is not our toil repaid when\nwe sit together thus, while the warm evening sun shines round us,\nand the blue heaven above and the green fields below smile on us,\nand we are together? Aennerl, shall we not be always happy together?\"\n\nThey were the very words that orphan Aennerl had so often longed to\nhear her J\u00f6ssl say. Something like them she had repeated to herself\nagain and again, and wondered if the happy day would ever come when\nshe should hear them from his own lips. Had he said them to her any day\nof her whole life before, how warmly would she have responded to them!\n\nTo-day, however, it was different. The rich peasant's wife for whom\nthe poor orphan worked had been harsh to her that day, and for the\nfirst time envious thoughts had found entrance into her mind, and\ndiscontent at her lowly lot.\n\nSo, instead of assenting warmly, she only said,--\n\n\"Of course it's very nice, J\u00f6ssl, but then it's only for a little\nbit, you see. The hard toil lasts all day, nevertheless. Now to have\na Hof [48] of one's own, like the one I work upon at Oberndorf, with\nplenty of cattle, and corn, and servants to work for you, that's what\nI should call being happy! Sitting together in the sunset is all very\nwell, but we might have that besides.\"\n\nThe good, hard-working, thrifty, God-fearing J\u00f6ssl looked aghast to\nhear his Aennerl speak so. Beyond his day's wage honestly worked for,\nand the feather in his Trutzhut bravely contended for, and his beloved\nAennerl wooed with tenderness and constancy--he had not a thought or\na wish in the wide world. Hitherto her views had been the counterpart\nof his; now, for the first time, he perceived there was something\nhad come between them, and he felt disappointed and estranged.\n\n\"If that's your view, Aennerl girl, it isn't the Goigner J\u00f6ssl that\nwill be able to make you happy,\" replied the youth at length, coldly;\n\"your best chance would be with the Nickel of the R\u00f6hrerb\u00fcchel,\" he\nadded, almost bitterly, as one who would say, Your case is desperate;\nyou have no chance at all.\n\n\"What was that?\" said Aennerl, suddenly starting. \"Who can be working\nso late? Don't you hear a pick go 'click, clack'? Who can it be?\"\n\n\"No one is working at this hour,\" replied J\u00f6ssl, in no mood to be\npleased at the interruption. But as he spoke the bells of the villages\naround toned forth the Ave-Maria. Both folded their hands devoutly\nfor the evening prayer; and in the still silence that ensued he could\nnot deny that he heard the sound of the pick vigorously at work,\nand that, as it seemed, under the ground directly beneath their feet.\n\n\"It is the Bergm\u00e4nnlein--it must be the Bergm\u00e4nnlein\nhimself!\" exclaimed Aennerl, with excitement.\n\n\"Nonsense! what silly tales are you thinking of?\" replied J\u00f6ssl,\ninwardly reproaching himself for the light words he had just spoken\nsuggesting the invocation of a superstition with which his honest,\ndevout nature felt no sympathy; and, without letting the excited girl\nexert herself to catch the strange sounds further, he led her home.\n\nAennerl's curiosity was roused, however, and was not to be so easily\nlaid to rest.\n\nThe next evening J\u00f6ssl's work lay in a different direction, but no\nsooner had the hour of the evening rest arrived than he started on the\nroad to Oberndorf, to see if he could meet his Aennerl coming home. But\nthere was no Aennerl on the path; and he turned homewards with a heavy\nheart, fearing lest he had offended her, and that she was shunning him.\n\nBut Aennerl, whom the desire of being rich had overcome with all the\nforce of a new passion, had been more absorbed on that last memorable\nevening by the idea of having heard the Bergm\u00e4nnlein at work amid the\nriches of the mines than with--what would have been so terrible a grief\nat any other time--having offended her faithful J\u00f6ssl. Accordingly,\non the next evening, instead of being on the look-out for J\u00f6ssl to\nwalk home with her, her one thought had been to find out the same\nplace on the bank where they had sat--not with loving affection to\nrecall the happy words she had heard there, but to listen for the\nsound of the Bergm\u00e4nnl's axe, and perhaps follow it out; and then--and\nthen--who could tell what might befall? Perhaps she might be able to\nobtain some chips of those vast wealth-stores unperceived; perhaps\nthe Bergm\u00e4nnl's heart might be opened to her--who could say but,\nin some mode or other, it might be the way to fortune?\n\nShe was not long in tracing out the spot, for she had marked the angle\nwhich the well-known outline of the mighty Sonnengebirg bore to the\njagged \"comb [49]\" of the Kitzbichler-Horn, and for a nearer token,\nthere lay, just before her, the crushed wild-flower which her J\u00f6ssl\nhad twisted and torn in his nervousness as he had brought himself to\nspeak to her for the first time of their future. But she thought not\nof all that at that time; she was only concerned to find the spot,\nand to listen for the stroke of the Nickel's pickaxe. \"Hush!\" that\nwas it again, sure enough! She lingers not on that happy bank; she\nstops not to pick up one of those wild-flower tokens: 'click, clack,'\ngoes the axe, and that is the sound to guide her steps. The village\nbells sound the Ave-Maria, but the sacred notes arrest her not--the\nevening prayer is forgotten in the thirst for gold.\n\nBut J\u00f6ssl heard the holy sound as he was retracing his steps\nmournfully from his fruitless search after her, having missed her by\nbut a minute's interval. He heard it as he was passing a little old,\nold wayside chapel, which you may yet see, with a lordly pine-tree\novershadowing it, and which records the melancholy fate of some Knappen\nwho perished in the underground workings. J\u00f6ssl, who has no fear on the\nsteep mountain-side, and loves to hang dangerously between earth and\nsky when he is out after the chamois, shudders when he thinks of those\nlong, dark, mysterious passages where the miners worked underground,\nand, as he kneels on the stone step of that wayside memorial, obedient\nto the village-bell, involuntarily applies his prayer to all those\nwho have to penetrate those strange recesses: \"Be with them; help them\nnow and in the hour of death. Amen.\" If you had told him his Aennerl\nwas included in that prayer he would not have believed you then.\n\nMeantime Aennerl had found her way to the opening of the old mine. It\nhas a lateral shaft through which you may walk some distance--a\nvery long way it seemed to Aennerl, now breathless and trembling,\nbut the nearing sounds of the Bergm\u00e4nnl's tool kept up her courage,\nand determined her not to give in till she had attained the goal.\n\nOn she went, groping her way with fear and trembling, and expecting\nevery moment to come upon some terrible sight. But, far from this,\nin proportion as she got deeper into the intricate passages of the\nR\u00f6hrerb\u00fcchel, the way, instead of getting darker, grew lighter and\nlighter. A pale, clear, rosy light played on the sides of the working,\nwhich, now that she looked at them close, she found to her astonishment\nwere not made of rough, yellow clay, as she had thought hitherto,\nbut of pure, sparkling gold, and encrusted with gems!\n\nIt was no longer fear that palsied her, it was a fascination of\ndelight at finding herself in the midst of those riches she coveted,\nbut the near approach of which brought back misgivings of the danger\nof their possession of which she had so often heard, though without\never previously feeling an application to herself in the warning.\n\nHer curiosity far too strongly stimulated to yield to the counsel of\nher conscience to turn and flee the temptation, she walked stealthily\non and on, till the faint, rosy light grew into a red, radiant glow,\nwhich, as she reached its focus, quite dazzled her senses.\n\nShe now found herself in a broad and lofty clearing, into which the\nlong narrow passage she had so long been timorously pursuing ran,\nand in the sides of which she saw the openings of many other similar\nramifications. The walls, which arched it in overhead and closed\nit from the daylight, were of gold and silver curiously intermixed,\nburnished resplendently, and their brilliance so overcame her that\nit was some minutes before she could recover her sight to examine\nmore particularly the details of this magnificent abode.\n\nThen she discovered that all this blaze of light came from one huge\ncarbuncle [50], and that carbuncle was set in the breast-bib of the\nleathern apron worn by a dwarf, the clang of whose pickaxe had lured\nher to the uncanny spot.\n\nThe dwarf was much too busily and too noisily engaged to notice\nAennerl's footsteps, so she had plenty of leisure to examine him. He\nwas a little awkward-shaped fellow, nearly as broad as he was long,\nwith brawny muscular arms which enabled him to wield his pick with\ntremendous effect. He seemed, however, to be wielding it merely\nfor exercise or sport, for there did not appear to be any particular\nadvantage to be gained from his work, which only consisted in chipping\nup a huge block of gold, and there were heaps on heaps of such chips\nalready lying about. Though his muscles displayed so much strength,\nhowever, his face gave you the idea of a miserable, worn-out old man;\nhis cheeks were wrinkled and furrowed and bronzed; and the matted\nhair of his head and beard was snowy white. As he worked he sang,\nin dull, low, unmelodious chant, to which his pick beat time,--\n\n\n    \"The weary Bergm\u00e4nnl, old and grey,\n    Sits alone in a cleft of the earth for aye,\n    With never a friend to say, 'Good day.'\n    For a thousand years, and ten thousand more,\n    He has guarded earth's precious silver store,\n    Keeping count of her treasures of golden ore\n    By the light of the bright Karfunkelstein [51],\n    The only light of the Bergm\u00e4nnlein\n      But never a friend to say, 'Good day,'\n      As he sits in a cleft of the earth for aye,\n      Has the lonely Bergm\u00e4nnl, old and grey!\"\n\n\nHe had poured out his ditty many times over while Aennerl stood\ngazing at the strange and gorgeous scene. The ugly, misshapen,\nmiserable old man seemed altogether out of place amid the glories of\nthe wonderful treasure-house; and the glittering treasures themselves\nin turn seemed misplaced in this remote subterranean retreat. Aennerl\nwas quite puzzled how to make it all out. It was the Nickel of the\nR\u00f6hrerb\u00fcchel who was before her, she had no doubt of that, for he\nwas exactly what the tradition of the people had always described\nhim, and she had heard his ungainly form described before she could\nspeak; so familiar he seemed, indeed, from those many descriptions,\nthat it took away great part of the fear natural to finding herself\nin so novel a situation.\n\nAt last the dwarf suddenly stopped his labour, and, as if in very\nweariness, flung the tool he had been using far from him, so that\nit fell upon a heap of gold chips near which Aennerl was standing,\nscattering them in all directions. One of the sharp bits of ore hit\nher rudely on the chin, and, anxious as she was to escape observation,\nshe could not suppress a little cry of pain.\n\nOld and withered and haggard as he seemed, the Cobbold's eye glittered\nwith a light only second to that of the Karfunkelstein itself at the\nsound of a maiden's voice, and quickly he turned to seize her. Aennerl\nturned and fled, but the Nickel, throwing his leathern apron over\nthe shining stone on his breast, plunged the whole place in darkness,\nand Aennerl soon lost her footing among the unevennesses of the way\nand lay helpless on the ground. Her pursuer, to whom every winding\nhad been as familiar as the way to his pocket these thousand years,\nwas by her side in a trice, still singing, as he came along,--\n\n\n    \"But never a friend to say, 'Good day,'\n    As he sits in a cleft of the earth for aye,\n    Has the lonely Bergm\u00e4nnl, old and grey!\"\n\n\nThe self-pitying words, and the melancholy tone in which they were\nuttered, changed most of Aennerl's alarm into compassion; and when the\ndwarf uncovered the carbuncle again, and the bright, warm red light\nplayed once more around them, and showed up the masses of gold after\nwhich she had so longed, she began to feel almost at home, so that\nwhen the dwarf asked her who she was and what had brought her there,\nshe answered him quite naturally, and told him all her story.\n\n\"To tell you the truth,\" said the Cobbold, when she had finished,\n\"I am pretty well tired of having all this to myself. I was very\nangry at one time, it is true, with the way in which your fellows\nwent to work destroying and carrying every thing away, and leaving\nnothing for those that are to come after, and I was determined to\nput a stop to it. I am not here to look after one generation, or two,\nor three, but for the whole lot of you in all the ages of the world,\nand I must keep things in some order. But now they have given this\nplace up and left me alone, I confess I feel not a little sorry. I\nused to like to listen to their busy noises, and their songs, and\nthe tramp of their feet. So, if you've a mind to make up for it,\nand come and sit with me for a bit now and then, and sing to me some\nof the lively songs you have in your world up there, I don't say I\nwon't give you a lapful of gold now and then.\"\n\nA lapful of gold! what peasant girl would mind sitting for a bit now\nand then, and singing to a poor lonely old fellow, to be rewarded\nwith a lapful of gold? Certainly not Aennerl! Too delighted to speak,\nshe only beamed assent with her dark, flashing eyes, and clapped her\nhands and laughed for joy.\n\n\"It's many a day since these walls have echoed a sound like that,\" said\nthe dwarf, with deep feeling, and as Aennerl's smile rested on him, it\nseemed to wipe away some of the rough dark wrinkles that furrowed his\ncheeks and relax the tension of his knit brows. \"And yet there's more\nworth in those echoes than in all the metallic riches which resound to\nthem! Yes, my lass, only come and see the poor old Bergm\u00e4nnl sometimes,\nand cheer him a bit, and you shall have what you will of his.\"\n\nWith that he led her gently back into the great vault where she had\nfirst seen him working, and, stirring up a heap with his foot, said,--\n\n\"There, lass, there's the Bergm\u00e4nnl's store; take what you will--it is\nnot the Bergm\u00e4nnl that would say nay to a comely wench like you. Why,\nif I were younger, and a better-looking fellow, it would not be my\nlapfuls of gold I should offer you, it would be the whole lot of\nit--and myself to boot! No, no, I shouldn't let you go from me again:\nsuch a pretty bird does not come on to the snare to be let fly again,\nI promise you! But I'm old and grey, and my hoary beard is no match for\nyour dainty cheeks. But take what you will, take what you will--only\ncome and cheer up the poor old Bergm\u00e4nnl a bit sometimes.\"\n\nAennerl had not wanted to be told twice. Already she had filled her\nlarge pouch and her apron and her kerchief with all the alacrity\nof greed. So much occupied was she with stowing away the greatest\npossible amount of the spoil, that she scarcely remembered to thank\nthe Bergm\u00e4nnl, who, however, found pleasure enough in observing the\nrapturous gestures her good fortune elicited.\n\n\"You'll come again?\" said the Cobbold, as he saw her turn to go when\nshe had settled her burden in such a way that its weight should least\nimpede her walking.\n\n\"Oh, yes, never fear, I'll come again! When shall I come?\"\n\n\"Oh, when you will! Let's see, to-day's Saturday, isn't it? Well,\nnext Saturday, if you like.\"\n\n\"Till next Saturday, then, good-bye!\" said Aennerl, panting only to\nturn her gold to account; and so full was she of calculation of what\nshe would do with it, that she never noticed the poor old dwarf was\ncoming behind her to light her, and singing, as he went,--\n\n\n    \"The weary Bergm\u00e4nnl, old and grey,\n      Sits alone in a cleft of the earth for aye,\n      With never a friend to say, 'Good day.'\n    For a thousand years, and ten thousand more,\n    He has guarded earth's precious silver store,\n    Keeping count of her treasures of golden ore\n    By the light of the bright Karfunkelstein,\n    The only light of the Bergm\u00e4nnlein.\n      But never a friend to say, 'Good day,'\n      As he sits in a cleft of the earth for aye,\n      Has the lonely Bergm\u00e4nnl, old and grey!\"\n\n\nAennerl had no time for pity; she was wholly absorbed in the\ncalculation of the grand things she could now buy, the fine dresses\nshe would be able to wear, and in rehearsing the harsh speeches of\ncommand with which she would let fling at the girls whom she would\ntake into her service, and who yesterday were the companions-in-labour\nof orphan Aennerl.\n\nThe village was all wrapt in silence and sleep as Aennerl got back\nwith her treasure.\n\n\"So late, and so laden! poor child!\" said the parish priest, as he\ncame out of a large old house into the lane, and met her. \"I have\nbeen commending to God the soul of our worthy neighbour Bartl. He was\nopen-handed in his charity, and the poor will miss a friend; he gave us\na good example while he lived--Aennerl, my child, bet' f\u00fcr ihn [52].\"\n\nAennerl scarcely returned his greeting, nor found one word of sorrow\nto lament the loss of the good old Bartl; for one thought had taken\npossession of her mind at first hearing of his death. Old Bartl had\na fine homestead, and one in which all was in good order; but Bartl\nwas alone in the world, there was no heir to enter on his goods: it\nwas well known that he had left all to the hospital, and the place\nwould be sold. What a chance for Aennerl! There was no homestead in\nthe whole Gebiet [53] in such good order, or so well worth having,\nas the Hof of old Bartl.\n\nAennerl already reckoned it as hers, and in the meantime kept an eye\nopen for any chances of good stock that might come into the market.\n\nNor were chances wanting. The illness which had carried old Bartl to\nthe grave had been caught at the bedside of the Wilder J\u00fcrgl [54]. A\nfine young man he had been indeed, but the villagers had not called him\n\"Wild\" without reason; and because he had loved all sorts of games,\nand a gossip in the tavern, and a dance with the village maids more\nthan work, all he had was in confusion. He always said he was young,\nand he would set all straight by-and-by, there was plenty of time. But\ndeath cut him off, young as he was; and his widow found herself next\nmorning alone in the world, with three sturdy boys to provide for,\nall too young to earn a crust, and all J\u00fcrgl's debts to meet into the\nbargain. There was no help for it: the three fine cows which were the\nenvy of the village, and which had been her portion at her father's\ndeath, only six months before, must be sold.\n\nAennerl was the purchaser. Once conscience reproached her with a\nmemory of the days long gone by, when she and that young widow were\nplaymates, when orphan Aennerl had been taken home from her mother's\ngrave by that same widow's father, and the two children had grown up\nin confidence and affection with each other. \"Suppose I left her the\ncows and the money too?\" mused Aennerl--but only for a moment. No;\nhad they been any other cows, it might have been different--but just\nthose three which all the village praised! one which had carried\noff the prize and the garland of roses at the last cow-fight [55],\nand the others were only next in rank. That was a purchase not to be\nthrown away. Still she was dissatisfied with herself, and inclined\nto sift her own mind further, when she was distracted by the approach\nof loud tramping steps, as of one carrying a burden.\n\nIt was the Langer Peterl; and a goodly burden he bore, indeed--a\nburden which was sure to gather round him all the people of Reith,\nor any other place through which he might pass.\n\nAennerl laughed and clapped her hands. \"Oh, Peterl, you come erw\u00fcnscht\n[56]!\" she exclaimed. \"Show me what you have got to sell--show me all\nyour pretty things! I want an entirely new rig-out. Make haste! show\nme the best--the very best--you have brought.\"\n\n\"Show you the best, indeed!\" said the Langer Peterl, scarcely\nslackening his pace, and not removing the pipe from his mouth; for\nhitherto he had only known the orphan Aennerl by her not being one of\nhis customers. \"Show you the best, indeed, that what you can't buy you\nmay amuse yourself with a sight of! And when you've soiled it all with\nyour greasy fingers, who'll buy it, d'you suppose? A likely matter,\nindeed! Show you the best! ha! ha! ha! you don't come over me like\nthat, though you have got a pair of dark eyes which look through into\na fellow's marrow!\"\n\n\"Nonsense, Peterl!\" replied Aennerl, too delighted with the thought\nof the finery in prospect even to resent the taunt; \"I don't want\nto look at it merely--not I, I can tell you! I want to buy it--buy\nit all up--and pay you your own price! Here, look here, does this\nplease you?\" and she showed him a store of gold such as in all his\ntravels he had never seen before.\n\n\"Oh, if that's your game,\" said the long Peter, with an entirely\nchanged manner, \"pick and choose, my lady, pick and choose! Here are\nsilks and satins and laces, of which I've sold the dittos to real\nladies and countesses; there are----\"\n\n\"Oh, show me the dittos of what real ladies and countesses have\nbought!\" exclaimed Aennerl, with a scream of delight; and the pedlar,\nwho was not much more scrupulous than others of his craft, made\nhaste to display his gaudiest wares, taking care not to own that\nit was seldom enough his pack was lightened by the purchases of a\n\"real lady.\" To have heard him you would have thought his dealings\nwere only with the highest of the land.\n\nBut it needed only to say, \"This is what my lady the Countess of\nLangtaufers wears,\" \"This is what my lady the Baronin Schroffenstein\nbought of me,\" for Aennerl to buy it at the highest price the Long\nPeter's easy conscience could let him extort; and, indeed, had he not\nfelt a certain commercial necessity for reserving something to keep up\nhis connexion with his ordinary customers on the rest of his line of\nroute, orphan Aennerl would have bought up all that was offered her\nunder these pretences, and without stopping to consider whether the\nmaterials or colours were well assorted, or whether such titles as\nthose with which the pedlar dazzled her understanding existed at all!\n\nThe next day was a village festival in Reith. And the quiet people of\nReith thought the orphan Aennerl had gone fairly mad when they saw at\nchurch the extravagant figure she cut in her newly-acquired finery;\nfor, in her hurry to display it, she had in one way and another piled\nher whole stock of purchases on her person at once. A showy skirt\nembroidered with large flowers of many colours, and trimmed with\ndeep lace, was looped up with bright blue ribbons and rosettes over a\npetticoat of violet satin, beneath which another of a brilliant green\nwas to be seen. Beneath this again, you might have descried a pair of\nscarlet stockings; and on her shining shoes a pair of many-coloured\nrosettes and shoe-buckles. The black tight-fitting bodice of the local\ncostume was replaced by a kind of scarlet hussar's jacket trimmed with\nfur, fastened at the throat and waist with brooches which must have\nbeen originally designed for a stage-queen. From her ears dangled\nearrings of Brobdignagian dimensions; and on her head was a hat and\nfeathers as unlike the little hat worn by all in Reith as one piece\nof head-gear could well be to another.\n\nOf course, it did not befit a lady so decked to take the lowly seat\nwhich had served the orphan Aennerl; before the Divine office began\nshe had seated herself in the most conspicuous place in the church,\nso that no one lost the benefit of the exhibition; and it may well\nbe believed that the congregation had no sooner poured out of the\nsacred building than the appearance of the orphan Aennerl was the\none theme of a general and noisy conversation.\n\nFor some it was a source of envy; for some, of ridicule; for some\nunsophisticated minds, of simple admiration. But the wiser heads kept\nsilence, or said, in tones of sympathy, \"The orphan Aennerl isn't\nthe girl the Goigner J\u00f6ssl took her for.\"\n\nJ\u00f6ssl had been to church in his own village of Goign, and had therefore\nbeen spared the sight, as well as the comments it had elicited. But\nas he came towards Reith to take his Aennerl for the holiday walk,\nhe noticed many strange bits of hinting in the greetings he received,\nwhich puzzled him so, that, instead of going straight on to Aennerl,\nhe sat down on the churchyard wall, pondering what it could all\nmean. \"I wish you joy of your orphan Aennerl!\" one had said. \"Goigner\nJ\u00f6ssl, Goigner J\u00f6ssl, take my advice, and shun the threshold of orphan\nAennerl!\" were the words of another, and he was an old man and a sage\nfriend too. \"Beware, Goigner J\u00f6ssl, beware!\" seemed written on every\nface he had met--what could it all mean? He wandered forward uncertain,\nand then back again, then on again, till he could bear it no longer,\nand he determined to go down to the Wirthshaus beim Stangl, and ask\nhis mates to their face what they all meant.\n\nBefore he came in sight of the door, however, he changed his\nresolution. Through the open window he heard noisy talk, and noisiest\nof all was the voice of the Langer Peterl. Honest J\u00f6ssl had an\ninvincible antipathy to the wheedling, the gossip, the bluster, and\nthe evil tongue of the Langer Peterl, and he never trusted himself to\njoin his company, for he knew a meeting with him always led to words.\n\nDetermining to wait till he was gone, he walked about outside, and\nas there is always a train of waggons waiting at the Wirthshaus am\nStangl while the wayworn carters refresh themselves, he could easily\nremain unperceived.\n\nThus, however, he became unintentionally the hearer of all he desired\nto know--much more than he desired, I should say.\n\n\"I tell you, she,--Aennerl would have bought my whole pack if I'd\nhave let her!\" vociferated the Langer Peterl; \"and I might have\nsaved myself all further tramping, but that I wouldn't disappoint my\npretty Ursal, and Trausl, and Moidl, and Marie,\" he added, in a tone\nof righteousness.\n\n\"Buy it, man! you don't mean buy it! She got it out of you one way\nor another, but you don't mean she bought it, in the sense of paying\nfor it?\"\n\n\"Yes, I do. I say, she paid for it in pure gold!\"\n\n\"No, that won't do!\" said other voices; \"where could she get gold\nfrom?\"\n\n\"Oh, that's not my affair,\" replied the pedlar, \"where she got it\nfrom! It wouldn't do for a poor pedlar to ask where his customers\nget their money from--ha! ha! ha! I'm not such a fool as that! I\nknow the girl couldn't have it rightfully, as well as you do, but it\nwouldn't do for me to refuse all the money I suspect is not honestly\ncome by--ha! ha! I should then drive a sorry trade indeed!\"\n\nJ\u00f6ssl's first impulse had been to fly at the Langer Peterl, and, as\nhe would have expressed it, thrust the lie down his throat; but then,\nhe reflected; where had the girl got the money from? what could he\nsay? To dispute it without having means of disproving it was only\nopening wider the sore; and while he stood dejected and uncertain\nthe conversation went on more animated than before.\n\n\"I agree with you!\" cried, between two whiffs of smoke, an idle\nBursch, on whom since the death of the Wilder J\u00fcrgl that nickname had\ndescended by common consent. \"What right have we to be prying into\nour neighbour's business? If the girl's got money, why should any\none say she hasn't a right to it? She's an uncommon fine girl, I say,\nand looks a long way better than she did before in her beggarly rags;\nand a girl that can afford to dress like that is not to be despised,\nI say.\"\n\nThat the speaker had only received the cognomen of Wild after the\nWilder J\u00fcrgl was only in that he was younger; he had earned the\nright to it in a tenfold degree. None of the steady lads of either\nGoign or Reith or Elmau, or any other place in the neighbourhood,\nwould make a friend of him, and that is why he now sat apart from\nthe others smoking in a corner.\n\nTo be praised and defended by the Wilder Karl was a worse compliment\nthan to be suspected by the steadier ones. The words therefore threw\nthe assembly into some embarrassment for a moment, till the Kleiner\nFriedl [57], a sworn friend of J\u00f6ssl, thinking he ought to strike a\nblow in his defence somewhere, cried out, in a menacing tone,--\n\n\"Very well played, Wilder Karl! but I see your game. You think because\nthe girl's got money she's a good chance for you. You think her\nflaunting way will estrange steady Goigner J\u00f6ssl, and then you think\nyou may step in between them--and a sorry figure she'd cut two days\nafter you'd had the handling of her! She wouldn't have much finery\nleft then, I'll warrant! The Langer Peterl there would have it all\nback at half-price, and that half-price would all be in the pocket\nof our honest Wirth am Stangl. But it's in vain; whatever she is,\nshe'll be true to the Goigner J\u00f6ssl, I'll warrant--and as for you,\nshe wouldn't look at you!\"\n\nWilder Karl rose to his feet, and glared at the Kleiner Friedl with\na glance of fury. \"I wager you every thing you and I have in the\nworld, that I'll make her dance every dance with me at the Jause\n[58] this very night!\" and he shook his fist with a confident air,\nfor he had a smooth tongue and a comely face, and Aennerl would not\nhave been the first girl these had won over.\n\n\"That you won't,\" said the Wirth, coming to Friedl's rescue, who was\nbut a young boy, and had felt rather dismayed at the proposed wager,\n\"for I'm not sure, till all this is cleared up, that I should admit her\nto the dance. But the difficulty will not arise, for Aennerl herself\ntold my daughter Moidl that now she could wear a lady's clothes it\nwould be impossible for her to come any more to the village dance.\"\n\nStrengthened by the support of the Wirth [59], the Kleiner Friedl\nfelt quite strong again; and he could not forbear exclaiming, \"There,\nI told you there was no chance for you, Wilder Karl!\"\n\nBut Wilder Karl, furious at the disappointing news of the Wirth,\nand maddened by the invective of the Kleiner Friedl, rushed at the\nboy head-over-heels, bent on mischief.\n\nBut Wilder Karl, though a bully and a braggart, inspired no respect,\nbecause no feather adorned his hat, and that showed he was no champion\nof any manly pursuit. So the whole room was on the side of Kleiner\nFriedl; and the bully having been turned out, and the subject of\nconversation pretty well exhausted, the Goigner J\u00f6ssl turned slowly\nhome.\n\nNow I don't say that he was right here. He was an excellent young\nman, endowed in an especial degree with Tirolese virtues. His parents\nhad never had a moment's uneasiness about him; no one in the whole\nvillage was more regular or devout at church; in the field none more\nhard-working or trustworthy; at the village games and dances none\nacquitted himself better; and had a note of danger to his country\nsounded in his time I am sure he would have been foremost to take\nhis place among its living ramparts, and that none would have borne\nout the old tradition of steadfastness more manfully than he.\n\nBut of course he had his faults too. And one of his faults was the\nfault of many good people,--the fault of expecting to find every one\nas good as themselves, of being harsh and unforgiving, of sulking\nand pining instead of having an open explanation.\n\nNow, mind you, I think it would have been much better if J\u00f6ssl had,\nafter hearing the conversation I have just narrated, gone straight on\nto Aennerl's, and had it all out with her, had heard from her own lips\nthe truth of the matter about which all Reith and Goign were talking,\nand judged her out of her own mouth, giving her, if he could not\napprove her conduct, advice by which she might mend it in the future.\n\nBut this was not his way. He had thought his Aennerl a model, almost\na divinity. He had always treated her as such, talked to her as such,\nloved her as such. It was clear now, however, that in some way or\nother she had done wrong. Instead of getting to the bottom of it, and\ntrying to set it straight, he gave himself up to his disappointment\nand went home and sulked, and refused to be comforted.\n\nAennerl, meantime, knew nothing of all this. She had had a great desire\nto be a lady and no longer a servant; and having plenty of money,\nand plenty of fine clothes, she thought this made her a lady, and had\nno idea but that every one acknowledged the fact. I don't think she\nexactly wished that all the village should be envious of her, but at\nall events she wished that she should enjoy all the prerogatives of\nladyhood, and this, she imagined, was one. Then she had no parents\nto teach her better, and J\u00f6ssl, who might have been her teacher,\nhad forsaken her.\n\nBut it was all too new and too exciting for her to feel any misgivings\nyet. She amused herself with turning over all her fine things, and\nfancied herself very happy.\n\nIn another day or two the Hof of good neighbour Bartl was put up for\nsale, and another visit to the Bergm\u00e4nnlein enabled her to become the\npurchaser. She thus became the most important proprietor in Reith;\nbut she was so little used to importance that she did not at all\nperceive that the people treated her very differently from the former\nproprietor of the Hof.\n\nBefore him every hat was doffed with alacritous esteem due to his\nage and worth. But poor Aennerl hardly received so much as the old\ngreeting, which in the days of companionship in poverty had always\nbeen the token of good fellowship with her, as with every one.\n\nIt was long before any suspicion that she was mistrusted reached the\nmind of Aennerl. In the meantime she enjoyed her new condition to\nthe full. Weekly visits to the R\u00f6hrerb\u00fcchel enabled her to purchase\nevery thing she desired; and when the villagers held back from her,\nshe ascribed their diffidence to the awe they felt for her wealth.\n\nIn time, however, the novelty began to wear off. She grew tired at\nlast of giving orders to her farm-servants, and watching her sleek\ncattle, and counting her stores of grain. That J\u00f6ssl had not been\nto see her, she never ascribed to any thing but his respect for her\naltered condition; and she felt that she could not demean herself by\nbeing united to a lad who worked for day-wages.\n\nStill grandeur began to tire, and her isolation made her proud,\nand angry, and cross; and then people shunned her still more, and\nupon that she grew more vexed and angry. But, worse than this, she\ngot even so used to her riches that she quite forgot all about the\nNickel to whom she owed them. Her farm was so well stocked that it\nproduced more than her wildest fancies required; she had no need to\ngo back to the R\u00f6hrerb\u00fcchel to ask for more gold, and she had grown\ntoo selfish to visit it out of compassion to the dwarf.\n\nThe Bergm\u00e4nnlein upon this grew disappointed; but his disappointment\nwas of a different kind from J\u00f6ssl's. He was not content to sit apart\nand sulk; he was determined to have his revenge.\n\nOne bleak October night, when the wind was rolling fiercely down\nfrom the mountains, there was a sudden and fearful cry of \"Fire!\" in\nthe village of Reith. The alarm-bells repeated the cry aloud and\nafar. The good people rose in haste, and ran into the lane with that\nready proffer of mutual help which distinguishes the mountain-folk.\n\nThe whole sky was illumined, the fierce wind rolled the flames and\nthe smoke hither and thither. It was Aennerl's Hof which was the\nscene of the devastation. The fire licked up the trees, and the farm,\nand the rooftree before their eyes. So swift and unnatural was the\nconflagration that the people were paralyzed in their endeavour to\nhelp. One ran for ladders, another for buckets; but before any help\ncould be obtained the whole homestead was but one vast bonfire. Then,\nmadly rushing to the top of the high pointed roof, might be seen the\nfigure of Aennerl clothed only in her white night-dress, and shrieking\nfearfully, \"Save me! save me!\" Every moment the roof threatened to fall\nin, and the agonized beholders watched her and sent up loud prayers,\nbut were powerless to save.\n\nSuddenly, on the road from Goign a figure was seen hasting along. It\nwas the Goigner J\u00f6ssl. Would he be in time? The crowd was silent now,\neven their prayers were said in silence, for every one gasped for\nbreath, and the voice failed. A trunk of an old branchless tree yet\nbent over the burning ruins. J\u00f6ssl had climbed that trunk and was\nmaking a ladder of his body by which to rescue Aennerl all frantic\nfrom the roof. Will he reach her? Will his arm be long enough? Will\nhe fall into the flame? Will he be overpowered by the smoke? See! he\nholds on bravely. The smoke rolls above his head, the flames dart\nout their fierce fangs beneath him! He holds on bravely still. He\ncalls to Aennerl. She is fascinated with terror, and hears him\nnot. \"Aennerl! Aennerl!\" once more, and his voice reached her, and\nwith it a sting of reproach for her scornful conduct drives her to\nhide her face from his in shame.\n\n\"Aennerl! Aennerl!\" yet once again; and he wakes her, as from a dream,\nto a life like that of the past the frenzy had obliterated. She forgets\nwhere she is; but the voice of J\u00f6ssl sounded to her as it sounded in\nthe years gone by, and she obeys it mechanically. She comes within\nreach--and he seizes her! But the flames are higher now, and the\nsmoke denser and more blinding. \"Jesus Maria! where are they? They\nhave fallen into the flames at last! Jesus, erbarme Dich ihrer [60]!\"\n\n\"Hoch! Hoch! Hoch [61]!\" shouts the crowd, a minute later. \"They\nare saved, Gott sei dank, they are saved!\" and a jubilant cry rings\nthrough the valley which the hills take up and echo far and wide.\n\nOn the edge of the crowd, apart, stands a little misshapen old man\nwith grey, matted hair and beard, whom no one knows, but who has\nwatched every phase of the catastrophe with thrilling emotion.\n\nIt was he who first raised the cry that they had fallen into the\nflames; and the people sickened as they heard it, for he spoke it in\njoy, and not in anguish. In the gladness of the deliverance they have\nforgotten the old man, but now he shouted once more, as he dashed his\nhood over his head in a tone of disappointed fury, \"I did it! and I\nwill have my revenge yet!\"\n\n\"No; let there be peace,\" said J\u00f6ssl, who had deposited Aennerl\nin safe hands, and now came forth to deal one more stroke for her;\n\"let there be peace, old man, and let bygones be bygones.\"\n\n\"Never!\" said the Cobbold; \"I have said I will have my revenge,\nand I will have it!\"\n\n\"But,\" argued J\u00f6ssl, \"have you not had your revenge? All you gave\nher you have had taken away--she is as she was before: can you not\nleave her so?\"\n\n\"No!\" thundered the dwarf; \"I will have the life of her before\nI've done.\"\n\n\"Never!\" in his turn shouted J\u00f6ssl; and he placed himself in front\nof the elf.\n\n\"Oh, don't be afraid,\" replied the dwarf, with a cold sneer, \"I'm not\ngoing after her. I've only to wait a bit, and she'll come after me.\"\n\nJ\u00f6ssl was inclined to let him go, but remembering the instability\nof woman, he thought it better to make an end of the tempter there\nand then.\n\n\"Will you promise me, that if I let you return to your hole in peace,\nyou will do her no harm should she visit you there again?\"\n\n\"I promise you that I will serve her to the most frightful of\ndeaths--that's what I promise you!\" retorted the enraged gnome.\n\n\"Then your blood be on your own head!\" said J\u00f6ssl, and, with his\nlarge hunting-knife drawn in his hand, he placed himself in a menacing\nattitude before the now alarmed dwarf.\n\nJ\u00f6ssl was a determined, powerful youth, not to be trifled with. The\ngnome trusted to the strength of his muscles, and fled with all\nhis speed; but J\u00f6ssl, who was a cunning runner too, maintained his\nplace close behind him. The dwarf, finding himself so hotly followed,\nbegan to lose his head, and no longer felt so clearly as at first the\ndirection he had to take to reach the R\u00f6hrerb\u00fcchel. J\u00f6ssl continued\nto drive him before him, puzzling him on the zigzags of the path\ntill he had completely lost the instinct of his way of safety. Then,\nforcing him on as before to the edge of the precipice, he closed upon\nhim where there was no escape.\n\nYes, one escape there was--it was in the floods of the Brandenburger\nAche, which roared and boiled away some hundred feet below! Rather\nthan fall ignominiously by the hand of a child of man, the gnome\ndashed himself, with a fierce shout, down the abyss. And that was\nthe last that was ever seen of the Nickel of the R\u00f6hrerb\u00fcchel.\n\nAennerl was now poorer than ever in this world's goods, but she was\nrich in one deep and wholesome lesson--that it is not glittering wealth\nwhich brings true happiness. The smiles of honest friends, and the\nlove of a true heart, and the testimony of an approving conscience are\nnot to be bartered away for all the gold in all the mines of the earth.\n\nWilder Karl laughed with his two or three boon companions, and said,\nwith a burst of contempt, \"I've no doubt that fool of a Goigner J\u00f6ssl\nwill marry the orphan Aennerl now that she hasn't a penny to bless\nherself with!\"\n\nAnd the Wilder Karl judged right. Aennerl scarcely dared hope that he\ncould love her still, and she went forth humbly to her work day by\nday, neither looking to the right hand nor the left, accepting all\nthe hardships and humiliations of her lot as a worthy punishment of\nher folly and vanity.\n\nBut one evening as she came home from her toil, the Goigner J\u00f6ssl\ncame behind her, and he said softly in her ear, \"Do you love me still,\nAennerl?\"\n\n\"Love you still, J\u00f6ssl!\" cried the girl; \"you have thrice given me\nlife--first when I was a poor, heartbroken orphan, and you made me\nfeel there was still some one to live for in the world; and then a\nsecond time, in that dreadful fire, when hell seemed to have risen\nup out of the earth to punish me before the time; and now again this\nthird time, when I began to think my folly had sickened you for good\nand all! Don't ask me that, J\u00f6ssl, for you must know I love you more\nthan my life! If I dared, there is one question I should ask you,\nCan you still love me? but I have no right to ask that.\"\n\n\"I must answer you in your own words, Aennerl,\" replied J\u00f6ssl:\n\"you must know that I love you more than my life!\"\n\n\"You must, you must--you have shown it!\" exclaimed Aennerl. They\nhad reached the bank near the R\u00f6hrerb\u00fcchel where we first saw them;\nthe rosy light of the sunset, and the scent of the wild flowers,\nwas around them just as on that night.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Aennerl, after a pause, as if it were just then that\nJ\u00f6ssl had said the words [62]--\"yes, J\u00f6ssl, this is happiness; we want\nnothing more in this world than the warm sun, and the blue sky--and\nto be together! Yes, J\u00f6ssl, we shall always be happy together.\"\n\nThey walked on together; as they reached the memorial of the dead\nminers the village bells rang the Ave. And as they knelt down,\nhow heartfelt was J\u00f6ssl's gratitude that the prayer he had uttered\nat that spot once before had been so mercifully answered, and his\nAennerl restored to him for ever!\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE WILDER J\u00c4GER AND THE BARONESS.\n\n\nThere was a rich and powerful baron who owned a broad patrimony\nin South Tirol, Baron di Valle. He was not only one of the richest\nand most powerful, he was also one of the happiest, for he had the\nprettiest and most sensible woman of Tirol for his bride. The brief\ndays were all too short for the pleasure they found in each other's\nsociety, and they were scarcely ever apart the whole day through.\n\nOnce, however, the Baron went on a hunting party through a part of\nthe country which was too rough for the Baroness to follow him. The\nday was splendid, the scent good, and the Baron full of enthusiasm\nfor his favourite sport; but what egged him on more than all these,\nwas the sight of a strange bold hunter who bestrode a gigantic mount,\nand who dashed through brake and briar, and over hill and rock,\nas if no obstacle could arrest him. Baron di Valle, who thought he\nwas the boldest hunter of the whole country-side, was quite mad to\nsee himself outdone; nor could he suffer this to be. Determined to\noutstrip his rival, he spurred his horse on, so that he might but\npass him somewhere; but the Wilder J\u00e4ger, for it was he, always kept\non ahead, and though the brave Baron kept close to his heels, he was\nnever able to pass him by.\n\nThey had long outstripped all the rest. But all this time the Baron\nhad taken no note of whither he went; now he found himself in the midst\nof a thick forest of tall fir-trees, with their lower branches cut off\nbecause they were planted so thick and close together that there was no\nroom between them, and their tops were intergrown so that they formed\none compact mass, excluding the very air and the light of day. The Wild\nHunter stopped his mad career before this barrier, and then, turning,\npretended for the first time to be aware of the Baron's presence.\n\n\"What do you want here?\" he exclaimed, fiercely, his rolling eyes\nglaring like fire. \"How dare you invade my domain!\" and with that he\nblew a mighty blast on his hunting-horn, at sound of which a whole\ntroop of wild huntsmen, habited like himself, and with similar fiery\neyes, appeared suddenly, surrounding the Baron.\n\n\"Stand back!\" cried the Baron, in a commanding tone, as the wild\nhuntsmen dismounted and prepared to seize him.\n\n\"No one commands here but I,\" said the Wilder J\u00e4ger. And then he added,\naddressing his men, \"Seize him, and carry him off!\"\n\n\"Hold!\" said the Count, but speaking more humbly than before, for he\nsaw he must yield something to the necessity of the case; \"I suppose\nthere is some ransom upon which you will let me off? I have wronged\nyou in nothing, and meant no offence. I admired your brave riding,\nand I thought what one brave man might do, another might.\"\n\n\"Since you take that tone,\" said the Wilder J\u00e4ger, \"I will do what\nI can for you. I will let you ransom yourself at one price. You must\nknow, that it is not you that I want at all; I only lured you here as\na means of getting hold of the Baroness, and had you been uppish and\nviolent, I should have kept you in chains for the rest of your life,\nwhile I married her. But as you know how to keep a civil tongue in\nyour head, I will show you that I can appreciate courtesy. So now\nI give you permission to return, to be yourself the bearer to your\nwife of my conditions.\n\n\"Tell her, then, that I have won her for my own, and she belongs\nirrevocably to me; it is useless that she attempt to escape, for you\nsee that my people are countless, and violence is of no avail against\nme. But I am a good sort of fellow, and as I love her, I don't want to\ndo any thing to alarm her, so long as she shows no foolish resistance.\"\n\n\"But the ransom? You spoke of a ransom just now,\" interposed the Baron,\nhastily; \"what, about that?\"\n\n\"All in good time,\" replied the Wilder J\u00e4ger--\"give a fellow time\nto speak. The only mode of ransom is this--let the Baroness guess\nmy name. I give her three guesses of three words each, and an\ninterval of a month. But if she doesn't succeed, remember, she is\nmine! this day month I appear and claim her. If, in the meantime,\nshe thinks she has made the guess, and wants to satisfy herself as to\nits correctness\"--and he laughed a ghastly laugh of scorn, as if to\nimpress the Baron with the hopelessness of the idea--\"she has only\nto come to the ilex grove on the border of this forest which marks\nthe frontier between your territory and mine. If she stands there,\nbeside the centre tree, and blows this horn--see what a pretty little\ngold horn it is, that I have had studded with diamonds and rubies--just\nfit for her pretty little fingers!\" he added, with a grin of scorn--\"at\nsound of her voice I shall be with her on the instant.\"\n\nThe Baron was not one to have tolerated such talk from any human\nbeing soever, but he felt the necessity of vanquishing his temper this\ntime--a more difficult matter ordinarily than vanquishing a foe--for a\ndearer life than his own was at stake; and if he could not altogether\nsave the Baroness from the power of the Wilder J\u00e4ger, he could take\ncounsel with her as to the means of finding out the hidden name,\nand at least spend with her the last days that he could call her his.\n\nAccordingly he took the horn, and stuck it in his belt without a\nword. And indeed no word would have availed him, for the whole troop\nof the wild huntsmen had vanished as it came, and he was left alone.\n\nThere was no difficulty in finding his way back by the path by which\nhe had come, for it was plainly marked by the havoc of the surrounding\nvegetation the wild chase had cost. And though he now put spurs to\nhis steed that he might reach home without losing an hour more than\nhe could help of the companionship of his beloved wife, he now for\nthe first time apprehended how swiftly he had come, for, riding the\nutmost of mortal speed, it took him three days to get back to the ilex\ngrove which marked the boundary of his own territory. Hence it was\nstill half a day's journey to reach his castle. But while he was yet\na great way off his loving wife came out to meet him, full of joy at\nhis approach, for since the rest of the hunt had come home without him\nshe had done nothing but watch from the highest turret of the castle,\nthat she might catch the first sight of him returning; her thirsty\neyes had not been slow to discern his figure as he hastened home.\n\nGreat was her amazement, however, to find that, instead of returning\nher greeting with his wonted delight, he turned his head away, as if\nhe dared not look at her, and wept. She rode beside him all the way\nhome, but he still kept silence, for he could not bear to render her\nsorrowful with the message of which he was the bearer. But he could\nconceal nothing from her loving solicitude, and soon he had told\nher all.\n\nBeing a woman of prudent counsel and strong trust in God, she was much\nless cast down, however, than he had expected. Though bewildered at\nfirst, and seeing no way out of the difficulty, she yet declared she\nwas sure some way of escape would be opened to her, it only remained\nto consider where they should find it. And never a word of angry\nrecrimination did she utter to remind him that it was his mad vanity\nhad brought them to this plight.\n\nThe Baron felt the full force of this forbearance, for he did\nnothing but reproach himself with his folly. But the fresh proof of\nher amiability only occasioned another pang at the thought of the\napproaching separation.\n\nStill no good counsel came to mind, and the Baroness herself began\nalmost to lose heart. The Baron had abandoned the hunt and all his\nsports, and sat gloomily in the ancient seat of his ancestors. The\nBaroness sat among the flowers of her oriel window, her embroidery\nin her hand; but her mind was far away over the tops of the dark\ngreen trees, looking for some bright thought to bring deliverance\nto her from above. Every morning and evening they knelt together in\nthe chapel of the castle, and prayed that a spirit of prudence and\ncounsel might be given them.\n\nTen days had passed, and no good thought had come. The Baron reclined\ngloomily in the ancient seat of his ancestors, and the lady sat\namong the flowers of the oriel window gazing over the tops of the\nhigh dark fir-trees, full of hope that some wise counsel would be\ngiven her. Suddenly she rose and clapped her hands, and her ringing\nlaugh brought the Baron bounding to her side.\n\n\"I have found it, Heinrich!\" she exclaimed; \"I am sure I have found\nthe name! Doesn't the Wilder J\u00e4ger live among the tall fir-trees?\"\n\n\"Yes; among the tall fir-trees is his dwelling.\"\n\n\"And didn't he speak of three names?\"\n\n\"Yes; he said your guess must include three names.\"\n\n\"Then I have it, Heinrich! What more natural than that he should be\ncalled from the names of the trees which form his palace? As I was\ngazing over the tops of the high dark trees the words came into my\nmind, 'Tree, Fir, Pine'--those will be the three words. Come, and let\nus go out to the ilex grove, and be free to belong to each other as\nof old!\"\n\nShe was so lively that the Baron caught some spark of her hopefulness,\nbut he was too far sunk in despondency to enter into her joy all\nat once. Nevertheless, it was not a moment when, if ever, he would\nhave thwarted her, so he ordered the horses to be saddled, for it was\nstill early morning. And they rode together to the ilex grove which\nwas the boundary of the Wilder J\u00e4ger's domain; the Baroness striving\nevery minute by some sprightly speech to distract the Baron, and the\nBaron utterly incapable of rousing himself from his gloomy fears.\n\nThe Baroness was the first to reach the grove; in fact, she had ridden\non a good way in advance, that she might have it out with the Wilder\nJ\u00e4ger before her husband came, so that she might greet him on his\narrival with the news that she was free.\n\nMerrily she sounded the jewelled horn, and before its sound had died\naway the Wilder J\u00e4ger was at her side. He no longer looked dusty,\nwild, and fierce, as during the Baron's mad chase. He seemed a man\nof noble presence, carefully dressed in a green hunting-suit, with a\npowerful bow in his hand, and a beautiful boy to hold his arrows. In\nhis belt was a jewelled hunting-knife of exquisite workmanship, and\nto a cord across his shoulder hung a golden horn of similar pattern\nto that he had sent the Baroness, and, moreover, as a further act of\ngallantry, he wore a scarf of red and white, the favourite colours\nof the Baroness. A jewelled cap shaded the sun from his brow, which\na red and white plume gracefully crested.\n\nThe Baroness looked astonished to find she had nothing more formidable\nto meet, and felt that had she not already been the wife of the\nBaron di Valle, she would not have found it so great a calamity to\nbe obliged to marry the Wilder J\u00e4ger.\n\nThe Wilder J\u00e4ger was not slow to perceive that the impression he\nhad produced was good, and bowing towards her with courtly mien,\npaid her a respectful salutation, and immediately added,--\n\n\"Your eyes are so clever, fair Baroness, that I very much fear you\nare going to pronounce my name, and rob me of the happiness I had so\nnearly bought! Spare me, therefore, lovely lady--say not the word! but\ncome with me into the shady pine-forest, where you shall have every\nthing heart can desire--the noblest palace, the widest domain, and\nunlimited command; retainers without number, pleasures without alloy,\nand every wish gratified without condition!\"\n\nHe approached her as he spoke. His eyes sparkled no longer with the\nangry fury which had thrilled the Baron, but with a mild fire of\ntenderness and devotion. Nothing more attractive and winning than his\nwhole appearance and manner could be conceived, and for a moment the\nBaroness had almost forgotten the less accomplished--but, oh! more\nsincere--passion of her Heinrich.\n\nIt was only for a moment. The weakness passed, she instantly drew\nherself up with dignity, and stepped back against the friendly ilex.\n\n\"It was not to hear such words I came,\" she said, \"but to pronounce\nthose which are to free me from ever having to listen to such\nprotestations again----\"\n\n\"Oh, say them not! say them not!\" said the Wilder J\u00e4ger, throwing\nhimself at her feet. \"Any thing but that! Name any wish by fulfilling\nwhich I can win your favour; name any difficult task by accomplishing\nwhich I can prove myself worthy of your love----\"\n\n\"My love,\" said the Baroness, striving to speak coldly, \"is another's\nalready; you see, there is none to be won from me. But interrupt me\nno more. I have guessed your name, to discover which was to be the\nprice of my freedom. It is----\"\n\nThe Wilder J\u00e4ger clasped her feet in despair, entreating her not\nto pronounce it, but she went on, with a clear, confident voice,\nto utter the words,--\n\n\"Tree! Fir! Pine!\"\n\nThe Wilder J\u00e4ger looked up as if he did not quite understand what\nshe meant.\n\n\"Now, let go your hold, and let me pass, for I am free!\" she said,\nresolutely.\n\n\"'Free,' say you?\" said the handsome Cobbold, with\nastonishment. \"Free? did you mean you thought that was my unknown\nname?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied the lady, in a voice of conviction.\n\n\"Oh, dear, it is nothing like it!\" he answered, with glee, and yet\nnot without a delicate regard for her disappointment. \"No, that is\nnot it; nor is it likely you should ever arrive at it. So days of\nhappiness are before us yet.\" He had no need to kneel to her longer,\nbut it was joy to him to be at her feet.\n\n\"Dare not to speak so before me!\" replied the Baroness, trying to\ntear herself away. \"I know of no happiness, except with Heinrich; and\nI am persuaded that, though I have failed this time, it will yet be\ngiven to me to find the word which shall restore me to him completely.\"\n\nThe Baron arrived as she finished speaking; and though he saw by the\nsorrowful look which now had possession of her bright face, and the\ntriumphant mien of the Cobbold, that she had failed, and that she was\nstill under the Wilder J\u00e4ger's spell, he was so incensed to find him\nin such an attitude that he drew his sword, and would have closed with\nhim then and there, but the Wilder J\u00e4ger blew one note upon his horn,\nand in an instant he was surrounded, as before, by his myrmidons,\nwho unarmed him and held him bound upon the ground, while the Cobbold\nhimself approached to seize the hand of the Baroness. A fiery fury\ntook possession of him, and sparks darted from his eyes which fell\nsmouldering among the twigs of fir. Powerless to defend his wife\nby force, the Baron once more mastered his anger, and reminded his\nadversary courteously of his promise to leave them at peace for the\ninterval of a month.\n\n\"I am always ready to answer you in whatever tone you elect to\nadopt,\" said the Wilder J\u00e4ger, rising, and leaving the side of the\nBaroness. \"You see, it is useless to attempt force against me; but when\nyou behave with due consideration, so will I.\" At a sign from him the\nsprites loosed the Baron's bonds, gave him back his sword, and held\nhis stirrup with the most respectful care, while he mounted his horse.\n\n\"Depart, then, unharmed,\" said the Wilder J\u00e4ger, \"since you set so\nmuch store on prolonging your suspense. I should say, it was wiser\nto make the best of a bad bargain and submit to your fate at once,\nwith grace. However, I have given my word and won't go back from it. I\nrestrain my power over you till the full end of the month; and, what\nis more, I not only give the lady three guesses, but as many as she\nlikes. For,\" he added, with a cynical leer, \"she is as little likely\nto guess it in thirty as in three; while every time that she chooses\nto essay the thing, it gives me the happiness of seeing her.\" And he\nturned away with a peal of wild laughter which made the lady shudder.\n\nThe sprites vanished as they had come; and the Baron and his wife\nrode sadly home, without the courage to exchange a word.\n\nIf the Baroness had for a moment been won by the comely presence\nand devoted admiration of the Wilder J\u00e4ger, she had now seen enough\nreason to fear his treacherous humour, and to dread her impending\nfate as much as at the first.\n\nThey spent the rest of the evening in prayers and tears in the chapel\nof the castle, and the next evening, and the next; and the days flowed\nby as before, but more sadly, and with even less of hope. The Baroness\nscarcely now dared raise her eyes so high as the tops of the tall\ndark trees; they fell abroad over the beautiful landscape stretched\nout beneath them, and the good gifts of God cropping up out of the\nground; and she thought how beautiful was that nature to which she\nmust so soon say adieu!\n\nThus ten days passed without a gleam of expectation. Suddenly she\nrose and clapped her hands; and her silvery laugh brought her husband\nbounding to her side.\n\n\"I have it this time, Heinrich!\" she said.\n\nAnd the Baron listened anxiously, but trusted himself never to speak.\n\n\"Said you not that the Wilder J\u00e4ger's domain was entirely among the\ntall dark trees?\"\n\n\"So it seemed to me it was,\" responded her husband.\n\n\"But I certainly discerned through the forest patches of ripe golden\ngrain. Saw you them not too?\"\n\n\"The first time I rode too fast to notice them, but I do think on\nthis last journey I saw such here and there by the wayside.\"\n\n\"No doubt,\" continued the lady, \"it is hence he takes his name;\nthese small patches of golden grain are more worth than all the\nvast forests. Order the horses, for I have guessed his name! It came\nto my mind just now, as I looked over the harvest-fields stretched\nout yonder.\n\n\"Wheat, Oats, Maize--that will be his name!\"\n\nThe Baron knew her counsel had often proved right when he least\nexpected, and even disputed it, and though he was now too desponding\nto expect success, he was likewise least inclined to dispute her\nword. So he ordered the horses round, for it was yet early morning,\nand they rode to the ilex grove.\n\nThe Baroness, whose hope seemed to rise as she got nearer the goal\nof the journey, was full of spirit and cheerfulness, and, finding it\nimpossible to work up the Baron to the same expectation as herself,\nrode on to accomplish her work ere he arrived.\n\nOne note of the jewelled horn brought the Wilder J\u00e4ger to her presence.\n\nAs she had failed before, he had less fear of her success this time,\nand he was proportionately less subservient and submissive.\n\n\"So you think you are come to give me my dismissal, beautiful\nBaroness? But you have no reason to repulse me so--be assured I mean\nit well with you; and though there is no limit to my power over you,\nI shall never treat you otherwise than with honour,\" he said, with a\nlittle scornful laugh which suited his fine features exactly, and made\nhim look handsomer than before. And as he spoke so, his haughty tone,\nnot unmixed with warmth and admiration, thrilled her with the notion\nthat, after all, if it were not for her troth plighted to the Baron,\nit would not be so very dreadful to owe obedience to one who knew\nhow to command so gracefully.\n\nBut it was only for a moment. The weakness passed, she drew herself\nup with dignity, and, retreating against the support of the friendly\nilex, said,--\n\n\"Silence! and remember your promise to leave me at peace till the\nfatal month is out. I cannot listen to you. And now for your name----\"\n\nThe Cobbold bowed, with a half-mocking, half-respectful inclination,\nas if forcing himself to listen out of courtesy, but secure that she\nwould not guess right.\n\n\"Wheat! Oats! Maize!\" said the Baroness, with a positive air.\n\nThe Cobbold stared comically, as if doubting whether she was in\nearnest; and at last, as if to relieve her out of politeness,\nhe replied,--\n\n\"Oh, dear no, that's not at all like it!\"\n\nThe Baroness hung her head in despair; then, drawing herself up again,\nshe said,--\n\n\"How do I know you are not deceiving me? You say this is not your name,\nand I have to believe you--but suppose I maintain that it is it?\"\n\n\"You are not fair, beautiful Baroness,\" replied the Wilder J\u00e4ger,\nwith a charming dignity. \"I have never deceived you, nor ever would\nI deceive so noble a lady! what I have promised, I have kept; but in\nthis case I have no means of deceiving you--great as is my power, that\nis one thing beyond it. Could a mortal, indeed, discover and pronounce\nmy name in my presence, I could not stand before him an instant. But\nthis it is not given to mortals to know, and that is why I proposed\nthis difficulty to you. Should I have paid you so bad a compliment,\"\nhe added, with his cynical laugh, \"as to render it possible that I\nshould lose so great a prize?\"\n\nThe Baron rode up while he was saying this, and shrank dumb with\ndespair at the cruel words and the positive tone in which they were\nuttered.\n\nWithout condescending to exchange a word with the Cobbold this time,\nhe lifted his wife on to her palfrey and rode away with her in silence.\n\nIt was now all over. His despondency even gained the Baroness, and she\nceased to rack her brain with the hope of finding the inconceivable\nname. Her eye not only dared not raise itself to the tall dark\ntrees--it had not even power to range over the landscape. With her\nhead sunk upon her breast, she sat silently among her flowers in her\noriel window, nor cared even to look at them. Only in the morning\nand the evening they knelt together in the chapel of the castle,\nand prayed that the calamity might pass away yet.\n\nThe days went by, and now the last but one had come; and the Baroness\ntrembled, for her imagination pictured the Cobbold coming to carry her\naway. But her courage did not forsake her even now, and she proposed\nto go out into the forest to meet her fate, as more noble than waiting\nfor it to overtake her.\n\nThe Baron, too dispirited to discuss any matter, and indifferent to\nevery thing, now that all he cared for was to be taken from him, gave\na listless consent. The next morning, having prayed and wept together\nin the castle chapel, they set out on their mournful pilgrimage,\nthe young wife led as a lamb to the sacrifice.\n\nThe flowers bloomed beneath their feet, and the sun shone warm\noverhead, the birds sang blithe and gay--all nature was bright and\nfresh; but with heavy hearts they passed through the midst, nor found\na thought but for their own great sorrow. As they came to the borders\nof the forest, however, the Baroness discerned the cry as of one in\ndistress. Forgetting for the moment her own agony, her compassionate\nheart was at once moved, and she begged her husband to turn aside\nwith her, and find out the poor wretch who pleaded so piteously. In\na little time they had followed up the sound, and they found one of\nthe Wilder J\u00e4ger's men tied in front of a lately lighted fire. In a\nfew minutes more the heaped-up wood would have been all in flames,\nand then the luckless wight must have been slowly roasted! At a word\nfrom the Baroness, the Baron cut his bonds; and then they inquired\nwhat was the occasion of his punishment. \"Oh, it don't want much to\nget a punishment out of the Wilder J\u00e4ger!\" was the answer.\n\n\"Is he so very severe, then?\" asked the Baroness, her cheek blanching\nwith fear.\n\n\"At times, yes; it depends how the fancy takes him--if he is out of\nhumour he spares no one. If he were not so violent and arbitrary,\nI would do you a good turn for that you have done me; but I dare not,\nhis anger is too fearful.\"\n\nThe more he descanted on the Wilder J\u00e4ger's barbarity, the more the\nBaroness prayed that he would tell her the word that would save her;\nbut he dared not, and all her instance was in vain. \"And yet there\nmight be a means,\" he said, for he was desirous of doing a service\nto his deliverers.\n\n\"Oh, speak! tell us what we can do--no matter what it is, we will do\nit!\" answered both at once.\n\n\"Well, if you happen to overhear it, I shan't have told you, and yet\nit will serve your turn just as well;\" and with that he walked on\nclose in front of them, singing carelessly as he went.\n\n\"How are we to 'overhear' it, Heinrich?\" said the Baroness, after\na bit.\n\n\"He seems to have forgotten us,\" replied the Baron, in despair. \"I have\nbeen expecting him every minute to turn round and give us a hint of\nhow he meant to help us; but it is just like every one you do a favour\nto--when they have got what they want, they forget all about you.\"\n\nThey walked on in silence; and the fellow kept on close in front of\nthem, singing as before, and always the same verse.\n\nAt last the Baroness got wearied with hearing the same thing over\nand over again, and she began repeating the words over to herself,\nmechanically. She could not make them out at all at first, for he\nhad a rough, abrupt articulation, but by dint of perseverance in an\noccupation which served as a distraction to her agony, she at last\nmade it out, word by word:--\n\n\n    \"The Wild Huntsman's betrothed (though he is not tamed)\n                      To a lady fair\n                      Driven to despair.\n          If she only knew he's Burzinigala named!\"\n\n\n\"'Burzinigala named!' exclaimed the Baroness, with the ringing laugh\nof former days, and clapping her hands merrily.\n\n\"I have it all right this time, you may depend, Heinrich!\" and she\nlaughed again.\n\nThe Baron was too delighted for words--he embraced his wife in his\njoy; and they walked on with a very different mien from what they\nwore before. The first joy over, they turned to thank their helper;\nbut he had already disappeared, climbing over the tops of the trees\nto get out of sight of the Wilder J\u00e4ger's eye for as long as might be.\n\nThere was no more lingering now, they hasted on, anxious only to\nproclaim their triumph.\n\nThe ilex grove was soon reached, and the jewelled horn quickly produced\nthe Wilder J\u00e4ger.\n\nTo-day he was habited with greater care even than on the former\noccasions, and there was also still more assurance in his manner,\nand still more forwardness to flatter.\n\n\"Well, lady fair,\" he said, with a mocking air, \"do you deem you have\nguessed my name this time?\"\n\n\"Really, it is so difficult,\" replied the lady, \"that how can you\nthink I can hope to succeed? Besides, why should I wish to do what\nwould deprive me of so charming a companion?\"\n\nThe Wilder J\u00e4ger in his turn was perturbed. Nothing could have made\nhim happier than to hear such words from her lips, could he have deemed\nthem sincere; but there was an irony in her tone and a playfulness in\nher countenance which showed that her heart was not in her words. Yet\nhe felt convinced she could not discover his name; and so he knew not\nwhat to think, and scarcely what to say. And the Baroness, delighting\nin his confusion, continued teasing him, like a cat with a mouse.\n\nAfter a good deal of this bantering, in which the Wilder J\u00e4ger got\nquite bewildered, the Baroness rose majestically.\n\n\"Have we not had enough talking?\" she said, with emphasis; \"when are\nyou going to take me home--Sir Burzinigala?\"\n\nIt would be impossible to describe the effect of this word. He rose\nfrom the earth with one bound. The beauty, the calmness, the commanding\nair, which had at one time charmed the Baroness, had all fled. Wild,\nsavage, and furious as he had first appeared and tenfold more, he now\nshowed; and the sparks flew from his eyes on all around. Through the\nthick tops of the trees he passed, they hardly knew how; and soon the\nonly trace of him left was that of the sparks that smouldered on the\ndry heath.\n\nIt only remained for the Baron and Baroness to return home, locked\nin each other's arms. And they continued loving each other more than\never before to the end of their days.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE GRAVE PRINCE AND THE BENEFICENT CAT.\n\n\nThere once was a king in Tirol who had three sons. The eldest was grave\nand thoughtful beyond his years; but he seldom spoke to any one, took\nno pleasure in pastimes, and lived apart from those of his age. The\nother two were clever and merry, always forward at any game, or at any\npiece of fun, and passed all their time in merry-making and enjoyment.\n\nNow though the eldest son was, by his character, more adapted to make\na wise and prudent sovereign, yet the two younger brothers, by their\nlively, engaging manner, had made themselves much more popular in\nthe country; they were also the favourites of their father, but the\neldest was the darling of his mother.\n\nThe king was old and stricken in years, and would gladly have given\nup the cares of government, and passed his declining years in peace,\nbut he could not make up his mind to which of the brothers he should\ndelegate his authority. The queen was persuaded of the excellent\ncapacity of her eldest son; but the two younger were always saying\nhe was half mad, and not fit to govern, and as they had the people\non their side, he greatly feared lest the kingdom should be involved\nin civil war, so he always put off making any arrangement.\n\nOne day, however, an ancient counsellor observed to him, that if he\nreally feared that there would be a dispute about the succession,\nit was much better to have it decided now while he was alive to act\nas umpire, than that it should befall when they would be left to\nwrangle with no one to make peace between them.\n\nThe king found the counsel good, and decided to retire from the\ngovernment, and to proclaim his eldest son king in his stead. When the\ntwo younger sons, however, heard what he intended to do, they came\nto him and urged their old charge, that their elder brother was not\nfit to govern, and entreated the king to halve the kingdom between\nthem. But the king, anxious as he was to gratify them, yet feared to\ndisplease the queen by committing so great an injustice against her\neldest son; and thus they were no further advanced than before.\n\nThen the old counsellor who had offered his advice before spoke again,\nand suggested that some task should be set for the three, and that\nwhoever succeeded in that should be king beyond dispute.\n\nThe three sons all swore to abide by this decision; and the king found\nthe counsel good. But now the difficulty arose, what should he set\nthem to do? for they had insisted so much on the weak intellect of\nthe eldest, that the queen feared lest, after all, he should fail in\nthe trial, and her care for him be defeated. She knew he had never\npractised himself in feats of strength, or in the pursuit of arms,\nso it was useless proposing such as these for the test, but she\npersuaded him to set them something much simpler.\n\nSo, having called an assembly of all the people, he proclaimed\naloud that the three brothers should travel for a year and a day,\nand whichever of them should bring him back the finest drinking-horn,\nhe should be the king--the three sons swearing to abide by his award.\n\nThe two younger brothers set out with a great retinue; and, as they\ndid not apprehend much difficulty in surpassing their brother in\nwhatever they might undertake, they spent the greater part of the year\nallowed them in amusing themselves, secure in bringing back the best,\nwhatever they might bring.\n\nThe eldest set out alone through the forest. In his lonely wanderings\nhe had often observed a strangely beautiful castle on a far-off\nmountain, concerning which he could find no record in any of his\nbooks, nor could he learn that any one living knew any thing about\nit. He now resolved to make his way thither, persuaded that if he was\nto find something surpassing the work of human hands, it was like to\nbe in this enchanted castle.\n\nThough it was so high-placed, the way was much easier than he thought,\nand he was not more than five months getting there; so that he had\nample time for exploring its precincts, and yet get back within the\nappointed date. He had, indeed, to traverse dark forests and steep\nrocky paths, but when he got near the castle all these difficulties\nceased. Here there were only easy slopes of greensward, diapered\nby sparkling flowers; broad-leaved trees throwing delicious shade;\nand rills that meandered with a pleasant music. Delicious bowers\nand arcades of foliage of sweet-scented plants invited to repose;\nand every where luscious fruits hung temptingly within reach. Birds\nsang on every branch with a soft, dreamy melody which soothed, and\ndisturbed not the lightest slumber.\n\nThe prince thought it would have been delightful to pass the remainder\nof his days there, but he remembered that it was an important mission\nwith which he was entrusted, and he passed on.\n\nA broad flight of marble steps led from these amenities up to the\npalace, and every now and then a thousand little jets were turned on,\nto pour their tiny floods over them, and cool them for the tread of\nthose who entered.\n\nAnd yet no one was near, no one to enjoy all this magnificence! The\nprince entered the hall, but no one came to meet him; he passed through\nthe long corridors--all were deserted; he entered one apartment after\nanother--still no one. At last he came to one charming boudoir all\nhung with pink satin, and lace, and beautiful flowers. On a pink\nsatin sofa covered with lace sat a large Cat with soft grey fur,\nand soft grey eyes--the first living thing he had met!\n\nAs he entered, the Cat rose to meet him, walking on her hind-paws,\nand, holding out her right front-paw in the most gracious manner,\nasked him, in a sweet, clear voice, if there was any thing she could\ndo for him. Then, as if the effort was too great, she let herself\ndown on all fours, and rubbed her soft grey head against his boots.\n\nFinding her so friendly, he was going to take her up in his arms:\nthis she would not allow, however, but sprang with an agile bound on\nto a ledge above his head. \"And now tell me,\" said she, \"what is it\nyou want me to do for you?\"\n\n\"Really, Lady Purrer, you are so kind, you confuse me! But, to tell\nyou the truth, I fear--\"\n\n\"You fear that a poor puss can't be of any use,\" interposed the\nCat, smartly, \"and that your requirements are much above her feeble\ncomprehension. But never mind, tell me all the same; there is little\nfear but that I can help you, and if I can't, the telling me will do\nyou no harm.\"\n\n\"Quite the contrary,\" replied the prince, \"it will be a great pleasure\nto have only your sympathy, for I am in great distress.\" Her voice\nwas so sweet and kind, that he quite forgot it was only a Cat he was\ntalking to.\n\n\"Poor prince!\" said the Cat, soothingly; \"tell me all about it,\nthen. But stop, I'll tell you first what I think. I'm sure you are not\nappreciated at home. I saw it in your look when you first came in. You\ndon't look bright and enterprising, as you ought to look. You look\nas if you lived too much alone. Oh, you would be twice as handsome\nif you only looked a little more lively and energetic--\" and then\nshe stopped short, and sneezed a great many times, as if she feared\nshe had said what was not quite proper, and some other sound would\nefface that of her words.\n\n\"There is a great deal of truth in what you say,\" replied the prince;\n\"they don't care much about me at home--at least my mother does,\nbut my father and brothers don't. And I do live too much alone--but\nit's not my fault: it's a bad way of mine, and I don't know how to\nget out of it.\"\n\n\"You want some one to pet you, and spoil you, and make you very happy;\nand then you would be pleased to go into the society of others, because\nthen you could say to yourself, I'll show them that there's some one\nunderstands me and makes a fuss about me--\" and she stopped short,\nas before.\n\n\"But who should care to spoil and pet me?\" cried the prince,\ndespondingly, and too much interested in her words to see any reason\nwhy she should be confused at what she had said.\n\n\"Why, a nice little wife, to be sure!\" replied the Cat.\n\n\"A wife!\" exclaimed the prince; \"oh yes, my father's grey-bearded\ncounsellors will find me some damsel whom it is necessary I should\nmarry for the peace of the kingdom; and to her I shall be tied, and,\nbe she an idiot or a shrew, I shall have no voice in the matter.\"\n\n\"But do you mean to say,\" retorted the Cat, in a more excited voice,\n\"that if you found a nice little princess--I don't say any one they\ncould with justice object to, but a real princess--who cared very\nmuch for you, and made you very happy, very happy indeed, so that you\ndetermined to marry her, that you wouldn't be man enough to say to your\nfather and all his counsellors, 'Here is the princess I mean to make\nmy wife; I feel Heaven intended her for me. I am sure she will be the\njoy of my people, as she is mine, and no other shall share my throne'?\"\n\n\"Wouldn't I,\" exclaimed the prince, with energy, starting to his feet,\nand placing his hand instinctively on his sword, his eye flashing\nand the colour mounting in his cheek.\n\n\"Ah! if you always looked like that! Now, you are handsome\nindeed!\" exclaimed the Cat, enthusiastically, and purred away. \"But,\"\nshe added, immediately after, \"all this time you haven't told me what\nit was you came for.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said the prince, despondingly, at finding himself thus recalled\nto the prosaic realities of his melancholy life from that brief\ndream of happiness. \"No; because you have been talking to me of more\ninteresting things\" (the Cat purred audibly); and then he told her\nwhat it was had really brought him there.\n\n\"You see, your mother understands your character better than all\nthe rest,\" said the Cat. \"She knew you could be trusted to prove\nyour superiority over your brothers, though the others hope you\nmay fail. However, fail you won't this time, for I can give you a\ndrinking-horn which neither your brothers nor any one else on earth\ncan match!\"\n\nWith that she sprang lightly on to the soft carpet, and ran out of\nthe room, beckoning to him to follow her. She led him through a long\nsuite of rooms till they came to a large dining-hall all panelled\nwith oak and filled with dark carved-oak furniture. In the centre of\none end of this hall, high up in the panelling, was an inlaid safe or\ntabernacle curiously wrought. Puss gave one of her agile springs on to\nthe top of this cabinet, and, having opened its folding-doors gently\nwith her paw, disclosed to view a drinking-horn such as the prince had\nnever seen. It was a white semi-transparent horn, but close-grained,\nlike ivory, and all finely carved with designs of curious invention;\nthe dresses of the figures were all made of precious stones cunningly\nlet in, and they sparkled with a vivid lustre, like so many lamps. Then\nit had a rim, stand, and handle of massive gold exquisitely chased,\nand adorned with rows of pearls and diamonds.\n\n\"Kind Lady Purrer,\" exclaimed the prince, \"you are right, there is\nno doubt of my success! But how can I ever sufficiently thank you\nfor what you have done for me? for I owe all to you.\"\n\n\"And a little to your own discernment too,\" said the Cat, archly. \"And\nnow, always look as much alive and as bright as you do now, and you\nwill see people will think better of you.\"\n\n\"But when shall I see you again, most sweet counsellor? May I come\nback and see you again?\" pleaded the prince, and he tried to stroke\nher sleek fur as she rubbed her soft grey head, purring, against\nhis boots. The stroking, however, she would by no means allow, but\nspringing again on to the top of the cabinet, she said,--\n\n\"Oh, yes; it will not be long before you will have to come back to me,\nI know. But go, now; you have spent more time here than you think,\nand you have only just enough left to get back within the year.\"\n\nThe prince turned to obey her; and the Cat jumped down, and ran by his\nside, purring. When he got out into the grounds again, she followed\nhim, climbing from tree to tree; and when he came to the boundary-wall\nshe ran all along on the coping. But here at last they had to part,\nto her great regret, and for many a lonely mile he still heard her\nlow and plaintive mew.\n\nIt was true, he must have spent more time in her pleasant company than\nhe had thought, for when he reached home he found the day of trial\nhad arrived; the streets were deserted, and all the people gathered\nin the palace to see the drinking-horns his brothers had brought,\nand talking loudly of their magnificence. He passed through their\nmidst without being recognized, for the people knew him so little;\nand thus he heard them speak of his younger brothers:--\n\n\"What bright faces they have! and what a merry laugh! it does the\nheart good to hear them,\" said one.\n\n\"I wonder how the kingdom will be divided, and which half will be to\nwhich of them,\" said another.\n\n\"For my part, I don't care to the lot of which I fall, for both are\nexcellent good fellows,\" replied a third.\n\nAnd thus they had clearly settled in their own mind that his brothers\nhad carried the day, and they didn't even trouble themselves to\nthink what he would bring, or whether he would come back at all. It\nwas the same thing all the way along. The words were varied, but the\nsame idea prevailed every where, that the younger brothers had made\ngood their claim; there was no question at all of the eldest. The\nprince's face was growing moody again; but just then one good woman,\nwiping the soap-suds from her hands as she turned from her washing at\nthe river to join the throng, exclaimed, as she heard some neighbours\ntalking thus, \"Hoity toity! it's all very well with you and your\nlaughing princes--a grave one for me, say I! Laughing may lead a man\nto throw away his money, but it won't teach him to feed the poor,\nor govern a kingdom. Wait till the Grave Prince comes back! I'll\nwarrant he'll bring the bravest drinking-horn!\"\n\nA chorus of mocking laughter greeted her defence of him.\n\n\"He bring the bravest drinking-horn!\" said one.\n\n\"Don't believe he knows what a drinking-horn is for--or drink\neither!\" said another.\n\n\"No; his brothers understand that best, at all events. I like a man\nwho can drink his glass.\"\n\n\"And I like one who doesn't drink it, whether he can or not; but\nkeeps his head clear for his business,\" said the good wife who had\ndefended him before.\n\nAnd as there were a good many who were too fond of the bottle in the\ncrowd, the laugh raised at him was turned against them.\n\nHe had one defender, then, in all that mass of people, but all the\nrest judged him incapable, and without trial! He was too disheartened,\nto make his way into the great hall where the success of his brothers\nwas being proclaimed, but instead trod sadly and secretly up to his\nmother's chamber.\n\nThe queen was too distressed at the absence of her favourite son to\ntake part in the jocular scene below, and was seated, full of anxiety,\nat her window, watching.\n\n\"What do you here, my son?\" she exclaimed, when he entered; \"you have\nbut one short half-hour more, and the time will be expired. The sun is\nalready gone down, and the time once past, whatever you have brought,\nit will avail you not! Haste, my son, to the council-hall!\"\n\n\"It is useless, mother; all are against me!\" cried the prince; and\nhe laid the beautiful flagon on the table, and sank upon a chair.\n\nIn the mean time it had grown dark, but the queen, impelled by her\ncuriosity to know what success her son had had, pulled off the wrapper\nthat enclosed the drinking-horn, and instantly the apartment was\nbrilliantly lighted by the light of the precious stones with which\nit was studded!\n\n\"My son, this is a priceless work! This is worth a kingdom! Nothing\nyour brothers can have brought can compare with this--haste, then,\nmy son!\" and she led him along.\n\nIt was dark in the council-hall too; but when the queen had dragged\nher son up to the throne where the king sat, she uncovered the flagon,\nand the sparkling stones sent their radiance into every part.\n\nThen there was one shout of praise. The drinking-horns of the younger\nbrothers, which had anon been so highly extolled, were no more thought\nof, and every one owned that the Grave Prince had won the trial.\n\nThe king declared it was too late for any more business that night,\nthe proclamation of the new sovereign would be made the next morning;\nand in the meantime they all retired to rest, the Grave Prince with\nsome new sensations of satisfaction and hope, and the queen assured\nof the triumph of her son.\n\nBut in the silent night, when all were wrapt in slumber, and the king\ncould not sleep for the anxiety and perplexity which beset him as to\nhis successor, the two young brothers came to him and complained that\nthey had been circumvented. The Grave Prince had always shown himself\nso gloomy and unenergetic, it was impossible they could conceive he\nwas going to distinguish himself, so they had taken no trouble to\nbeat him; but if their father would but allow another trial, they\nwould undertake he should not have the advantage of them again.\n\nSo the next day, instead of proclaiming the new sovereign, the king\nannounced that he had determined there should be a fresh trial\nof skill; and whichever of the princes should bring him the best\nhunting-whip, that day year, should have the crown.\n\nThe princes set off next day on their travels once more, the eldest\nson of course directing his towards the castle of the Beneficent Cat.\n\nThis time he had not to traverse a file of deserted halls before\nmeeting her; she sat looking out for him on the coping of the wall\nwhere he had left her mewing so piteously when he last parted from her.\n\n\"I told you it would not be long before you would have to come back\nto me,\" she said, as he approached. \"What can I do for you this time?\"\n\n\"My brothers are discontented at being beaten with your beautiful\nbeaker,\" replied the prince, gallantly, \"and they have demanded another\ntrial: this time my father sends us in quest of a hunting-whip.\"\n\n\"A hunting-whip?\" echoed the Cat; \"that is lucky, for I can suit you\nwith one neither they nor any one else on this earth can surpass!\" and\nshe frisked merrily along the path before him till they came to the\nstables; then she took him into a room where all manner of saddles,\nand horse-gear, and hunting-horns were stored. But on a high ledge,\nat the very top of the room, was a dusty hunting-whip of the most\nunpretending appearance. With one of her bold springs she reached\nthe ledge, and jumped down again with this whip in her mouth.\n\n\"It is not much to look at, I own,\" she said, as she observed the\nperplexed look with which the prince surveyed the present; \"but\nits excellent qualities are its recommendation. You have but to\ncrack this whip, and your horse will take any thing you put him at,\nbe it a river half a mile wide, or a tree fifty feet high. There\nare plenty of horses in the stable, saddle any of them you like,\nand make experience of it for yourself.\"\n\nThe prince did as she bid him; and at sound of the enchanted whip\nhis mount leapt with equal ease over hills and valleys.\n\n\"This is a whip indeed!\" exclaimed the prince, his face flushed with\nthe unwonted exercise, and his heart beating high at the idea of\nbeing the bearer of such a prize.\n\n\"Ah, that's how I like to see you!\" said the friendly puss; \"I like\nto see you like that. Now you are handsome indeed!\" and she scampered\naway, as if coyly ashamed of what she had said.\n\nIt was not long before she returned; and then she invited the prince\ninto the next room, where an elegant dinner was laid out, of which\nthe Cat did the honours very demurely. A high divan was arranged\nat the top of the table, on which she reclined, and ate and lapped\nalternately out of the plates ready before her, while invisible\nattendants served the viands and filled the glasses.\n\nWhen they had finished their meal, they went out to repose in the\nflowery bowers; and when the heat of the day was past, the Beneficent\nCat reminded her guest that he must be thinking of going home, if he\nwould not that his brothers should supplant him.\n\n\"Must I go so soon, sweet Lady Purrer?\" replied the prince. \"I know\nnot how to part from you; it seems I should be happy if I were always\nwith you. I have never felt so happy any where before!\"\n\n\"You are very gallant, prince,\" responded the Cat, \"and you have no\nidea how well it becomes you to look as you do now; but the affairs\nof your kingdom must be your first thought. You must first secure\nyour succession--and then we must look out for the nice little wife\nwe talked of last time.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" sighed the Grave Prince, \"don't talk of that--that is not\nfor me! No one beautiful enough for me to care about will ever care\nfor me!\"\n\n\"Not if you look desponding and gloomy, like that,\" replied the\nCat. \"Do you know, you look quite like another being when you look\nso gloomy; and yet you can be so handsome when you look bright and\nhopeful! But now,\" she proceeded, laying her soft paw on his arm\nto arrest the futile justification which rose to his lips, \"before\nyou go, I have something very important to tell you. You will now go\nback, and with the hunting-whip I have given you, you are safe to win\nthe trial which is to establish your right to the kingdom. But there\nwill be yet another trial exacted of you, and you will have to come\nback again to me. What you are to do then, I must tell you now, for\nit requires great prudence and courage, and one principal thing is,\nthat you don't say a word to me all the time. Can you promise that?\"\n\n\"Well, that is hard indeed,\" said the prince; \"but still, if you\ncommand it, I think I can promise to obey, for the sake of pleasing\nyou.\"\n\n\"Then the next thing is harder. Do you think you can do whatever\nI command?\"\n\n\"Oh yes, I am sure I can promise that!\" replied the prince, warmly.\n\n\"Mind, whatever I command, then--however hard, or however dreadful\nit may be?\"\n\n\"Yes, any thing--however hard, or however dreadful!\"\n\n\"But will you swear it?\"\n\n\"I see you doubt my courage,\" said the prince, half offended. \"You\ntake me for a fool, like the rest. But no wonder; I know I look like\na fool!\"\n\n\"Now don't look gloomy again! you were so handsome just now when\nyou said so firmly you would do 'any thing.' Will you gratify me\nby swearing?\"\n\n\"You doubt my courage.\"\n\n\"No; I don't doubt your courage. But I know how terrible a thing I\nhave to command you; and I know how many others have failed before\nyou. Now will you not swear, but to please me?\"\n\n\"Yes; I swear,\" said the prince, energetically, \"to do whatever it\nmay be that you tell me to do.\"\n\n\"Now, remember, you have undertaken it solemnly. This is what you\nmust do. When you come in, you will find me sitting on the kitchen\nstove; you must then seize me by my two hind-paws, and dash me upon\nthe hearthstone till there is nothing left of me in your hands,\nbut the fur!\"\n\n\"Oh dear! I can never do that!\" exclaimed the prince, in great\nembarrassment.\n\n\"But you have sworn to do whatever I told you!\" replied the Cat.\n\n\"Well, but I thought you were going to order me to do something\nrational, something noble and manly, requiring courage and\nstrength--not a horrible act like this.\"\n\n\"If it is the thing that has to be done, it does not matter what it\nis. Besides, it does require courage, great courage; and that is why\nI would not tell you first what it was, because others have failed\nwhen they knew what it was.\"\n\n\"And you expect me to have less feeling and affection for you than\nthey?\"\n\n\"No; but I expect more sense and judgment of you. I expect you to\nunderstand and believe that if I say it has to be done, it is really\nfor the best, and that you will trust to me that it is right. And I\nexpect that you will respect your promise, which was made without\nlimit or exception. But now, go; you have no time to lose, if you\nwant to reach home with the hunting-whip in time for the trial.\"\n\nHe rose to leave; and she followed him down the path, purring by\nhis side. And after she had taken leave of him at the boundary-wall,\nhe heard her mewing sad adieus as he went on for many a weary mile.\n\nWhen the prince reached the council-hall, he found, as before,\nthat his brothers were there first, and that every one seemed to\nhave decided that they had won the day--in fact no one showed any\ncuriosity to know what he would bring. As he had beaten them by his\nlustrous jewels before, they had fancied he would bring something of\nthe same sort again; so, to conquer him on his own ground, they had\nsought out and found two handles of hunting-whips mounted with jewels\nas sparkling as those of his drinking-horn. When they saw him come\nin with the shabby old whip the Beneficent Cat had given him, they\nlaughed outright in his face; and the king, in a fit of indignation,\nordered him to leave the hall for venturing to insult him by bringing\nsuch a present. Some laughed him to scorn, and some abused him; but no\none would listen to a word he had to say. At last the tumult was so\ngreat that it reached the queen's ears; and when she had learnt what\nwas the matter, she insisted that he should have a hearing allowed\nhim. When silence had been proclaimed the Grave Prince said,--\n\n\"It is true, my whip is not so splendid as that of my brothers, but\njewels are out of place on a hunting-whip, it seems to me; the handle\nis wanted to be smooth, so that the hand may take a firm grip of it,\nrather than to be covered with those points and unevennesses. The\nmerit of my whip is not in the handle, it is in the lash, which has\nsuch excellent qualities, that you have but to crack it, and your\nhorse will immediately take you over any obstruction there may be in\nyour way--be it a house or a mountain, or what you will. If you will\nallow me, I will give you proof of its powers.\"\n\nThen they all adjourned to the terrace in front of the council-hall,\nwhere was a fine avenue of lofty cypresses; and the queen ordered\na horse to be brought round from the stables. The people had never\nseen the prince on horseback before; and when they saw him looking so\ngallant, and noble, and determined, they could not forbear cheering\nhim, till his younger brothers began to fear that his real worth\nwould soon be found out, and their malice exposed.\n\nThen the prince cracked his whip--and away went the horse over the tops\nof the high trees, seeming to scrape the clouds as he passed. All\nthe people were lost in admiration, no one had ever seen such a\nsight before; and while they were wondering whether it was possible\nhe could have reached the ground in safety from such a height, there\nwas a murmur in the air, and they saw him coming back again over the\ntree-tops. With no more apparent effort than if he had merely taken\na hedge, he came softly to the ground; and then, kneeling gracefully\nbefore his father on one knee, without a word of boasting or reproach,\nhe laid the clever whip at his feet.\n\nThe king raised him up, and said, aloud to the people, none could deny\nthat it was this whip that had won the trial, but that as it was now\nlate, he must leave the ceremony of proclaiming his successor till\nthe morrow.\n\nAll went home for the night, and the old king also went to bed; but he\ncould not sleep for anxiety, thinking of the anger and dissatisfaction\nof his younger sons. And presently, in the silent hour, they came\nto him, and said that he must allow them another trial; that it\nwas impossible they could conceive he meant them to bring him a\nfantastical whip of that sort, or of course they would have brought\none which could do much better things. They thought it was the beauty\nof the workmanship they had to look to, and so they had provided for\nnothing else. They urged their suit so persistently, that the king,\nwho was now very old and weak, agreed to let them have their way.\n\nAccordingly, next morning he had it proclaimed that the three princes\nwere to make one trial more; and that whichever brought back the most\nbeautiful and virtuous princess for his wife should have the crown.\n\nThe three princes set out again early the next morning; the two younger\nones providing themselves with jewels and riches, and many precious\nthings for presents; the eldest taking nothing, but walking off alone\ntowards the enchanted castle with a heavy heart. \"It is all up with\nme now,\" he said to himself, \"after all! Why couldn't my father have\nbeen satisfied when I had beaten them twice? Now I have to kill the\nBeneficent Cat--the only being that ever assisted me; and then I shall\nhave no one to help me at all! They will come back with two beautiful\nprincesses, and I shall come back looking like a fool, because no\nprincess will ever come with me--and they will take my kingdom, and\nlaugh at me into the bargain! If it was not for my mother, I would\nnever come back at all; but it would break her heart if I stayed away,\nand she is the only one of them who understands me and cares for me.\"\n\nAs he got nearer the castle, he grew more and more sad. \"Why did she\nmake me swear? If it hadn't been for that, I could still have escaped\ndoing it; but now I cannot break my oath;\" and he trudged on.\n\nThe gardens looked more lovely than ever. The scent of the flowers\nseemed sweeter, and the melody of the birds more soothing. All was\nfull of harmony--and he who had never harmed a fly must cruelly use\nthe soft and beautiful Cat who had so befriended him!\n\nHe passed through the apartments where puss had purred round him so\nhappily--the dining-room where they had had their pleasant repast\ntogether--the boudoir where she had given him such wise counsel.\n\nAt last he came to the kitchen; and there, sure enough, was the Cat\ncosily curled round, her soft grey head buried in her long grey fur.\n\nAn energy and daring he had never known before seemed suddenly to\npossess him. He took care not to speak, for she had particularly\nrecommended silence; but, approaching her on tiptoe, seized her rapidly\nby her hind-paws before she had time to wake from her pleasant slumber,\nand dashed her several times upon the hearth, scarcely knowing what\nhe did in his horror, till he perceived that he had nothing left in\nhis hand but the soft, limp, grey fur.\n\nHe sank upon the ground in tears, and commenced laying it out tenderly\nbefore him, when he was woken from his reverie by a mellow ringing\nlaugh, which made him look up--and there before him stood the most\nbeautiful, fairy-like princess that ever was seen on this earth!\n\n\"Well done, kind prince! you have nobly kept your word. And see what\nI have gained thereby--instead of that grey fur, I now have a form\nwhich will perhaps make me meet to fulfil the condition your father\nhas imposed on you for obtaining your throne!\"\n\nHer voice, and the glance of her soft eyes, seemed quite familiar\nto him--it was the voice which had first inspired him with hope and\nenterprise, and the mild light which had beamed on him when he said he\ncould be happy to be always near her in her bower. How much more now,\nwhen she appeared in such matchless guise!\n\nHe remained kneeling at her feet, and asked her if it was indeed true\nthat she could love him and be with him always as his wife.\n\n\"Nay,\" she replied, raising him up; \"it is I who ought to be\nastonished. I have nothing to refuse, for I owe you all; and as,\nbut for you, I should still be nothing but a poor grey Cat, I belong\nto you, and am absolutely yours. It is I who have to be astonished,\nand to ask you if it is possible you who have known me as a Cat can\nreally love me and regard me as worthy to be indeed your wife.\"\n\n\"You are mocking me again, I see,\" he replied; \"but you do not\nreally think me so insensible as not to appreciate your beauty,\nand the prudence and generosity of which you have given me such\nabundant proof? No; if you will come with me, I have no fear but that\nI shall win the trial this time beyond all possibility of demanding\nanother.\" He spoke warmly, and his face beamed with joy. The princess\nwas leaning on his arm, and looked up in his face as he spoke.\n\n\"Ah, now you do look!--No, I suppose I mustn't say it now I have\nno longer my cat-disguise to hide my blushes,\" she said, archly;\nand they passed on into the reception-hall.\n\nThe attendants were no longer invisible. Together with their mistress\nthey had received their forms and original life; and the corridors\nand apartments were filled with her people bustling to serve her. A\nbanquet was prepared in the dining-hall; and when they had partaken\nof it, and had regaled themselves in the bower with happy talk, the\nprincess reminded the prince--now no longer grave--that it was time\nfor them to be going back to his father. A great train of carriages\nand horses were brought round, with mounted guards and running-footmen,\nand all the retinue which became a noble princess.\n\nThe princess was carried in a litter by six men in embroidered\nliveries, and her ladies with her; and the prince rode on horseback,\nclose by her side.\n\nThis time, though it was near the close of the last day, his brothers\nhad not appeared when he reached the council-hall. The king and the\nqueen received the Beneficent Princess with smiles and admiration,\nand all the people praised her beauty; and the queen said,--\n\n\"There is no fear, my son, that your brothers can demand another\ntrial this time.\"\n\nBefore she had done speaking, a messenger was hastily ushered into\nthe hall, covered with dust and stains of travel. He came from the\ntwo younger princes, and had a sorrowful tale to tell.\n\nThey had striven to obtain the hands of the princesses of the\nneighbouring kingdom; but the king was a prudent sovereign, and\ndiscerned their envious, selfish character. When they found he repulsed\ntheir advances, they had endeavoured to carry off the princesses by\nforce; but the king had surprised them in the midst of their design,\nand had had them shut up as midnight robbers.\n\nThe old king was in great distress when he heard the news, for\nhis sons had manifestly been taken in the midst of wrong-doing,\nand he could not defend their acts nor avenge their shame. But the\neldest son took on himself the mission of pacifying the neighbouring\nsovereign and delivering his brothers. Having accomplished which, they\nwere fain to acknowledge that he was not only victor in the trials,\nbut their deliverer also; and they swore to maintain peace with him,\nand obey him as his faithful subjects.\n\nSo the old king proclaimed the Grave Prince for his successor, and\nmarried him to the Beneficent Princess, amid great rejoicing of all\nthe people; and the queen had the happiness of seeing her eldest son\nacknowledged as the most prudent prince, and the ruler of the people,\nand gifted with a beautiful and devoted wife.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nKLEIN-ELSE.\n\n\nThe Passeier-Thal, which at the beginning of the present century\nsent Hofer and his famous band of peasant heroes to the defence of\nthe fatherland, was in ancient times often involved in the wrangles\nbetween its rulers and those of Bavaria. The men of the Passeier-Thal\nwere no less heroes then than now, but there were heroes in Bavaria\ntoo, so that the success was as often on one side as the other.\n\nKlein-Else [63] was the daughter of a bold baron whose castle was,\nso to speak, one of the outposts of the valley; and as he had thus\nmore often than others to bear the brunt of the feud, his strength\nbecame gradually diminished, and it was only by leaguing himself with\nhis neighbours that he was enabled to repel the frequent inroads of a\nturbulent knight who had established himself on the other side of the\nold frontier, but who cultivated a strong passion for annexation. The\nPasseier-Thal baron did his best to strengthen his defences and\nkeep up a watchful look-out; and the moment his scouts perceived\nthe enemy advancing, their orders were not only to bring word of the\ndanger to their master, but to hasten at once to the other castles\nof the surrounding heights, and summon their owners to his support;\nand then the whole valley immediately bristled with valiant defenders\nof their country.\n\nBut inasmuch as his adversary was reckless and determined, and much\nbetter provided with men and means, he succeeded in laying his plans\nso well at last, that he eluded all the vigilance of the baron's\nscattered handful of look-out men, and, bursting in upon his domain\nby surprise, carried all his defences, laid waste every thing before\nhim, and marched upon the castle itself.\n\nThe bold baron swore he would not remain to be killed like a reptile\nin its hole, but sallied out with the few retainers who remained to\nhim, to sell his life and his possessions as dearly as he might. With\ndesperate courage he dealt the deadliest blows around which had\nbeen paid out that day. But it was all in vain. Overcome by superior\nnumbers, he was brought back but a few hours later in piteous plight,\nmortally wounded.\n\nKlein-Else bent over her father with despairing cries; and her tears\nfell as fast as the blood from the deep wounds she tried in vain\nto staunch.\n\n\"Leave the bandage, Klein-Else, it boots not,\" said the baron,\nin tones so slow and faint that she could only catch his words by\nputting her ear to his lips; and, as she did so, his cold breath\nfilled her with horror.\n\n\"It boots not to staunch the blood, Klein-Else; my life is spent. But\nas you have ever obeyed me, listen now to my word. The enemy is at\nthe door; you have but time to escape falling into his hands. Take\nthis key--it opens a gate of which no one knows the secret. Count\nthe tenth buttress in the wall, and where the ivy grows thickest,\nthere, behind it, feel for the lock and open it. Then creep beneath;\nand, once on the other side, replace the branches, that no one may\nsee they have been disturbed. You will see before you three paths:\none leads down into the smiling plain, where you might think to\nfind refuge in the houses of our people; but another destiny is for\nyou. The second leads upwards to the thick pine forest, where you\nmight think to lie concealed till our friends have time to come and\nrout out this vile usurper; but another destiny is for you. Take the\npath straight before you, that winds round the mountain; though it\nis open and exposed to view, fear not, for it leads to--to----\"\n\nAnd here his voice failed, so that she could no more make out what\nhe said; and though he continued to exert himself to complete his\ndirections, it was vain that she attempted to distinguish them. His\npower of articulation was gone.\n\nKlein-Else threw herself on his cold body, and clung to it with all\nher might. But he who had been her guide and guardian, her will,\ntill now, was powerless and stark; and for all her beseeching he\ncould not answer.\n\nThe chaplain came and raised her up, and they carried the body to\nthe sanctuary; but Klein-Else, paralyzed with sadness and despair,\nstood and gazed after it as though she knew not where she was.\n\nSuddenly wild shouts broke on her ear, and the sound of many feet,\nand the tumult of the servants and men-at-arms bidding her fly,\nfor the enemy had come.\n\n\"Fly, for the enemy is here!\" The words recalled her father's counsel,\nand mechanically she clasped the key, his last legacy. Scarcely taking\ntime to change her embroidered garments for a peasant's attire, she\ncrept along under the wall, counting ten buttresses, with a beating\nheart. After the tenth, she put her hand through the thick ivy, and\nfelt, as her father had foretold, the iron bosses of the lock. It\nrequired all her strength to turn the key; but this accomplished,\nthere was safety and rest behind the ivy's faithful veil.\n\nIt was but just in time; the rough soldiers were close behind.\n\n\"Ha! who went there?\" she heard a hoarse voice say, as she noiselessly\nclosed the door. \"Saw you not the ivy move? Press through and see\nwho passed.\"\n\n\"It was but a frightened hare--I saw it run,\" said another, with a\nless terrible voice.\n\n\"Nothing taller ever passed that branch,\" said another; and the\nspeakers passed out of hearing.\n\n\n\nThere lay the three paths: the one straight on before--but so open,\nso exposed, any one who happened to be passing for miles round might\nhave seen and pursued her, while either of the others offered instant\ncover and security. Klein-Else was sorely tempted to try one of them.\n\n\"If I had heard all his instructions,\" she reasoned, \"it would have\nbeen different: I would then have done all he told me, whithersoever\nit might have led; but now I know not what he meant. I may go a little\nway along this path--and then what shall I do? Maybe, I shall fall\ninto a greater danger than that from which he would have saved me!\"\n\nAnd she turned to seek the shelter of the friendly cottages in the\nvalley beneath. But the words seemed to live in the air around her,--\n\n\"Another destiny is for you!\"\n\nTrembling and confused, she would have plunged into the hiding-place\nof the pine-forest above; but the wind that moaned through their\nlofty branches seemed charged with the words,--\n\n\"Another destiny is for you!\"\n\nShe was thus impelled forward into the open path; and, creeping close\nto the mountain-side, she now pursued her way along it. It was with\nno small relief that she noticed the sun was nearly sinking behind\nthe opposite heights, so that soon she might hope to be safe from\nthe gaze of men.\n\nAnd yet, as darkness fell around, it became but the source of other\nfears. And the sense of her loneliness and abandonment took away her\ncourage to proceed any farther.\n\nShe leant against the rock for support, and her tears fell fast and\nwarm upon its stony side--piteously enough, you might have thought,\nto move and melt it.\n\nAnd so it was! for see! the hard rock yielded and made way before the\nnoble form of a knight in armour, who said, with compassionate voice,--\n\n\"Maiden, wherefore these tears?\"\n\n\"Because my father is dead, and his enemies have taken his castle,\nand I have no shelter and nothing to eat!\" sobbed Klein-Else.\n\n\"If that is all,\" answered the noble knight, \"it is easily made\nstraight.\" And with that he turned to the rock, and said,--\n\n\"Open, hoary rock!\"\n\nAnd the hoary rock opened, and disclosed a treasure of every imaginable\nkind of riches stored around--jewels and coin, and shining armour,\nand dazzling dresses.\n\n\"All this is yours, Klein-Else,\" said the knight; \"you have but to take\nwhat you will, when you will. It will never grow less. You have only\nto say, 'Open, hoary rock!' and these treasures will always appear\nat your bidding. Dispose of them as you like; only make a good use\nof them, for on that depends all your future happiness. I will come\nand see you again in seven years, and I shall see what use you have\nmade of my gift; but you must remember my name, or woe will be to\nyou.\" So he whispered his name in her ear, and disappeared.\n\nKlein-Else was so dazzled and startled that she hardly knew what to\nthink, or whether what had happened was a dream or reality. To make\nsure, she said to the rock, \"Open, hoary rock!\" and the rock opened at\nher bidding as quickly as at the knight's, and disclosed its glittering\ntreasure. But it was still hard to decide all at once what to take of\nit; and knowing that it was in a secure store-house, and that it was\ndangerous to burden herself with much riches when travelling alone\nin the dark night, she only took a few pieces of money--enough to\npay for food and lodging--and passed on with a lightened heart. The\nrock closed up as she went farther--but she took a note of the spot,\nso that she might be sure to know it again; and then made for the\nlights which appeared with friendly radiance at no great distance\nthrough the trees which now fringed the road, repeating the name of the\nknight to herself, as she went along, that she might never forget it.\n\nKlein-Else hasted on, but was rather dismayed to find that the lights\nwere the lights of a great castle where her money would be of no\nuse. She could not ask for a lodging and supper for money there, and\nthere was no other habitation near. So she put by her money again,\nand, with the humility befitting her wayworn aspect and lowly attire,\nbegged the great man's servants to give her some poor employment by\nwhich she might earn a place among them.\n\n\"What can a little, dirty, ragged girl like you do?\" said the cook,\nwho was just occupied in fixing the spit through a young chamois that\nlooked so succulent and tender, one as hungry as Klein-Else might\nhave eaten it as it was.\n\n\"I can do whatever you please to tell me,\" answered Klein-Else,\ntimidly.\n\n\"A proper answer,\" replied the cook. \"Let's see if you can watch\nthe poultry-house, then. You must be up by daybreak and go late\nto bed, and lie in the straw over the poultry-loft, and keep half\nawake all night to scare away the foxes, if any come; and if one\nsmallest chicken is lost, woe betide you! you will be whipped and\nsent away. Here is a piece of dry bread for your supper. Now go,\nand don't stand idling about.\"\n\nKlein-Else was so hungry that she gladly took the piece of dry black\nbread, and went to try to sleep on the straw in the poultry-loft. She\nhad to get up at daybreak, when the cock crew; and she had to keep\nher eye on the brood all day; and late at night she had a piece of\ndry black bread for supper, and was sent to sleep in the straw of\nthe poultry-loft. Her only pastime was to recall the memory of her\ntreasure in the rock, and repeat over and over again the knight's name,\nthat she might be sure never to forget it.\n\n\"But of what use is all my fine treasure,\" she mused, \"if I am never\nto be any thing but a wretched Hennenpf\u00f6sl [64]? And what can I\ndo? if I come out with handfuls of gold and fine clothes, they will\ntake me for a thief or a witch, and I shall be worse off than now;\nand if I show them the treasure, who knows but they will take it from\nme? The knight said my happiness depended on the use I made of it,\nyet I can make no use of it!\"\n\nSo she sat and counted the hens and chickens, and repeated the\nknight's name, and ate her dry black bread, and slept in the straw\nin the poultry-loft.\n\nAt last Sunday came, and the glad church bells rang merrily, flinging\ntheir joyous notes all abroad; and the servants of the castle put\non their best clothes to go to church. But how could Klein-Else be\nseen among them, all in their snow-white linen and bright-coloured\nribbons--Klein-Else, the Hennenpf\u00f6sl, with her poor rags?\n\n\"Now, at last, I can use my treasury,\" she said to herself; \"I can\nat least get some of the pretty clothes that hang there, and go to\nchurch.\" So she washed herself in the mountain-torrent, and braided\nher dishevelled hair in massive golden braids, and crept round to\nthe rock, and bid it open, saying,--\n\n\"Open, hoary rock!\"\n\nOf all the treasures it instantly disclosed, she saw none but one\nbeautiful garment all woven out of sunbeams and glittering with jewels\nof morning dew. Having put this on, and once more looking like a\nbaron's daughter, she made haste to reach the church.\n\nThe holy office had already begun, and the church was crowded right\nout into the porch. But when the people saw such a dazzling sight,\nthey all made way for the lady in the shining apparel, none dreaming of\nKlein-Else. Now the only part of the church where there was any room\nwas at the baron's bench. For he was a young lord, and had neither\nmother, sister, nor wife; and all the places reserved for his family\nwere vacant. Klein-Else, moving on till she could find where to kneel,\nhad thus to come and kneel by him.\n\nThe young baron was as much dazzled at the sight as Klein-Else\nherself had been at the treasures in the rock, and at every pause in\nthe service he could do nothing but fix his gaze on her. As soon as\nit was over, however, Klein-Else glided out softly, and hasting back\nto the rock, hung the sunbeam-dress up again; and once more assuming\nher rags, hid herself in the poultry-loft, almost frightened at what\nshe had done.\n\nAll the next week she had new subjects of thought. She felt sure\nthe young baron had looked at her and admired her; and wasn't it\nmore meet that she, a baron's daughter, should be kneeling by the\nside of the young baron than sleeping in the poultry-loft, a mere\nHennenpf\u00f6sl? Ah, if that came true--if the young baron married her;\nthen she would have some one to tell her good fortune to--some one\nto defend her treasure. Then she could make the good use of it the\nknight had manifestly intended. She could wipe away the tears of all\nthose who went without shelter, as she had once; every desolate orphan\nwho had none to defend her; every poor Hennenpf\u00f6sl, the drudge of the\nmenials. \"How strange,\" she said to herself, \"there should be people\nblessed with friends, and riches, and enjoyments, who live full of\ntheir own happiness, and who have no thought for the forsaken and the\noutcast! She would never be like them, not she! her happiness should\nbe in making others happy.\"\n\nBut, in the meantime, was she sure the baron had looked at her\notherwise than out of curiosity? Was he really interested in her? and\nif he was, would he continue to care for her when he found she was\nonly a Hennenpf\u00f6sl? She must put him to the test; and she sat and\nthought how to arrange this. This was subject enough for thought;\nand this week was at an end only too soon.\n\nThe next Sunday came; and when the church bells rang, Klein-Else ran\nto her rock, took out of her store this time a garment woven out of\nmoonbeams, and having arranged her luxuriant hair in massive tresses,\nonce more proceeded to the church. But with all the haste she had\nmade, she could not arrive before the holy office had begun, and the\nchurch was once more full. The people fell back again, in awe of her\nshining garments, and made way for her to kneel beside the baron,\nwho could scarcely suppress a gesture of delight at beholding her\nonce again. Nor did his joy escape Klein-Else's observation; and many\na blushing glance they exchanged.\n\n\"What a noble cavalier!\" thought Klein-Else; \"and just such a one as\nmy father always told me my husband should be.\"\n\n\"What a lovely maiden!\" mused the young baron; \"where can she have\nsprung from? Is she of earth or heaven?\"\n\nAll that last week, while Klein-Else was thinking of him, he had\nbeen thinking still more of her; and had ordered his waiting-men to\nsurround her as she came out of church, and beg her to come to him\nat the castle. But Klein-Else had no idea of suffering herself to\nbe so easy a prize; so she fled so fast the baron's men could hardly\napproach her. And when at last she found they were gaining upon her,\nand that her fleet step availed her not, she threw down the pieces of\nmoney which she took the first night from the rock; and while they\nstopped to pick them up, pursued her way unperceived, and let the\nrock close on her till they had lost the trace. Then, assuming her\npoor rags once more, she returned silently to her poultry-loft.\n\nHer thoughts had food enough now; but it was less with the poor\norphans she was to console, than with the young baron, and how to\ntest his love, that they were occupied.\n\nNext Sunday she chose a garment blue like the sky, and all sparkling,\nas with living stars. She presented herself at the church, and\nfound herself again placed beside the young baron. At the end of the\nservice she went out quickly, as before, only this time he contrived,\nas she rose to leave, to seize her hand, and slip a gold ring on\nher finger. Nevertheless, Klein-Else slipped out through the midst\nof the congregation, and though the serving-men had had stringent\norders to follow her, she had prudently provided herself with gold\npieces enough to disperse the whole lot of them while she escaped.\n\nThe young baron sat alone in his castle, as he had sat this fortnight\npast, taking no notice of any one, but as if his whole soul was\nwrapt up in the fair apparition, and he was in despair, since her\nhiding-place could not be traced. He sat nursing his grief, and could\nneither be distracted from it, nor comforted. His friends sent for the\nmost famous physicians of the country to attend him, but none of them\ncould do any thing for his case; and daily he grew paler and gloomier,\nand none could help him. At last the Gr\u00e4fin Jaufenstein, his aunt,\ncame and insisted that some amusement must be found to divert him;\nbut the young baron refused every proposal, till at last she begged\nhim to give a great banquet, to which every one from far and near\nshould be invited, every kind of game and every kind of costly\ndiet should be afforded, and nothing spared to make it the most\nmagnificent banquet ever given. To the great surprise and delight\nof all, he consented to this; but it was because it occurred to him\nthat inviting the whole country, the chances were that the beautiful\nmaiden of his choice, who yet hid herself so persistently from him,\nmight once more mysteriously appear before him too: so he gave his\naunt the Countess Jaufenstein free leave to give what orders she\nliked, and go to what expense she liked, only providing that she\nshould have the invitations publicly published, so that there might\nbe every chance of their reaching the ears of the mysterious maiden.\n\nAt last the day of the banquet came, and there was a running hither\nand thither in the baron's castle, with the preparations, such as can\nbe better imagined than described. The guests swarmed in the halls,\nand the servants in the kitchen; and Klein-Else, creeping up from her\npoultry-loft, could hardly make her way up to the fire where the cook\nwas preparing all manner of deliciously scented dishes.\n\n\"I don't know what ails the things!\" cried the cook; \"these pancakes\nare the only thing the baron will eat, and, as fate will have\nit, I cannot turn one of them to-night! Three and thirty years\nI have made pancakes in this castle, and never did I fail before\nto-night--to-night, when it is most important of all!\" and she poured\nanother into the pan. But as she did so, with a hand trembling with\nanxiety, the oil ran over the side of the pan, and the great heat\nof the stove set it on fire, so that a great flame curled over the\npancake--and there was nothing left of it but a black, misshapen mass.\n\n\"Oh, dear! oh, dear! what shall I do?\" cried the cook; \"there is not\none of the whole lot fit to send up, and if this dish is not the best,\nI had just as lief I had prepared no dish at all!\"\n\n\"May I have a try, friend cook?\" said Klein-Else, coaxingly.\n\n\"You, indeed!\" screamed the cook, indignation and envy added to her\nformer despair; \"and a little, dirty, ragged, misbegotten starveling--a\nvagabond--a Hennenpf\u00f6sl like you, who never saw a kitchen, or a stove,\nor a frying-pan, or any thing else! to suppose that you can turn a\npancake, when I, who have turned pancakes in this castle for three and\nthirty years, have failed! A likely matter indeed! What is the world\ncoming to? Begone, with your impudence, and mind your hens! Ah! now\nI think of it, I believe it is you that have bewitched the eggs, and\nthat's why the pancakes won't turn! Begone, I say, out of my kitchen,\nand out of the poultry-house too--I'll have no more of your tricks\nwith my eggs!\" and she turned, with a menacing gesture at Klein-Else,\nto try her luck once more.\n\nBut at the sight of the black mass in the frying-pan, she grew fairly\ndiscouraged, and throwing herself down in a chair, wrapt her face in\nher apron, and wept like a child.\n\nMeantime Klein-Else advanced with light step to the stove, took up\nthe frying-pan, and cleaned it out in a trice, then poured fresh oil\ninto it, and held it over the stove till it boiled; then, while it\nspluttered cheerily, she deftly poured in the batter, gliding into it\nthe ring which the baron had stealthily put on her hand at church,\nand along with it, one with a magnificent diamond, which she had\ntaken from her treasury in the rock.\n\nThe boiling oil danced and chirped merrily round the cake, the batter\nrose as batter never rose before; and when Klein-Else shifted it\nlightly on to the dish, it wore a bright, golden hue, matched only\nby her own radiant hair.\n\nThe cook, waking from her stupor, was in a transport of delight at\nbeholding the effect of her skill, and sent the dish at once to the\nbaron's table, while Klein-Else took her place in an out-of-the-way\ncorner to hear what should befall.\n\nNor had she long to wait. The dish had not been gone ten minutes,\nwhen the baron's body-servant came solemnly into the kitchen, with\nthe announcement that the baron demanded the immediate attendance\nof the cook. \"It's because I kept him waiting for the pancakes, and\nbecause the one of that little hussey's making is not so good as those\nI have made for him all his life, and his father before him;\" and,\nall trembling and afraid, she rose to follow his messenger. Espying\nKlein-Else watching anxiously behind a pillar as she passed along,\nshe could not forbear calling out to her, \"Ah, wretched child, it is\nyou have got me into this scrape! But you shall pay for it! Why did I\nlet you touch the frying-pan! Why did I let you enter the castle! You\nhad better not come under my sight any more, or I'll soon show you\nwhere the builder made the hole in the wall [65]!\" and she dragged\nherself along slowly, in great fear of the apprehended displeasure\nof the baron, but comforting herself with the determination to let\nhim know the whole fault lay with the Hennenpf\u00f6sl.\n\nGreat was her surprise, however, to find that it was with no intention\nof chiding that the baron had summoned her. On the contrary, the\ngloomy cloud his brow had lately worn had disappeared; he not only\nlooked gay and joyous as of old, but a special radiance of pleasurable\nexpectation lit up his countenance.\n\n\"Why, cook,\" he said, \"you have made me good pancakes all my life,\nbut never one like this! Now tell me honestly who made this one?\"\n\n\"Nay, but if it is so, I may as well have the credit of it,\" thought\nthe cook; \"and, after all, I did make the batter, and that's the\nchief part of the work.\"\n\n\"Oh, I made it myself, baron, upon my soul! no one but myself makes\nany thing for the high table.\"\n\nThe baron's countenance fell. He began to look gloomy and disappointed\nonce more--was the clue to escape him after all? He roused himself\nagain, as with one flash of hope.\n\n\"Did no one help you to make it?\"\n\n(\"If I tell that she had any part in it, it is obvious, from the tone\nhe takes, he will give the whole merit to her. No, I'll not mention\nher; and besides, she didn't help me to make it.\")\n\n\"Oh, baron, it don't want two people to make a pancake! I've always\nmade pancakes for this castle these three and thirty years without\nhelp;\" and she tried to talk as if she felt hurt, and thus bring the\nconversation to an end.\n\nThe baron passed his hand roughly across his forehead, and stamped\nhis foot in despair.\n\nOnce more a hopeful thought flashed across his mind.\n\n\"These rings! tell me, how did they get into the pancake, if you made\nit?\" he exclaimed, in peremptory accents.\n\n\"Those rings? I never saw those rings before,\" stammered the cook,\nbeginning to get a little confused.\n\n\"And what did you mutter as you passed the Hennenpf\u00f6sl coming\nalong, about it's being all her fault, and making her suffer for\nit?\" interposed the body-servant.\n\n\"Ha! said she so?\" cried the baron. \"Speak, woman, what meant you by\nthose words? Beware, and speak the truth this time, for it is matter\nof terrible consequence!\"\n\n\"Who ever would have thought such a fuss would come of turning a\npancake!\" thought the cook to herself; but she said out aloud, \"Well,\nit is true, the Hennenpf\u00f6sl did hold the frying-pan while it was on\nthe stove; I didn't know it was worth while to mention that. But what\ncould she have to do with the beautiful rings?\"\n\n\"True,\" replied the servant, \"that can have nothing to do with it,\nas you say.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" replied the baron, \"I'm not so clear of that. Let the\nHennenpf\u00f6sl, as you call her, be brought here, and let's see what\naccount she has to give of it.\"\n\n\"But it's impossible; she isn't even a servant of the house. She is\na little whining beggar brat, that I took in scarce three weeks ago\nand put in the poultry-loft, to keep her from starving.\"\n\n\"Three weeks!\" exclaimed the baron; \"said you three weeks? Let her\nbe brought to me instantly.\"\n\n\"But she isn't fit to come into your presence; she's grimed with dirt,\nand covered in rags.\"\n\n\"Reason not, but send her hither,\" said the baron, his energy returning\nas his hopes kindled.\n\n\"If she is the maiden to whom I gave the ring, she is of no low birth:\nthere is some mystery which I must penetrate. If she were nothing\nbut a 'Hennenpf\u00f6sl,' whence could she have had this brilliant ring,\nwhich puts mine to shame?\" he mused within himself, as he waited\nimpatiently for the maiden of his dreams to appear.\n\nKlein-Else, meantime, had made no doubt that since the baron had\nsent for the cook, his wisdom would enable him to discover that she\nmust be sent for next, and had accordingly repaired to her treasury\nin the rock, and had taken thence a resplendent attire. It was no\nlonger now the simple gifts of nature which furnished her wardrobe;\nshe was decked as became a baron's daughter, with all the resources of\nthe milliner and the jeweller's art. Cavaliers and ladies-in-waiting\nwalked beside her, and twenty pages dressed in pink and white satin,\nwith plumed bonnets, carried her train behind, while men in rich\nliveries, bearing torches, ran by the side of the procession.\n\nGr\u00e4fin Jaufenstein was at the head of the hall welcoming the guests,\nand doing the honours of the castle, to supply what the moody humour\nof its lord left lacking in courtesy. But while she courtesied to\nnoble lords and ladies with queenly grace, and, with imperceptible\nasides, at the same time gave directions that every one should have\nhis due place, and that every thing should proceed with the due order\nof etiquette, it never for a moment escaped her practised eye that\nsomething unusual was going on in the neighbourhood of the young\nbaron. That he should summon the cook to his presence, probably to\nchide her justly for some breach of the rules of her art, if such\nhad befallen, was indeed no unreasonable distraction for the baron's\nmelancholy, and she hailed it as a token of returning interest in the\nordinary affairs of life, which had occupied him so little of late;\nbut when she heard him order the Hennenpf\u00f6sl to be brought there in\nthe midst of his guests, she thought it time to interfere--it became\na matter of eccentricity passing all bounds. Dexterously excusing her\nmomentary absence from her guests, she accordingly made her way up to\nher nephew, preparing to wrap up her remonstrance in her most honeyed\nlanguage, so as better to convince without provoking him. Before she\ncould reach his chair, there was a movement of astonishment in the\nvast assembly, and a cry of admiration, while the heralds proclaimed,--\n\n\"Place for the most noble baron's daughter!\" And then, surrounded\nby her shining crowd of attendants, and glittering in her jewelled\nrobes, Klein-Else made her way with modest, but at the same time\nnoble carriage towards the young baron.\n\nThe young baron recognized her the moment the tapestry was raised\nfor her to pass, and instantly went forth to meet her with courteous\ngestures, and led her up to the seat next his own at the banquet.\n\nThe stately countess looked on a little perplexed, for the first time\nin her life, but with admirable serenity and self-possession inquired\nthe name of the fair guest who did their poor banquet the honour of\nattending it in so great state.\n\n\"I am the poor Hennenpf\u00f6sl, madame, whom your noble nephew has done\nthe honour to summon to his presence; and I hope you will not think\nI disgrace his command,\" replied Klein-Else, with a reverence at once\nlowly and full of accomplished dignity.\n\n\"The Hennenpf\u00f6sl!\" repeated the countess, returning the salute\nmechanically. \"But surely there is some mistake--some----\"\n\n\"Yes, dearest countess, some mystery there is,\" interposed her nephew;\n\"but we will not seek to penetrate it till it shall please the lady\nherself to reveal it. Why she should have chosen to pass some time as\nthe Hennenpf\u00f6sl, I know not; but this is not the first time we have\nmet, and I am sufficiently satisfied of her grace and discretion to\nknow that for whatever reason she chose it, she chose aright. I have\nfurther determined this very night to lay myself and my fortune at\nher feet!\"\n\nKlein-Else started, with a little cry of satisfied expectation,\nthen coloured modestly and looked down.\n\n\"But the lady will at least favour us with her name?\" urged the\ncountess, but half satisfied. Klein-Else turned to her chamberlain\nwith dignity, and whispered an order; and then the chamberlain stood\nforward and proclaimed aloud the names and titles of the deceased\nbaron of the Passeier-Thal, her father.\n\n\"Oh!\" said the lady, in a tone of disparagement, \"methinks his was\na fortune which could scarcely be united with that of my nephew!\"\n\n\"Countess!\" exclaimed the young baron, furious at the suggestion;\nbut before he could proceed the chamberlain once more intervened.\n\n\"There need be no difficulty on that score,\" he said; and he made a\nsign to the attendants who were behind. They came up in brave order,\ntwo and two, each pair bearing a casket in which was a thousand\ncrowns. \"A thousand such caskets contain the dowry of the baron's\ndaughter; and she has priceless jewels without number.\"\n\n\"A million crowns!\" echoed the whole assembly, in chorus; \"was there\never such a fortune known?\"\n\nThe countess was absolutely speechless, and turned to participate in\nthe astonishment of her guests.\n\nThe young baron and Klein-Else, thus left to each other's conversation,\nwere not slow in confessing their mutual love.\n\n\"And now all our friends are gathered round us,\" he exclaimed, at last,\n\"what better time to proclaim our happiness? My friends! I present\nyou the fair lady who has consented to become my bride!\"\n\nThere was a general sound of jubilation and praise. All gathered\nround to felicitate the baron, and the minstrels sang the charms of\nthe bride.\n\nThe baron begged them all to stay with him ten days, to celebrate the\nnuptials. And for ten days there was revelry and rapture, singing\nand merry-making; and when at last the guests returned home, every\none carried back to his own neighbourhood the tale of the surpassing\nbeauty, riches, and grace of Klein-Else. Every body had been won by\nher, there was no dissentient opinion; and even Gr\u00e4fin Jaufenstein\nacknowledged that her nephew could not have made a nobler or better\nchoice.\n\nWhen they were left alone, the days seemed hardly long enough to\ntell their love. Never was there happiness equal to theirs. Before\nthe guests left, the baron had invited them all to come back every\nyear on the anniversary; and every year, as they gathered round,\nthey found them more and more wrapt in each other's love.\n\nOn the second anniversary they found that their happiness had been\nincreased by the birth of an heir; and the next year there was a little\ndaughter too, the delight of her parents. Year by year the children\ngrew in beauty, and grace, and intelligence, and others were added\nto their numbers. And every one envied the unequalled happiness of\nthe baron and baroness.\n\nMeantime the years were passing away, though Klein-Else had taken\nno account of them. To her it was one continual round of enjoyment,\nuncrossed by any care; each season had its own joys, and she revelled\nin the fresh variety of each, but counted them not as they passed.\n\nOne day they sat together under a shady grove: the baron was weaving\na chaplet of roses, Klein-Else was fondling her latest-born upon her\nknee; round them sported their little ones, bringing fresh baskets\nof roses for the chaplet the baron was weaving for Klein-Else; while\nOtto the heir, a noble boy who promised to reproduce his father's\nstately figure and handsome lineaments, rejoiced them by his prowess\nwith his bow and arrow.\n\n\"How the time has sped, Klein-Else!\" whispered the baron; \"it seems\nbut yesterday that you first came and knelt beside me in your sunbeam\ngarment. Then, just as now, it was happiness to feel you beside me. I\nknew not who was there, but as I heard the flutter of your drapery a\nglow of joy seemed to come from its shining folds, and I, who had never\nloved any one else, loved you from that moment as I love you now!\"\n\n\"How well you say it, love!\" responded Klein-Else. \"Yes; where is\nthe difference between to-day and yesterday, and last year and the\nyear before that? Ever since that first day it has been one long love,\nnothing else! Yes; well I remember that day. I was poor, and despised,\nand had no one to talk to, and never thought any one would ever look\nat me again--except to scold me. And then I went into the church and\nknelt by you; and I felt as the new ivy twig must feel when it has\ncrept and tossed about in vain, and then at last finds, close under\nits grasp, the strong, immovable oak, and clasps it--clasps it never\nto loose its hold again, never! but grows up clasping it ever closer\nand closer, till it grows quite one with it, and no one can separate\nthem any more for ever!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied the baron; \"nothing can separate them any more--nothing\ncan separate us now! We have grown together for years, and have only\ngrown the closer. It is now--let me see--five, six, seven years,\nand we have only grown the closer to each other! To think it is\nseven years! no, it wants a few weeks; but it will soon be seven\nyears. Seven--\" he turned to look at her, for he perceived that as\nhe spoke she had loosened her hold of him, and now he saw she was\npale and trembling.\n\n\"But what ails you, Elschen [66]? Elschen dear! speak to me,\nElschen!\" he added, with anxiety, for she sank back almost unconscious\nagainst the bank.\n\n\"I shall be better presently,\" stammered the baroness. \"I think the\nscent of the flowers is too powerful. I don't feel quite well--take\nme down by the side of the water; I shall be better presently.\" An\nattendant took the babe from her arms--and the baron remembered\nafterwards, that as she parted from it she embraced it with a\npassionate flood of tears; then he led her to the side of the stream,\nand bathed her burning forehead in the cooling flood.\n\nSuddenly voices in angry altercation were heard through the trees,\nand the servants summoned the baron with excited gesticulations,\nsaying there was a strange knight, all in armour, who claimed to see\nthe baroness.\n\nKlein-Else was near fainting again when she heard them say that.\n\n\"Claims to see the baroness, say you?\" replied their lord, with\nmenacing gesture. \"Where is he? Let him say that to me!\" and he darted\noff to meet him, without listening to the faint words Klein-Else\nstrove to utter.\n\nNow she was left alone by the side of the stream where, as the\nHennenpf\u00f6sl, she had first washed away the stains of servitude and\ndressed herself to meet him who was to teach her to love. It was\nbeside that stream she had sat, and her tears had mingled with it,\nas she had vowed that if ever such joy was hers as now she owned,\nher treasure should be for those who were outcast and suffering as\nshe had been, and her happiness should be in making others happy!\n\nHow had she fulfilled her vow? From that time to this it had passed\nout of her mind. Filled with her own gratification, she had left\nthe orphan in her bereavement, the suffering in their misery, nor\nstretched out a helping hand.\n\nThe seven years were spent, and there was no doubt the knight was come\nto seek an account of the treasure he had entrusted to her. She had\nnot only to meet him with shame for its misuse, but even his name she\nhad forgotten! And he had said, \"Woe be to you, if you have forgotten\nthat name!\"\n\nBut she had forgotten it. She pressed her hands against her throbbing\ntemples as if to force it from her brain, and swept away the mantling\nhair--if but the cool breeze might waft it back to her! But the\nforgotten name came not.\n\nSuddenly the knight stood before her, and terrible he was to look at\nin his shining armour! As she saw him she screamed and swooned away.\n\nBut he touched her, and bade her rise, then beckoned her to follow him;\nand she could not choose but obey. He led her over the stream and along\nthe path in the mountain-side where the trees fringed the way; and when\nthey reached the rock she knew so well, with its treasury whence all\nher means of happiness had been derived, he said in solemn accents,--\n\n\"Open, hoary rock!\"\n\nBut to her he said,--\n\n\"Look!\"\n\nThen she could not choose but look. But oh, horror! in place of the\ncoin and jewels, armour and apparel, it was filled with wasted forms\nbowed with misery and distress! the tear-worn orphan, the neglected\nsick. Here she saw lying a youth, wan and emaciated, struck down in\nall the promise of boyhood, and his mother tore her hair in agony by\nhis side. And there stood a father, gaunt and grey, vainly grappling\nwith Hunger, who was stealing away his children one by one from before\nhis face. Here----\n\nBut she could bear no more. She sank upon the ground, and hid her\nface for very shame.\n\n\"The ransom of these, it is, you have spent upon yourself!\" thundered\nthe pitiless knight; and every word was a death-knell....\n\nThe baron and his servants continued their search for the unknown\nknight, but for long they found him not; one said he had seen him go\nthis way, and another that. Till at last an artless peasant maiden\ntold them she had seen him take the path of the mountain, across\nthe stream, and the baroness following behind with weak and unsteady\nsteps. The baron hasted his steps to pursue the way she pointed.\n\nBut he only found the lifeless body of Klein-Else kneeling against\nthe hoary rock!\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nPRINCE RADPOT [67].\n\n\nRadpot succeeded early to the throne of his fathers. When on his\ndeathbed, his sire had called him to his side, and said to him,\n\"In leaving you my kingdom, I leave you a counsel with it which is\nworth the kingdom itself. In all things be guided by the advice of\nmy wise counsellor Rathgeb, and you shall do well.\"\n\nBut Radpot had a stepmother who hated him, and was determined to\ndestroy him if possible; so she devised a plot against him, the first\nstep of which was to get him out of the kingdom. She therefore advised\nthat he should take a year's journey to perfect himself in knowledge\nof the world, before assuming the reins of government.\n\nRadpot was not devoid of shrewdness, and readily suspecting some evil\nintention in his stepmother's advice, at first resisted following it;\nbut afterwards, submitting the matter to Rathgeb, according to his\nfather's desire, he received from him a different counsel from that\nwhich he had expected.\n\n\"Though your stepmother may have evil intentions,\" he said, \"you\nneed not therefore be afraid; we shall be able to baffle them. In\nthe meantime, it is well that you should travel to see the world,\nand learn experience. We will so establish a council of regency that\nthe queen shall not be able to do great mischief during your absence.\"\n\nRadpot was nothing loath to follow this advice, as he was of an\nadventurous disposition; so, all things being ordered for the due\nconduct of the affairs of the kingdom, he set out with Rathgeb for\nhis year's journey.\n\nDuring all the days of preparation for the journey, the queen, who\nhad always heretofore shown herself harsh and hostile to Radpot,\nbehaved with the utmost tenderness and devotion, which the young\nprince ascribed to her satisfaction at his having followed her advice,\nand returned her advances with an ingenuous cordiality. She, in turn,\nreceived his deference with an increase of solicitude, and nothing\ncould be more affectionate than their leave-taking. Every thing the\nthoughtfulness of a fond mother could have suggested was provided by\nher for his safety and comfort on the journey; and as he had his foot\nin the stirrup she still had one more token of her care of him.\n\n\"Take this vial,\" she said, \"it is a precious cordial; and when\nyou are worn and wearied with heat and travel, a few drops of\nits precious contents will suffice to restore you to strength and\nvigour. Farewell! and when you taste of it, think of me.\"\n\nRadpot, with all the openness of his generous nature, assured her\nthat he should never forget her kindness for him, and stowing away\nthe vial in his belt, waved his hand to her as he rode away.\n\nTwo days and two nights Radpot and his trusty counsellor journeyed\nthrough the cool forest; and then for another day along its border,\nexposed to the heat of the sun upon the mountain-sides, till they\ncame to a vast plain where there was no shelter of hill or tree,\nno hospitality of human dwelling. With unbroken courage, however,\nthe young prince commenced crossing it. It was only when, after three\ndays' more hard riding, they still seemed as far as ever from a place\nof rest, that, wearied and dispirited, he took out his stepmother's\nvial, to try the effect of her cordial.\n\nIt was the moment Rathgeb had feared. He had observed how completely\nthe queen had lulled Radpot's suspicions, and that every attempt\nat suggesting there was any hypocrisy in her conduct had appeared\nto vex him. To have now spoken of any danger in trying her cordial\nwould probably have provoked his resentment--Rathgeb took another\nway of saving his charge.\n\n\"Think you not our mounts deserve more than we to taste this precious\nrestorative? whatever labour we have endured, theirs has been tenfold.\"\n\n\"True,\" said the good-natured prince; and, dismounting, he opened\nthe mouth of his steed, and poured some drops of the liquid on his\ntongue. He had scarcely done so, however, when the poor beast stretched\nout his long neck with an air of agony, then fell over on its side,\nand expired!\n\nRathgeb left the incident to produce its own effect on the mind of\nhis pupil, who stood gazing as one bewildered.\n\n\"What can it be that killed my good horse?\" he exclaimed, at length;\n\"it could not be the cordial! no, never! the queen could not have\nbeen so base! It was, that he has been so long unused to exercise,\nthis terrible journey has overcome him, and the cordial was too late\nto save him.\"\n\n\"Try it on mine,\" answered Rathgeb; \"he is a battle-charger, used to\nendurance, and delighting in labour. See,\" he said, jumping to the\nground, and patting his neck, \"he is as fresh now as when we started,\nnot a hair turned!\"\n\n\"Be it so,\" replied Radpot, not without some asperity. \"I would not\nsuffer the trial, could I suspect it possible the queen could be\ncapable of so horrible a plot as you evidently suppose; but I cannot\nbelieve it--so give the cordial to your horse.\"\n\nRathgeb took the vial, and poured not more than three drops on the\ntongue of his thirsty beast. Both watched the effect with a tension\nakin to awe.\n\nIn the first few moments no change was apparent, but Radpot was too\ngenerous to give utterance to the triumph he began to experience.\n\nSuddenly the faithful beast started as if it had been transfixed with\nthe sharpest arrow, directed one piteous look towards the master it had\nserved so well, and fell down lifeless by the side of its companion.\n\n\"There is no doubt it is as you say,\" Radpot now confessed, at\nonce. \"Forgive me for the haste with which I spoke.\"\n\n\"Nay, prince, there is no need of excuse. Though it behoved me to\nstand on guard and see no harm befell you, it became you to trust\nher whose duty it was to befriend, not to harm you.\"\n\n\"And now try this cordial of mine, maybe it will fulfil what the\nother promised.\"\n\nThe prince gladly accepted the proffered gift; and both, wonderfully\nrestored by its effects, continued their journey on foot.\n\nThey had not gone far when three ravens passed them on the wing. The\nprince and his companion turned back to watch their flight, and saw\nthem alight on the carrion of their dead horses, immediately after\ntasting of which they all three fell to the earth dead, by the side\nof the dead horses.\n\n\"There may be some profit to be gained from these,\" said Rathgeb;\nand going back to the spot, he picked up the dead ravens and took\nthem with him.\n\nTheir journey was without further incident, till they at last espied\na welcome hut completely sheltered in the border of a vast stretch\nof forest land.\n\nThe sight gave them courage for renewed exertion; and in a few minutes\nmore they stood before the door. An old woman came out to ask them\nin, but observing the youth and noble mien of the prince, she seemed\nto be moved with compassion, and cried out, with great earnestness,\nentreating them not to come in, for the place was the resort of a\nband of twelve robbers, and that no one could deliver them out of\ntheir hands. They would not be home till the next day for dinner;\nin the meantime, by a path she indicated, the travellers could easily\nmake good their escape.\n\nThe prince would have rewarded her for her advice, and have set out\nagain to find a safer shelter; but Rathgeb remarked to him, that a\nprince should rather find means to overcome a danger than fly from it,\nand promised to carry him through this one, if he would be guided\nby him. Radpot, mindful of his father's desire, promised to do all\nhe proposed.\n\n\"Then, when the robbers come in, do exactly as I do,\" said Rathgeb;\n\"in the meantime keep up your courage.\" And so they supped on what the\nold woman set before them, and went to bed and slept peacefully. The\nnext day, an hour before dinner-time, Rathgeb went into the kitchen\nand handed the three ravens to the old woman to cook, giving her\nvery particular directions as to the sauces that were to accompany\nit, as if it were a dish for which they had a particular liking,\nand wished dressed entirely for themselves. He was still watching\nthe confection of the dish when the twelve robbers came back. They\ngave the two strangers a friendly reception, and invited them to\ndinner. This, the old servant had told Rathgeb, was their custom,\nand that after dinner they fell upon their guests and slew them at\nthe moment when they least expected any onslaught.\n\nRathgeb accepted the invitation, with the proviso that he and his\ncompanion should be allowed to eat their own food, being some game\nthey had brought down by the way. The robbers made no objection, and\nthey sat down to table. While waiting for the repast to be brought,\nthe robbers entertained their guests with lively conversation, in\nwhich Rathgeb joined with great show of cordiality, the young prince\nsustaining his part admirably.\n\nWhen the dishes were brought, the old woman was careful to set the\nthree ravens before Rathgeb, as he had bidden her; but the chief\nrobber interposed, and said they must really allow him to offer him\nand his young friend of their hospitality. Rathgeb made a little\ncourteous difficulty; and the robber-chief, whose object was not\nto thwart his guests in any thing, but make a show of the greatest\ncivility, said he must really consent to exchange dishes, and not\ndeprive him of the pleasure of providing in one way or another for\nhis guests. After holding out for some pressing, Rathgeb consented,\nand each set to work to help himself to what was before him, the\ndish which had been before the robber-chief having been exchanged\nwith that which was before Rathgeb.\n\nRathgeb helped the prince without appearing to take any notice of\nwhat befell the robbers; and Radpot, understanding how important\nit was to engender no suspicion, fell with a hunter's appetite upon\nthe viands without taking his eyes from his plate, after the manner\nof a famished man. Before he had devoured many mouthfuls, however,\nthe poison of the ravens had done its work; one after another, or\nrather all together, the robbers fell under the table as suddenly as\nthe horses and the ravens themselves--all but one. For one of the\nrobbers had felt suspicious of the unusual circumstance of guests\nbringing their own food with them; when he pointed this out to his\ncompanions, they said it was clear there could be no guile in the\nmatter, seeing the guests had so manifestly prepared it for their\nown eating. But he had abstained from incurring the risk himself,\nand now alone stood erect amid the dead bodies of his companions.\n\n\"Draw, prince,\" said Rathgeb, \"and rid us of this scum of the\nearth! cross not your sword with the defiled one, but smite him down\nas a reptile.\"\n\nRadpot did not wait to be twice told; before Rathgeb had done speaking\nhe had hewn down the swaggering bully, who had thought to make easy\nwork of an unpractised foe.\n\nRadpot and his counsellor lost no time in continuing their journey. The\nstore of the robbers they left to the old woman who had befriended\nthem, and took only a provision of wine and bread with them for their\nnecessities by the way.\n\nSkirting along the borders of the forest, they shortly came to a fine\ncity, where they established themselves at the first inn. They sat\ndown in the Herrenst\u00fcbchen [68] while other guests came in. \"What\nnews is there?\" asked Rathgeb of the new comers.\n\n\"News?\" asked the person addressed; \"it's always the old story\nhere--but that's as strange for those who don't know it as any news.\"\n\n\"What may it be, then?\" pursued Rathgeb.\n\n\"Why, the princess to whom all this country belongs is going on with\nher old mad pranks. She is perpetually propounding some new stupid\nriddle, promising her hand and kingdom to whomsoever divines it. But\nno one can divine the meaning of her nonsense; and the penalty is,\nthat whoever attempts and fails is dressed like a fool or jester,\nwith long ears and bells, and is made to ride backwards all through\nthe city, with all the people hooting and jeering him.\"\n\nRathgeb then informed himself as to the appearance and character of\nthe princess.\n\n\"Oh, as to that, she is charming in appearance--radiant as the sun,\ndazzling all beholders; that is how so many heads are turned by\nher. And as for her mind, there is no fault there either, except\nthat just because she is more gifted than all other women, she is\nthus proud and haughty and unbearable.\"\n\nRathgeb had heard enough, and went out with the prince to make\nacquaintance with the city and people, and to talk to him of the\nplans which had suggested themselves to him for courting and taming\nthe princess. Radpot, who had been much pleased with the account\nof the princess they heard repeated all around, entered fully into\nhis projects.\n\nAs the princess was much interested in conversing with foreigners,\nit was not difficult for Rathgeb and the prince to obtain admission\nto her. Rathgeb then proposed the prince to her as suitor; but on\nthe condition that, instead of the princess proposing the riddle\nfor him to guess, he should propose one for the princess to guess,\nand that if she failed, she must marry his prince.\n\nTwo motives urged the princess to accede to this arrangement: first,\nshe felt her credit was staked on not refusing the trial; and then,\nshe was so struck by the appearance of the handsome young suitor,\nthat she was very glad to be saved the chance of losing him by his\nnot guessing her riddle.\n\nRathgeb's riddle was: \"What is that of which one killed two, two\nkilled three, and three killed eleven?\"\n\nThe princess asked for three days to consider her answer; during\nwhich time she consulted all her clever books and all the wise men\nof the kingdom, but she was unable to arrive at any answer which had\na chance of proving to be the right one.\n\nThe third day came, and with it Rathgeb and the prince. The\nprincess was obliged to acknowledge herself vanquished, but found an\nover-payment for her vexation in having to marry the handsome prince,\nwho, however, had, by Rathgeb's advice, not told her that he was a\nprince, and they passed for two travelling pedlars.\n\nAt first all went well enough. In the happiness of living with a\nhusband she loved, the Princess forgot many of her haughty ways, and\nas the prince governed the kingdom wisely, under Rathgeb's advice,\nevery body was content.\n\nThis happy state of things was not destined to last. By degrees the\nprincess's old habits of self-sufficiency, haughtiness, and bad temper\ncame back, and Radpot found he had hard lines to keep peace with\nher. From day to day this grew worse; and at last he found it hardly\npossible to endure her continual reproaches and causeless vituperation.\n\nIn the meantime Rathgeb received the intelligence from the council of\nregency that the queen, Radpot's stepmother, was dead, and that all\nthe people were impatient that he should return and place himself at\nthe head of the nation.\n\nIn communicating this news to the prince, the old counsellor propounded\na scheme for reducing his wife to a better frame of mind which pleased\nhim well. In accordance with it, Radpot absented himself from the\npalace for several days. At the end of that time he returned; but\ninstead of waiting to listen to the fierce invectives with which the\nprincess met him on his return, he interrupted her at the beginning of\nthe discourse by informing her that he had been engaged on important\naffairs which did not concern her. Before she had time to recover\nfrom her surprise at his audacity in treating her thus, he went on\nto say that this absence was only the prelude to a much longer one,\nas he was now called home by his mother, who was a very old woman, and\nwho entreated him to remain with her during the rest of her days; that\nhe was about to set out, therefore, to go to her, and he could not say\nif he should be able ever to come back again--so he must bid her adieu.\n\nThe princess could not for a long time be induced to believe that he\nwas serious; but when she really found him making preparations for his\ndeparture, without any allusion to the idea of her accompanying him,\nshe was so softened and distressed that, but for a sign from Rathgeb,\nhe would have forgiven her at once, and told her all.\n\nBy Rathgeb's advice, he determined to put her change of demeanour to\nthe test before giving in, and he told her it was impossible to take\nher with him.\n\nAt this, her pleading to accompany him became still more earnest.\n\n\"But if you came with me, you would not have a palace-full of servants\nto wait upon you; you would have to live in a poor hut with a cross\nold woman, to whom I could not bear that you should answer a cross\nword, however peevish she might be; you would have to live on the\npoorest fare, and to earn something towards the support of your life.\"\n\nThe princess, who really loved Radpot devotedly, and was of a good\nand noble nature, having erred chiefly through thoughtlessness and\nwant of self-control, accepted all these hard terms cheerfully,\nrather than be separated from her husband.\n\nSo they set out the next day. And when they got near Radpot's capital,\nRathgeb went on before to a poor cottage in the outskirts, where there\nlived a lone old woman whom he could trust to carry on his plan by\nacting as Radpot's mother, without her ever knowing who he really was.\n\nWhen Radpot and the princess arrived before this cottage, by Rathgeb's\ninstruction, the old woman came out and welcomed him as her son,\nand Radpot introduced the princess to her as his wife.\n\n\"Not much like the wife of an honest workman either!\" grumbled the\nold woman, according to Rathgeb's instructions. \"That's the kind of\nwife a man picks up when he goes to foreign parts--a pert, stuck-up\nminx! But she'll have to learn to dress like a sober woman, and make\nsome use of her fingers, now she's come here, I can tell her!\"\n\nThe princess could have thrust these words back down the old woman's\nthroat in an instant, but Radpot imposed silence by a severe look; and\nthen he reminded her that she had promised submission and obedience to\nhis mother, adding that, if she desired it, and shrank from sharing\nhis poverty and hard fare, his friend Rathgeb would even now take\nher back to her own country.\n\nBut the very idea of parting from him produced immediate submission;\nand the old lady happening to be leaning against the table, as if\ntired of the exertion of welcoming her son, she even fetched and\nplaced a chair for her, and helped her gently into it.\n\nBut still, bad habits cannot be changed all at once, and before the\nday was out Radpot had had to put on his severe look to arrest her\nangry answer many a time.\n\nThe next morning, as soon as they had breakfasted, he said he was\ngoing out for his work as a mason's labourer, and she must choose\nwhat work she would do, as no one must be idle in his house. The\nprincess timidly replied that she knew many kinds of fine embroidery,\nwhich she thought would sell for a great price, and as she had some\nsuch with her, she would set to work to finish a piece of it, so that\nRathgeb might take it into the town and get it sold.\n\nRadpot came back in the evening, and flung down a few pence on the\ntable, which he said was the amount of his daily wage, and told\nher to go out and get the supper with it. It was little she knew of\nhow to buy a workman's supper; and what she brought Radpot was so\ndissatisfied with that (having dined himself in the palace) he threw\nit out of window, so that she had to go supperless to bed. Before\nshe went up-stairs, however, Radpot told her to show him her day's\nwork; and when she brought it, expecting him to admire its delicacy\nand finish, he at once threw it on one side, saying he was sure such\ncoarse stuff would not sell there.\n\nThe princess spent the night more in weeping than in sleeping. In the\nmorning she had to get up and prepare the breakfast, in doing which\nshe not only burnt her hands, but, by her general awkwardness at the\nunusual work, incurred a storm of vituperation from the old mother\nsuch as she had often been wont to bestow, while no rough word had\never been spoken to her before in her whole life.\n\nAll through the day she had to attend to all the old woman's whims;\nand in the evening when Radpot came home it was nearly the same thing\nagain with the supper, and he would scarcely suffer her to snatch\nmore than a few mouthfuls, so angry he showed himself at her mistakes\nin the manner of preparing it. He told her, too, that so long as she\ndid not know how to earn her food, she must not expect to have much\nof it. This made her the more desirous that Rathgeb should take her\nwork to the town. When he had done so, however, he brought it back,\nsaying no one would buy such coarse, common work there. Then she\ntried other kinds, each finer and more delicate than the last; but\nall were brought back to her with the same answer. At last they gave\nher a basket of common pottery, and told her to go and sell it to the\npoor people in the market-place. This answered rather better than\nthe work. There were plenty of people who wanted to buy crockery,\nand the most of them came to her basket in preference to others',\nbecause of her beautiful face all bathed in tears. But just as she\nwas reckoning up what a nice sum we should now have to take home, and\nthat it would be acknowledged she had done something right at last,\na smartly caparisoned cavalier came riding past, and, without heed\nto her cries, upset the whole of her stock upon the road, smashing\nevery thing to atoms, and scattering her heap of halfpence into the\ngutter. She was so bewildered she hardly thought to look at him,\nand yet, from the single glance, he appeared so like Radpot that she\nalmost called to him by name; he dashed away, however, so quickly,\nthat he was out of hearing in a minute.\n\nIn the evening, when she came to detail her mishap to him, he appeared\nto be very angry at her ill success in every thing she attempted,\nadding, \"I'm afraid you'll never be any use to a poor man--we must\nget Rathgeb to take you back home again.\"\n\nBut at this she threw herself at his feet in despair, begged him\nso piteously to do any thing but that, promised so earnestly to\napply herself to any mode of life he prescribed for her, provided\nonly he would keep her by him, that he could hold out no longer,\nand determined to put an end to her trial.\n\n\"I will give you one chance more,\" he said, trying to assume a tone\nof indifference: \"you shall bring me my dinner while I am at work\nto-morrow; that will save me the time of going to get it, and will be\nworth something--only mind, now, don't make any mistake this time! I\nam working at the palace; bring the dinner there, and ask for the\nmason's labourer.\"\n\nThe next day she took good care to have the dinner ready in time;\nand though she was filled with confusion at having to go through the\npublic streets carrying the humble provision of the labourer's dinner,\nand every one gazing after her beautiful, tearful face, she yet went\nher way bravely, and came at last to the palace.\n\nThe moment she asked at the door for the mason's labourer, a page was\nsent with her, who conducted her through suites of apartments vaster\nand more magnificent than those of her own palace; and, while she was\nlost in bewilderment, the page suddenly stopped short and pointed to\na drapery hanging, saying, \"Pull that aside, and you will find within,\nhim you seek,\" and then darted away.\n\nShe scarcely dared do as she was bid; but then the clocks began to\nstrike the midday hour, and, fearful of keeping her husband waiting,\nshe lifted the drapery with a trembling hand.\n\nOn a royal throne, and habited in royal state, there sat Radpot\nhimself, Rathgeb standing respectfully by his side. The princess\nthought to have fainted at the sight, for she could in no way\nunderstand how they came to be there.\n\n\"Come in, princess!\" said Radpot, encouragingly; and Rathgeb went to\nthe door, and conducted her up to him. He bid her welcome, and kissed\nher tenderly, told her frankly what had been his plans with her, then\nled her into an adjoining room, where there were ladies-in-waiting\nready to attire her in a robe of cloth-of-gold and coronet of diamonds,\nwhich they held in readiness, with many choicest ornaments of gold\nand precious stones. When she was ready, pages in court suits went\nbefore her, and heralds proclaimed her aloud.\n\nAs soon as the prince saw her arrive, he ordered his high council\nto be called in, and presented his consort to them, declaring her as\nvirtuous as she was fair.\n\nAfter this they lived together many years in great happiness, for\nthe princess had had a life-long lesson, and never relapsed into her\nfoolish ways.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE THREE BLACK DOGS.\n\n\nThe wind roared through the tall fir-trees, and swept the\nsnow-flakes in masses against the window-panes; the rafters rattled\nand the casements clattered; but dismally, above the roaring and\nthe clattering, sounded the howling of three black dogs at the\ncottage-door; for their good master lay on the pallet within, near\nhis end, and never more should he urge them on to the joyous hunt.\n\nThe old man was stark and grey; one bony hand held fast the bed-clothes\nwith convulsive clutch, and one rested in benediction on the dark\nlocks of his only son kneeling by his side. Long he lay as if at the\nlast gasp. Then suddenly raising his weary head from the pillow, he\nexclaimed, \"J\u00f6ssl, my son, forget not to pray for your father when\nhe is no more.\" And J\u00f6ssl sobbed in reply.\n\n\"J\u00f6ssl,\" continued the old man, with painful effort, \"you know fortune\nhas never favoured me in this world: you are my noble boy, and I would\nhave left you rich enough to be a great man, as your looks would have\nyou--but it was not to be! J\u00f6ssl, it was not to be!\" and the old man\nsank back upon the bed, and hid his face and wept.\n\n\"Father, you have taught me to labour, to be honest, to face danger,\nand to fear God!\" said the brave youth, throwing himself upon him\nand caressing his hollow cheeks; \"that was the best inheritance you\ncould leave me.\"\n\n\"Well said! my noble son,\" replied the father. \"But you are young to\nrough the world by yourself; and I have nothing to leave you but the\nThree Black Dogs--my faithful dogs--they are howling my death-knell\nwithout. Let them in, J\u00f6ssl--they are all you have now in the world!\"\n\nJ\u00f6ssl went to let them in; and as he did so the old man's eyes glazed\nover and his spirit fled, and J\u00f6ssl returned to find only a corpse.\n\nThe Three Black Dogs ceased their howling when they saw his grief,\nand came and fawned upon him and licked his hands. For three days\nthey remained mourning together; and then the men came and buried the\nfather. Other people came to live in the cottage, and J\u00f6ssl went out\nto wander over the wide world, the Three Black Dogs following behind.\n\nWhen there was a day's work to be done they fared well enough. Though\nhe had so fair a face and so noble a bearing, J\u00f6ssl was always ready\nto apply his stalwart limbs to labour, and what he earned he shared\nwith the Three Black Dogs, who whined and fawned and seemed to say,--\n\n\"We are eating your bread in idleness now; but never mind, the day\nwill come when we will earn you yours.\"\n\nBut when there was no work to be had, when the storm beat and\nthe winter wind raged, J\u00f6ssl was fain to share a peasant's meal\nwhere he could find pity by the way, and many there were who said,\n\"God be gracious unto thee, my son,\" when they saw his comely face;\nbut the Black Dogs slunk away, as if ashamed that their master's son\nshould have to beg, not only for himself, but for them also.\n\nBetter times came with the spring; and then there was the hay-cutting,\nand the harvesting, and the vintage, and J\u00f6ssl found plenty of\nwork. But still he journeyed on, and the Three Black Dogs behind.\n\nAt last he saw in the distance the towers of a great city, and he\nhasted on, for all his life he had lived in the mountains, and had\nnever seen a town.\n\nBut when he reached it, he found that though it was a vast city, it\nwas empty and desolate. Broad well-paved roads crossed it, but they\nwere more deserted than the mountain-tracks. There were workshops,\nand smithies, and foundries, and ovens, but all silent and empty, and\nno sound was heard! Then he looked up, and saw that every house was\ndraped with black, and black banners hung from the towers and palaces.\n\nStill not a human being appeared, either in the public squares or\nat the house-windows; so he still wandered on, and the Three Black\nDogs behind.\n\nAt last he espied in the distance a waggoner with his team coming\nthrough the principal road which traversed the city, and lost no\ntime in making his way up to him and asking what this unearthly\nstillness meant.\n\nThe waggoner cracked his whip and went on, as if he were frightened\nand in a hurry; but J\u00f6ssl kept up with him. So he told him, as they\nwent along, that for many years past a great Dragon had devastated the\ncountry, eating up all the inhabitants he found in the way, so that\nevery one shunned the streets; nor should he be going through now,\nbut that need obliged him to pass that way, and he got through the\nplace as quickly as he could. But, he added, there was less danger\nfor him now, because lately they had found that if every morning some\none was put in his way to devour, that served him for the day, and\nhe left off teasing and worrying others as he had been used to do;\nso that now a lot was cast every day, and upon whomsoever of the\ninhabitants the lot fell, he had to go out upon the highway early\nthe next morning that the dragon might devour him and spare the rest.\n\nJust then a crier came into the street, and proclaimed that the lot\nthat day had fallen on the king's daughter, and that to-morrow morning\nshe must be exposed to the dragon.\n\nThe people, who had come to the windows to hear what the crier had\nto say, now no longer kept within doors. Every one was so shocked to\nthink that the lot had fallen on their beautiful young princess, that\nthey all came running out into the streets to bewail her fate aloud;\nand the old king himself came into their midst, tearing his clothes\nand plucking out his white hair, while the tears ran fast down his\nvenerable beard.\n\nWhen J\u00f6ssl saw that, it reminded him of his own father, and he could\nnot bear to see his tears.\n\nThen the king sent the crier out again to proclaim that if any one\nwould fight the dragon, and deliver his daughter, he should have her\nhand, together with all his kingdom. But the fear of the dragon was\nso great on all the people of the city that there was not one would\nventure to encounter it, even for the sake of such a prize.\n\nEvery hour through the day the crier went out and renewed the\nproclamation. But every one was too much afraid of the dragon to make\nthe venture, and J\u00f6ssl, though he felt he would have courage to meet\nthe dragon; could not find heart to come forward before all the people\nof the king's court, and profess to do what no one else could do. So\nthe hours went by all through the day and all through the night,\nand no one had appeared to deliver the princess.\n\nThen daybreak came, and with it the mournful procession which was to\nconduct the victim to the outskirts of the city; and all the people\ncame out to see it, weeping. The old king came down the steps of the\npalace to deliver up his daughter; and it was all the people could\ndo to hold him back from giving himself up in her place.\n\nBut when the moment of parting from her came, the thought was so\ndreadful that he could not bring himself to make the sacrifice; and\nwhen he should have given her up he only clasped her the tighter in\nhis arms. Then the people began to murmur. They said, \"The hour is\nadvancing, and the dragon will be upon us, and make havoc among us\nall. When the lot fell upon one of us, we gave up our wives, and our\nfathers, and our children; and now the same misfortune has visited\nyou, you must do no less;\" and as the time wore on they grew more\nand more angry and discontented.\n\nThis increased the distress and terror of the king, and he raved\nwith despair.\n\nWhen J\u00f6ssl found matters as bad as this, he forgot his bashfulness,\nand coming forward through the midst of the crowd, he asked permission\nto go out to meet the dragon; \"and if I fail,\" he added, \"at least I\nshall have prolonged the most precious life by one day;\" and he bent\ndown and kissed the hem of the princess's garment.\n\nWhen the princess heard his generous words she took heart, and\nlooked up, and was right glad to see one of such noble bearing for\nher deliverer. But the old king, without stopping to look at him,\nthrew himself on his neck and kissed him with delight, and called\nhim his son, and promised him there was nothing of all the crier had\nproclaimed that should not be fulfilled.\n\nThe discontent of the people was changed into admiration; and they\naccompanied J\u00f6ssl to the city gates with shouts of encouragement as\nhe went forth to meet the dragon, and the Three Black Dogs behind.\n\nIf the king's daughter had been pleased with the appearance of her\ndeliverer, J\u00f6ssl had every reason to be no less delighted with that\nof the lady to whom he was about to devote his life.\n\nFull of hope and enthusiasm, he passed on through the midst of the\npeople--regardless of their shouts, for he was thinking only of\nher--and the Three Black Dogs behind.\n\nIt was past the time when the dragon usually received his victim, and\nhe was advancing rapidly towards the city walls, roaring horribly,\nand \"swinging the scaly horrors of his folded tail.\" The fury of\nthe monster might have made a more practised arm tremble, but J\u00f6ssl\nthought of his father's desire that he should be a great man, and\ndo brave deeds, and his courage only seemed to grow as the danger\napproached. He walked so straight towards the dragon, with a step so\nfirm and so unlike the trembling gait of his usual victims, that it\nalmost disconcerted him. When they had approached each other within\na hundred paces, J\u00f6ssl called to his dog Lightning, \"At him, good\ndog!\" At the first sound of his voice Lightning sprang to the attack,\nand with such celerity that the dragon had no time to decide how to\nmeet his antagonist.\n\n\"Fetch him down, Springer!\" cried J\u00f6ssl next; and the second dog,\nfollowing close on Lightning's track, sprang upon the dragon's neck,\nand held him to the ground.\n\n\"Finish him, Gulper!\" shouted J\u00f6ssl; and the third dog, panting for\nthe order, was even with the others in a trice, and fixing his great\nfangs in the dragon's flesh, snapped his spine like glass, and bounded\nback with delight to his master's feet.\n\nJ\u00f6ssl, only stopping to caress his dogs, drew his knife, and cut out\nthe dragon's tongue; and then returned to the city with his trophy,\nand the Three Black Dogs behind.\n\nIf the people had uttered jubilant shouts when he started, how much\nmore now at his victorious return! The king and his daughter heard\nthe shout in their palace, and came down to meet the conqueror.\n\n\"Behold my daughter!\" said the old king: \"take her; she is yours,\nand my kingdom with her! I owe all to you, and in return I give you\nall I have.\"\n\n\"Nay, sire,\" interposed J\u00f6ssl; \"that you give me permission to\napproach the princess is all I ask, and that she will deign to let\nme think that I may be one day found not unworthy of her hand. But\nas regards your kingdom, that is not for me. I am but a poor lad,\nand have never had any thing to command but my Three Black Dogs:\nhow should I, then, order the affairs of a kingdom?\"\n\nThe king and all the people, and the princess above all, were pleased\nwith his modesty and grace; and they sounded his praises, and those of\nhis Three Black Dogs too, and conducted them with him to the palace,\nwhere J\u00f6ssl received a suit of embroidered clothes and the title of\nduke, and was seated next the princess.\n\nThe king, finding that he was resolute in refusing to accept the crown,\ndetermined to adopt him for his son; and had him instructed in every\nthing becoming a prince, so that he might be fit to succeed him at\nhis death. To the Three Black Dogs were assigned three kennels and\nthree collars of gold, with three pages to wait on them; and whenever\nJ\u00f6ssl went on a hunting-party, his Three Black Dogs had precedence\nof all the king's dogs.\n\nAs time wore on J\u00f6ssl had other opportunities of distinguishing\nhimself; and by little and little he came to be acknowledged as the\nmost accomplished courtier and the most valiant soldier in the kingdom.\n\nThe princess had admired his good looks and his self-devotion from\nthe first, but when she found him so admired and courted by all the\nworld too, her esteem and her love for him grew every day, till at\nlast she consented to fulfil the king's wish, and they were married\nwith great pomp and rejoicing. Never was there a handsomer pair; and\nnever was there a braver procession of lords and ladies and attendants,\nthan that which followed them that day, with music and with bells,\nand the Three Black Dogs behind.\n\n\n\n* * * There are countless spots in Tirol in which tales are\ntraditional of brave peasants, hunters, and woodmen delivering the\nplace out of some need or danger, symbolized as \"a dragon,\" similar\nin the main to the above, but with varieties of local colouring. I\ngave the preference to the above for the sake of the Three Black Dogs.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nOTTILIA AND THE DEATH'S HEAD; OR, \"PUT YOUR TRUST IN PROVIDENCE.\"\n\n\nIn the little town of Schwatz, on the Inn, the chief river of Tirol,\nthere lived once a poor little peasant-girl named Ottilia. Ottilia\nhad been very fond of her dear mother, and cried bitterly when she\nhad the great misfortune to lose her. She tried hard to do all she\nhad seen her mother do: she swept the house and milked the cow,\nand baked the bread, and stitched at her father's clothes; but she\ncould not, with all her diligence, get through it all as her mother\ndid. The place began to get into disorder, and the pigs and the fowls\nfought, and she could not keep them apart, and she could not manage\nthe spinning; and what was worst of all, she could not carry in the\nloads of hay, by which her mother had earned the few pence that eked\nout her father's scanty wages.\n\nTo keep the house straight, the good man found himself obliged to\ntake another wife; and one day he brought home the tall Sennal,\nand told Ottilia she was to be her mother.\n\nWhen poor little Ottilia heard the tall, hard, bony woman called\n\"her mother,\" she burst out into passionate tears, and declared she\nshould never be her mother, and she would never pay her obedience!\n\nNow the tall Sennal was not a bad woman, but she was angry when the\nchild set herself against her; and so there was continual anger between\nthe two. When she told Ottilia to do any thing, Ottilia refused to\ndo it, lest she should be thought to be thereby regarding her as\nher mother, which seemed to her a kind of sacrilege; and when she\ntried to do any of the work of the house, her childish inexperience\nmade her do it in a way that did not suit the tall Sennal's thrift,\nso there was nothing but strife in the house. Yet the good father\ncontrived, when he came home of an evening, to set things straight,\nand make peace; and though Ottilia had little pleasure, like other\nchildren of her years, yet she had a good woollen frock to keep out\nthe cold, and bread and cheese and milk enough to drive away hunger,\nand, what she valued most, a father's knee to sit on of an evening in\nthe well-warmed room, while he kissed her and told her weird stories\nof the days long gone by.\n\nBut a day came--a day darkened by a terrible storm--on whose evening\nno father came home. The long Sennal went out with the neighbours\nwith lanterns and horns, but the fierce winds extinguished their\nlights and drowned the sound of their horns; and Ottilia knelt by\nthe side of her father's chair, praying and crying.\n\nShe prayed and wept, and only slept a little now and then, all through\nthe night; and in the morning some carters came in, and brought\nher father's dead body, which they had found on their mountain way,\nunder the snow, where it lay buried.\n\nBut Ottilia still knelt by her father's chair, and felt like one\nin a dream, while they put him in his coffin and carried him to the\nchurchyard ground, and the sad bells mourned.\n\n\"Go, child, and feed the pig!\" exclaimed the harsh voice of the tall\nSennal--and it sounded harsher than ever now, for there was none left\nto apply the curb. \"Crying's all very well for a bit; but you're not\ngoing on like that all your life, I suppose?\"\n\nOttilia felt her helplessness, and therefore resented the\nadmonition. Without stopping to consider its reasonableness, she\nretorted, fiercely,--\n\n\"'Child!' I am no child of yours! I've told you so before, a thousand\ntimes; and it's not because my father's dead that you're going to\ncome over me. You think you'll make me forget him by forbidding me\nto cry for him; but never, never will I forget him! nor shall you\nforget how he made you behave properly to me!\"\n\nThe tall Sennal had more patience with her than might have been\nexpected, and said no more for that time; but Ottilia was not won by\nher forbearance, and only reckoned it as a victory.\n\nIt was strife again the next day, and the next, and there was no good\nfather to make peace. And at last the tall Sennal's patience fairly\ngave way, and one day, in her provocation, she drove the child from\nthe door, and bid her never come under her eyes again!\n\nHer anger cooled, she could have recalled the words, but Ottilia was\nalready far away up the mountain-path, and out of sight, gone she\nknew not whither.\n\nOttilia had no experience of want, and knew not what it was to be\nalone upon the mountains; all her full heart felt at the moment was,\nthat it would be a boon to get away from the reproaches her conscience\ntold her were not undeserved, and be alone with her parent's memory.\n\nThus she wandered on, with no more consciousness of her way than just\nto follow it to the spot where her father died, and which had been\nmarked by pious custom with a wayside cross, on which was painted in\nvivid strokes the manner of his end.\n\nOttilia gazed at the cruel scene till fresh tears started to her eyes,\nand she threw herself on the ground beside it, and cried till she knew\nno more where she was. Then it seemed to her as if the ground were\nagain covered with snow, and that from under it she heard her father's\nvoice; and he talked to her as he used to talk of an evening by the\nfireside, when she was on his knee after work and he made her peace\nwith the tall Sennal. And now he brought home to her all her naughty,\nsenseless ways, not scolding without reason, but making all allowance\nfor the filial love which had been at the bottom of the strife. Ottilia\nseemed to herself to be listening to him with great attention, but her\nheart misgave her. She was ready to own now that she had been very\nwrong, very unreasonable, and she felt really sorry for it all--so\nsorry that, had her home still been his, she felt that she could have\nbrought herself to obey Sennal, so that she might not grieve him; but\nnow--now that he was not there--suppose he should require of her that\nshe should go back now and live with the tall Sennal, all alone! But\nhe did not require it of her; or, at all events, in her excitement\nshe woke with his last words sounding in her ear, which were nothing\nmore severe than, \"Put your trust in God, and all will yet be well.\"\n\nThe sun had already sunk behind the mountains, the chill night air\nbegan to penetrate Ottilia's clothing, and hunger stared her in the\nface. She felt very humble now, but she had no mind to go back. She\nrose and walked on, for numbness, as of death, was creeping over her,\nand she knew the mountain-folk said that to yield to that lethargy\nof cold was death.\n\nOn she walked, and on, and the darkness gathered thicker and\nthicker round her; but she thought of her guardian angel, and she\nwas not afraid. Still the way was weary, and the air was keen, and\nher strength began to fail. Then suddenly, on a neighbouring peak,\nshe descried the broken outline of a castellated building standing\nout against the now moonlit sky.\n\nGathering fresh force from hope, she picked her way over steep and\nstone, guiding her steps by the friendly light which beamed from a\nturret window. She had had time to realize her whole desolation. If\nheaven vouchsafed her another chance of finding a home, she mentally\nresolved, she would behave so as to win its blessing, with all\nher might.\n\nWhen at last she reached the castle-gate her courage once more began\nto fail--what would the great people at the castle say to a poor\nlittle half-starved peasant-girl, who came without friend or warrant\nto disturb their rest? \"Where is your trust in Providence?\" said\na voice within, which sounded like a memory of her father's, and\nrekindled her courage.\n\nA horn hung beside the broad portal; and when, after many timorous\nefforts, Ottilia had succeeded in making a note resound, she stood\nanxiously wondering what stern warder or fierce man-at-arms would\nanswer the summons.\n\nNone such appeared, however. But after some moments of anxious waiting,\nthe window whence the friendly light beamed was opened, with noise\nenough to make her look up, and then--what do you think she saw?\n\nNothing but a Death's Head looking out of the window! Almost before\nshe had time to be frightened, it asked her, in a very kindly voice,\nwhat was her pleasure.\n\n\"A night's lodging and a bit of bread, for the love of Christ!\" said\nOttilia, faintly; and then she looked up again at the Death's Head,\nand she could not resist a sense of horror and faintness that crept\nover her. \"Put your trust in God,\" whispered her father's voice,\nand she made an effort to stay her teeth from chattering together.\n\nMeantime, the Death's Head had answered cheerily enough, \"Will you\npromise to carry me up here again faithfully, if I come down and draw\nthe bolt for you, and let you in?\" and scarcely knowing what she said,\nOttilia gave an assent.\n\n\"But think what you are saying, and swear that I can rely on you,\"\npersisted the Death's Head, \"for, you see, it is a serious matter\nfor me. I can easily roll down the steps, but there are a good many\nof them, and I can't get up again by myself.\"\n\n\"Of course you may rely on me,\" now answered Ottilia, for she saw\nit was but her bounden duty to perform this return of kindness--and\nconscience seemed to have a reproach for her courageous alacrity,\nsaying, \"The tall Sennal never required of you any thing so hard as\nthis.\" \"I know she didn't,\" answered Ottilia, humbly; \"and this is\nmy punishment.\"\n\nAll this time the Death's Head was coming rumbling down the stone\nstairs--and a hard, dismal sound it was. Clop, clop, clop, first round\nthe turret spiral; then r-r-r-r-r-roll along the long echoing corridor;\nand then, clop, clop, clop once more all down the broad main staircase;\nthen another r-r-r-r-r-roll; and finally, klump! bump! it came against\nthe massive door.\n\nOttilia felt her heart go clop, clop, clop, clop, too, but she\nstruggled hard; and the cold, and the faintness of hunger made her\nyet feel rejoiced to hear the Death's Head take the bolt between its\ngrinning teeth and draw it sharply back. The great door flew open,\nand Ottilia trod timidly within the welcome shelter. The memory of\nher father's fate was fresh upon her, and the Death's Head was less\nterrible than the pitiless snow.\n\nNot without some difficult mental struggles Ottilia faithfully\nfulfilled her promise. A temptation, indeed, came to let the skull\nlie. It could not pursue her--it could not possibly climb up all those\nstairs, though it could roll down them; besides, it had declared\nits incapacity for the task. She could let it lie and enter into\npossession of the castle--it was clear there was no one else there,\nor the skull would not have put itself in danger by coming to the\ndoor. But honest little Ottilia repelled the thought with indignation,\nand, bending down, she picked up the skull, and carried it carefully\nup the stairs folded in her apron.\n\n\"Lay me on the table,\" said the Death's Head, when they got into\nthe turret-chamber where the light was; \"and then go down into the\nkitchen and make a pancake. It won't be for want of eggs and flour\nand butter if it is not good, for they are there in plenty.\"\n\n\"What! go all the way down to the kitchen alone, in this great\nstrange place?\" said poor little trembling Ottilia to herself. \"This\nis worse than any thing the tall Sennal ever gave me to do indeed;\"\nbut she felt it was a punishment and a trial of her resolution,\nand she started to obey with brave determination.\n\nIt was a harder task even than she had imagined, for if the Death's\nHead was safe up-stairs in the turret tower, the \"cross-bones\" were\nat large in the kitchen, and would get in her way whatever she turned\nto do.\n\nTrue, her impulse for a moment was to turn and scream, and run away,\nbut there came her father's voice, bidding her trust in God, \"And\nbesides,\" she said to herself, \"what is there so very dreadful about\nthe sight of dead bones, after all? and what harm can they do me?\" So\nshe took no notice of what was going on around her, but beat her eggs\nand mixed her batter, and put it on to fry, till the appetizing odour\nand the warmth of the fire brought back life and renewed her courage.\n\nWhen Ottilia brought the pancake up into the turret-room, and laid the\ndish with it on the table, she observed that the side of the pancake\nwhich was turned towards the skull became black, while that nearest\nherself retained its own golden colour; so that her curiosity was\npiqued, and she was much inclined to ask about it, but she managed\nto keep quiet and eat her share in silence. When she had finished\nshe took the dish and washed it up, and put all away carefully; and\nshe was just feeling very tired when the Death's Head said to her,\n\"If you go up that staircase on the left, you will come to a little\nbedroom where you may sleep. About midnight a skeleton will come to\nyour bedside, and try to pull you out of bed; all you have to do is\nnot to be afraid of it, and then it can do you no harm.\"\n\nSo Ottilia thanked the skull, and went up to bed. She had not been in\nbed more than three hours when she heard a great noise and rattling\nin the room, much like the noise the cross-bones had made in the\nkitchen while she was cooking the pancake. Then she heard the skull\ncall up to her, \"It is just midnight--remember you have only to be\nbrave!\" And as it spoke she saw a great skeleton come and stand in\nthe bright moonbeam by her bedside! It stretched one of its long bare\narms out towards her, and pulled off the bed-clothes with one bony\nhand and seized her by the hair with the other. But Ottilia listened\nfor her father's voice bidding her put her trust in Providence; and\nshe remained quite quiet in her bed, giving no sign of fear. When the\nskeleton found that she was so brave, it could do nothing against her,\nbut, after two or three ineffectual tugs, turned and went away; and she\nsaw nothing more of it, but slept out the rest of the night in peace.\n\nWhen she woke the next morning the bright sun was pouring cheerfully\ninto the room, and by the bedside, where the skeleton had stood the\nnight before, was a beautiful form of a woman, all clothed in white\nand surrounded by golden rays, to whom Ottilia said, \"What do you\nwant me to do, bright lady?\"\n\nAnd the vision answered, \"I was the mistress of this castle, who, for\nmy pride and vanity, was condemned to dwell in my bare bones on the\nsame spot where I had sinned by my extravagance in dress, and other\nwanton habits, until one should come, for the sake of whose thrifty,\nhumble ways, and steadfast trust in God, I should be set free.\n\n\"This you have accomplished, and now I can go to my rest; while,\nin gratitude, I endow you with this castle and all its lands and\nrevenues.\"\n\nWith that the bright form disappeared; and a moment afterwards Ottilia\nsaw, through the window, a milk-white dove winging its upward flight\ntowards heaven.\n\nSo Ottilia became a rich countess, and mistress of the lordly castle\nwhich she had entered as a suppliant. But no sooner was she installed\nthan she sent for the long Sennal; and, having besought her pardon\nfor all the trouble she had given her, begged her to come up to the\ncastle and be with her. So they lived very happily together for the\nrest of their lives.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWO CASKETS.\n\n\nIt was a summer holiday; the sun shone with burning rays on the\nnewly-mown banks; the roads and paths seemed knee-deep with dust;\nthe flowers by the wayside hung their heads, as if praying for the\nrefreshing shower; the very waters of the streamlet were heated as\nthey passed along, and Franzl, lying indolently on its bank, plunged\nhis hands beneath its bright surface, but found no cooling. With a\npeevish exclamation, he rose and sauntered away, and wished there\nwere no holidays.\n\n\"Nay, don't wish that!\" said a gentle fair-haired maiden by his side;\n\"and just on this one, too, which I have been longing for, to fill\nthe basket I made for mother with fresh strawberries from the wood.\"\n\n\"Not a bad idea of yours, Walburga; they all call you the 'wise'\nWalburga,\" replied Franzl. \"There's shade in the wood, and the\nstrawberries will be cooler and more refreshing than this nasty\nstream.\"\n\nAnd with that he strolled away towards the wood.\n\nThe cottage of Franzl and Walburga was nestled into the side of a steep\nhill, the summit of which was mantled with a forest of lofty pines;\nand up the precipitous path, which wound past the very chimneys of\nthe cottage, Franzl now strolled alone, without troubling himself\nto offer his hand to the patient little maiden who toiled painfully\nbehind him, with many a slip upon the loose stones and sunburnt moss.\n\nThis was Franzl's character. He was always thus: his own amusement,\nhis own enjoyment, and his own ease, were his sole care. Nor had the\nexample of Walburga's loving thoughtfulness for others any effect\nupon him. If he took any notice of her at all, it was only to laugh\nand rail at her for it, till her silence shamed his reproaches.\n\nAt the pinnacle of the path there was a venerable stone cross, shaded\nfrom the weather by a little pent-house covered with ivy. Walburga\nknelt before it as she passed, and prayed for help to be always a\ngood, obedient child, and a blessing to her dear parents. Franzl\nraised his hand to his cap mechanically, because it was the custom,\nbut no holy thought crossed his mind.\n\n\"At last there is some coolness after all this horrid heat! and now\nwe are close to those nice refreshing strawberries.\" These were his\nonly ideas.\n\nTo Walburga, as she knelt, there came sweet lessons she had been\ntaught to associate with the cross--of abnegation of self, obedience\nto higher powers, and loving devotion to others.\n\nFranzl looked with all his eager eyes to discern the bright red\nberries where the shade lay diapered with the light darting between\nthe thick clothing of the pine-trees, without so much as casting a\nglance at the sacred token.\n\n\"Oh, what a splendid haul!\" he cried, and plunged through the thick\nleafage to where the ripe, rich berries clustered closest, and,\nwithout troubling himself to learn whether Walburga was as well\nsupplied, began helping himself to his heart's content.\n\nWalburga lined her basket with fresh green leaves, and laid the\nstrawberries in tasteful order upon them, only now and then taking\nthe smallest and most worthless for herself.\n\nThough possessed with different objects, both were equally eager in\nthe pursuit, and they pushed deeper and deeper into the thick pine\nforest, Walburga always keeping near Franzl, by reason of her tender,\nconfiding spirit, which loved to be near those dear to her, though he,\nintent on his own gratification, had no cheerful word to enliven her.\n\nAt last they came to where the dark pines closed thick overhead--so\nthick that no golden rays pierced through; all was shade and\nsilence. But here the strawberries were no longer ripe and red, for\nthere was no sun to bring them to maturity, so Franzl peevishly turned\nto go, and Walburga followed gently behind. Suddenly their progress\nwas arrested by a bright light--brighter than the burning summer\nsun shining beneath the gloom of the dark pines--and in the centre\nof that light stood a beautiful queen, and the light seemed to come\nfrom the diadem on her forehead and the garments that encompassed her!\n\n\"What are you doing here?\" she said, in soft sweet accents, addressing\nherself to Walburga.\n\nAnd Walburga, dropping her eyelids with maiden modesty, replied, hardly\nable to force her voice above a whisper, \"Gathering strawberries for\nmother dear.\"\n\nThe beautiful Lady smiled a smile of approval; and the bright light\nseemed brighter when she smiled, and a sweet and balmy breeze stirred\nthe air when she spoke again.\n\n\"Here, my child,\" she said, \"take this casket;\" and she handed her\na casket made just like the strawberry-basket she had woven for her\nmother, only it was all of pure gold filigree, and, in place of the\npiled-up strawberries, it had a lid of sparkling carbuncles. \"Take\nthis, my child; and when you open it think of me.\"\n\n\"And what are you doing?\" she said, with something less of mildness,\nto Franzl, who, having his hat full of strawberries, was so busy\ndevouring them that he had not even noticed the beautiful present\nhis sister had received.\n\nNor did he stop now even to reply to her; but between throwing away\none chuck and picking out another fruit, he muttered, rudely,--\n\n\"I should think you might see that, without asking!\"\n\nThe beautiful Lady looked at him sadly, and tears like pearls fell\nfast down her fair cheeks, as she gave him a dark iron casket, with\nthe same words she had used to Walburga.\n\nThe light disappeared, and the fair Lady was seen no more.\n\n\"Who can that bright Lady be? and what can these caskets be that\nshe has given us?\" said Walburga, timidly. \"Let us come home quick,\nand show them to mother;\" and she ran onwards gaily, calling out,\n\"Mother, mother dear, see what I have got!\"\n\n\"Stuff!\" replied Franzl; \"I'm not going to wait for that: I want to\nsee what's in them now.\" But Walburga had passed on out of hearing.\n\nHe pulled the lid off his dark iron casket; and immediately there\nwriggled out two great black ugly snakes, which grew bigger and longer,\ndancing round him; nor could he escape from their meshes. Then,\nfinally, they closed their coils tightly round him, and carried him\naway through the thick, sunless forest, and no one ever saw him again!\n\nMeantime Walburga was making her way home with all the speed she\ncould down the dangerous mountain track, her strawberry-basket in one\nhand and the golden casket in the other. Her mother sat spinning in\nthe luxuriant shade of the climbing plants over-shadowing the broad\ncottage-eaves.\n\n\"Mother, dear mother!\" cried the child; \"see what I have got. Here\nis a basket of fresh cool strawberries I have gathered for you in the\nwood, and here is a golden casket which a beautiful Lady brought me,\nwith a great shining light! But stop till Franzl comes home, for he\nis coming behind, and she gave him a dark iron casket too, and we\nwill open them both together; so eat the strawberries, mother dear,\ntill Franzl comes.\"\n\nThe mother kissed her child fondly, and stroked her fair, soft, curling\nhair, but turned her head and wept, for she knew what had befallen.\n\nBut Franzl came not; and when Walburga had sought him every where,\nshe said, \"He must be gone round by the woodman's track to meet father,\nso let us open the casket, mother dear.\"\n\nSo she put the casket in her mother's lap, and lifted the beautiful\ncarbuncle lid. And see! there flew thereout two tiny beings,\nall radiant with rainbow light, and they grew bigger and bigger,\nfluttering round her till they appeared two holy angels, who folded\nthe child softly in their arms, then spread their wings and flew away\nwith her, singing enchanting melodies, above the clouds!\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE PRUDENT COUNSELLOR.\n\n\nAlois Zoschg was a peasant of the Sarnthal; his holding was\ninconsiderable, but it sufficed for all his needs; his cottage was\nsmall, but his family consisted of only himself and his daughter,\nand they found room for all their requirements.\n\nKatharina was bright enough, however, to make any home happy. Though\nshe shared the cottage with her father alone, she never seemed to\nfeel the want of younger companions; thoughtful and prudent beyond her\nyears, and thrifty and notable with all the work of the place, she was\nat the same time always ready with her joke and her song. It was no\nwonder that her father doated on her, and looked forward all through\nthe day's toil to the evening spent in cheerful conversation with her.\n\nThere were thus the elements of a pleasant existence in Alois' lot,\nbut there were two disturbing causes also. One was his own temper,\nwhich was violent and ungovernable at times, when he was seriously\nprovoked. The other was the jealousy and animosity of a rich peasant\nneighbour, Andr\u00e4 Margesin, the owner of a considerable Hof [69]\nsituated at no great distance from Zoschg's cottage, auf der Putzen.\n\nCircumstances had constantly brought the two neighbours into collision;\nthe fault generally lay, in the first instance, on the side of the\nrich Andr\u00e4 Margesin, who was grasping and overbearing, but Alois Zoschg\nonce roused, would never let a quarrel rest, and his irritability and\nrevengeful spirit were oftentimes enough to disturb the peace of the\nwhole neighbourhood. No one could say where such quarrels might have\nended, what crimes might perhaps have been the result, but for the\nwise interposition of Katharina, who knew how to soothe her father's\nruffled spirit without ever exceeding the limits of filial respect,\nas well as how to conciliate the rich neighbour, without condescending\nto the use of any servile arts.\n\nBy her extraordinary good sense and good temper alone, she would,\ntime after time, bring both the men back to sober reason from the\nhighest reach of fury.\n\nOnce, however, they had a dispute which was beyond her competence to\ndecide for them, for it involved a question of law. Andr\u00e4 Margesin\naccused Alois Zoschg of an encroachment, while Alois Zoschg maintained\nhe was justified in what he had done, by prescriptive right. The\ndispute raged high, but all Katharina could do in this case to restore\npeace, was to exact a promise from both parties that they would cease\nfrom all mutual recrimination, and carry the matter to be decided\nfor them by the judge in Botzen.\n\nWhen the day of hearing came on, the two disputants went up to Botzen\nto plead their cause; but each was so determined not to give way,\nand had so much to say in defence of his own position, and to the\ndisparagement of his antagonist, that they carried their pleadings on\nfor six days, and yet there seemed no chance of arriving at a decision\nwhich should be thoroughly justified by the evidence, so contradictory\nwas it. At last, the judge, getting tired of the prolonged controversy,\nand finding it impossible to moderate the virulence of the combatants,\ntold them that he could have no more wrangling, they had so confused\nthe case with their statements and counter-statements, that it was\nimpossible to say which of them was right, or, rather, which of them\nwas least in the wrong; but he gave them one chance of obtaining a\ndecision of the matter, and that was by accepting a test, which he\nwould propound, of their ability and judgment, and whichever succeeded\nin that, he should pronounce was the one who was in the right in the\noriginal pleading.\n\nThe rivals looked somewhat disconcerted at this mode of procedure,\nbut, as they found they could not get the affair decided on any other\nterms, they at last agreed to accept the proposal.\n\n\"You must tell me, then,\" said the judge, \"by to-morrow morning at\nthis hour, what is that which is the Strongest, the Richest, and\nthe most Beautiful;\" with these words he left the judgment-seat,\nand the two peasants were left standing opposite each other, looking\nvery foolish, for they both thought that it would be impossible ever\nto answer such a question.\n\nAfter a few moments' consideration, however, Andr\u00e4 Margesin, who\nwas a very vain man, bethought himself of an answer which, to his\nmind, seemed indisputably the right one. \"To be sure! Of course! I\nwonder I didn't see it at once! There can be no doubt about it!\" he\nexclaimed, aloud; and clapping his hands, and making other triumphant\ngesticulations, he stalked off homewards, telling all his friends\nthat he had no doubt of the result.\n\nBut poor Alois Zoschg, the more he thought, the more puzzled he got,\nand the boasts of Andr\u00e4 Margesin only made him more furious. There\nhe stood, crying out against the judge, and against his ill-luck,\nagainst his poverty and the opulence of Margesin, till it became\nnecessary to close the court, and his friends prevailed on him to\ngo home. But all the way his passion grew more and more outrageous,\nand by the time he reached his cottage he was raging like a maniac;\nthe other men could do nothing with him, and slunk away one by one,\nsome in disgust, some in despair.\n\nIt was now Katharina's turn; and Katharina came out to meet him with\nher brightest smile and her filial greeting, just as if he had been\nin the best humour in the world.\n\nBut, for the first time, the sight of Katharina seemed rather to\nincrease than allay his anger; for he found her dressed in all her\nfestal attire--a proceeding which was quite out of character with\nhis present disposition.\n\nThere was he, worn out with the long dispute, the weariness of the\ndelayed decision, the provocation of his enemy's insulting mien,\nand still more, perhaps, by his own ill-humour; and there she stood,\nall smiles and bright colours, as for a joyful occasion--the white\nStotzhaube [70] coquettishly set on her braided hair, the scarlet\nbodice tightly embracing her comely shape, with \"follow-my-lads\n[71]\" streamers from her shoulder-knot, the bright red stockings\nshowing under her short black skirt, and the blue apron over it,\nin place of the white apron of working days! Could any thing be more\nincongruous? was it not enough to increase his madness?\n\nNevertheless, Katharina's judgment so uniformly approved itself to\nhis better reason, that, the first impulse passed, he gulped down\nthe rising exclamation of annoyance until he had heard what Katharina\nhad to say.\n\n\"Well, father, so you're all right! and I'm the first to congratulate\nyou,\" she cried, and flung her arms round him with an embrace,\nof which, even in his present state of excitement, he could hardly\nresist the tenderness and effusion, and as if she did not perceive\nthe traces of his ill-humour.\n\n\"'Right,' wench! what mean you? all wrong you should say.\"\n\n\"No, no, I mean it is all right; and it only remains for you to hear\nit pronounced by the judge to-morrow--and haven't I put on my gala\nsuit to celebrate your success?\"\n\n\"Success! speak! what mean you?\" cried Alois, eagerly, his stormy\nvexation melting away before the sunbeam of her encouragement.\n\n\"Why, what has the judge told you to do, to decide the case?\" asked\nKatharina, who had heard it all from a neighbour who came home hours\nbefore, while Alois was still standing perplexed in the court.\n\n\"That I should tell him by to-morrow morning,\" replied Alois, softened\nalready by her consoling manner, \"what it is which is the strongest,\nthe richest, and the most beautiful--and how am I ever to guess all\nthat? And what's more,\" he continued, relapsing into his former state\nof vexation, \"that fellow Andr\u00e4 Margesin has guessed it--guessed it\nalready! and is gone off proclaiming his triumph!\"\n\n\"No, father!\" exclaimed Katharina, with a mocking laugh, all of fun,\nhowever, not of scorn; \"you don't mean to say you believe that great\nbully Andr\u00e4 Margesin could have guessed the right answer?\"\n\n\"But he said so! he went off telling every one so,\" rejoined Alois,\npositively.\n\n\"Oh, you dear, good, simple father! do you really believe it is so\nbecause he boasts of it? Do rest easy; he's not got it.\"\n\n\"Well, but if he hasn't, I haven't either. How am I to guess such\ncaptious absurdities? Why couldn't the man judge the thing on its\nmerits, instead of tormenting one to this extent?\" and Alois was\ngetting cross again.\n\n\"Why, it is the best chance in the world, you couldn't have been\nmore favoured! As to Andr\u00e4, he'll never guess it. Now just think what\nanswer you'll give.\"\n\n\"Oh, I should never guess any, if I thought till doomsday! But\nyou\"--and he started with the clever thought--\"you, of course, who\nalways find a way out of every thing--what do you say?\"\n\n\"Why,\" answered Katharina, readily, \"what is Stronger than the\nearth on which we stand, which bears up our houses and buildings,\nour rocks and mighty mountains, which all our united efforts could\nnot suffice to move one inch from its place, and on which we all rest\nsecure, confident that none is strong enough to displace it? What more\nBeauteous than spring, with its fresh, soft tints on sky and mountain,\non alp [72] and mead, on blossom and flower--spring, with its promise\nand its hope? And what Richer than autumn, with its gifts which make\nus glad for all the year--its bursting ears of grain, its clustered\ngrapes, its abundant olives and luscious fruits?\"\n\n\"Katharina, girl, I believe you've found it!\" said her father, with\nenthusiasm. \"My bonny girl has saved me this time also!\" and he clasped\nher in his arms. Though misgivings would come back when he recalled\nAndr\u00e4's assurance, he yet went to bed happy in the consciousness of\nat least having a good chance of not being beaten.\n\nIn the morning he was up betimes, and, having taken great pains to\nlearn what he had to say from Katharina, who walked a good stretch\nof the way through the valley with him, he arrived at the court in\ntolerably good humour.\n\nAndr\u00e4 was there before him, and in high good humour too; taking for\ngranted that, as the richer and more important man, and, moreover, as\nthe victor (so he felt assured), he had the right to speak first. As\nsoon as the judge had taken his seat, and even before he had called\non him for his answer, he began,--\n\n\"Sir judge, I have the answer to your enigma; and as soon as I have\ntold it, you will please give judgment in my favour. It was indeed easy\nenough to find, so I claim no merit in the discovery,\" he added, with\nthe pride that apes humility. \"The most Beautiful thing on earth is\nmy wife, of course; the Strongest, are my oxen; and the Richest, am I.\"\n\nThe judge listened without moving a muscle of his countenance, as\nbecame a judge, and for those who were too obtuse to perceive the fine\nirony of the smile with which he bowed to the speaker at the conclusion\nof his harangue--and among these was certainly Andr\u00e4 himself--it\nseemed as if he was quite satisfied with the answer. Nevertheless,\nhe turned to Alois, and said,--\n\n\"Well, my man, and what is your answer?\"\n\n\"But the judgment, good sir judge! would your honour be pleased to\npronounce the sentence in my favour, seeing I have given your worship\nthe answer?\" interposed Andr\u00e4 Margesin, fussily.\n\n\"Gently and fairly!\" replied the judge; \"wait only a little: we must\nhear what friend Alois has to say. He might have an answer, you know;\nand, anyhow, we must give him the opportunity.\"\n\nAndr\u00e4 chafed, but could not resist; and, at an encouraging word from\nthe judge, Alois stood forward and repeated word for word the answer\nKatharina had taught him.\n\nThough the judge had preserved his imperturbability through the\nexpression of Andr\u00e4's silly bombast, this answer of Alois was\ntoo much for his composure. He had only proposed the enigma as\nthe means of getting rid of a perplexing case. He had no idea but\nthat both peasants would bring an answer of which he could easily\nexpose the folly; and thus, neither having fulfilled the prescribed\nterms, the case would fall through of itself, and he be saved from\nfurther trouble. But he saw nothing to reply to Alois' solution\nof his question, nor any means of escaping from giving judgment in\nhis favour. Every body acquiesced in the justice of the decision;\nand even Andr\u00e4 himself had nothing to say, but, crestfallen, and in\nvery different style from his confidence of the day before, he made\nhis exit while people were yet engaged with the discussion of Alois'\nsuccess, so as to avoid alike scorn and condolence.\n\nThe session over, the judge called Alois aside, and inquired how he\nhad come to find so accurate an answer; upon which Alois, who burnt\nto proclaim the merit of his child, at once referred the honour\nto Katharina.\n\n\"That is it, is it?\" replied the judge. \"I have often seen the girl at\nchurch, and am not surprised that so comely a form is inhabited by so\nclever a mind. Now, go home, and tell your daughter that if she finds\nout the way to come to me without any clothes on, and yet not naked;\nnot by day, and yet not by night; and by a way which shall be neither\na high-road nor yet a by-path, I shall take the opportunity of her\nso coming to ask her to be my wife.\"\n\nAlois lost no time in returning home to tell the good news to his\ndaughter. \"I suppose you'll find one of your clever ways of doing it,\nthough, for myself, I confess I don't understand a word of it.\"\n\n\"But do you really mean that that good, noble, handsome judge really\nmeans to make his wife of a poor peasant girl like me?\"\n\n\"He might do worse,\" answered her father, with archness and pride. \"But\nthere is no doubt he was in earnest. You should have seen the fire\nin his eye when he spoke!\"\n\n\"In that case, you may depend I will find the way to fulfil his\ndirections: trust me for that!\"\n\nNor was she long in finding a way which satisfied the judge\ncompletely. She took off all her clothes, and then covered herself\nwith fishing-nets; this for the first condition. Then, for the second,\nshe timed her journey in the dusk of evening, which is neither called\nday nor night; and, for the third, she had previously had the road\ncovered with boards, and upon these she walked, so that she neither\ntrod the high-road nor yet a by-path.\n\nDelighted at acquiring such a prize, and having so clever a maiden for\nhis future companion through life, the judge married Katharina before\nthe end of the month. There were great rejoicings at the wedding, to\nwhich all the country-side was invited; and then the poor peasant girl\nwas installed in the judge's house. The judge, however, had exacted of\nher one condition, which was that she should never interfere with any\nof her clever suggestions in any case brought before him for decision,\nbut let justice take its free and uninterrupted course.\n\nYears passed by happily enough. The judge rejoiced more and more\nevery day over the wisdom of his choice, and Katharina sedulously\nobserved the condition imposed upon her, and never interfered with\nher husband's dealings in the court.\n\nNevertheless, it happened one day that a peasant whom she had known\nfrom her infancy had a case before the judge which was nearly as\nperplexed as that of her father had been, and, despairing of making\nhis right apparent, the peasant came to Katharina, and begged her,\nby their lifelong friendship, to give him one of those good counsels\nfor which she had been so famous at home in the days gone by.\n\nKatharina urged her promise to her husband, and for a long time refused\nto break it; but the wily peasant contrived to work on her vanity so\neffectually, that at last, in an evil moment, she consented this once\nto give her advice, exacting first a promise he would never tell any\none she had done so.\n\nThe case was this. Her friend's Senner [73] had been visited in the\nnight by a Saligen Fraulein [74], who had promised to milk his cow for\nhim, and every one knew that when a Saligen Fraulein milked a cow,\nit gave three times as much milk as the wont. But being a poor man,\nand having only one cow, he eked out his living by taking in cows to\ngraze on his allotment; and he also only had one milking-pail. The\nSaligen Fraulein, therefore, when she had milked his pail full, had\nbeen obliged to take a pail belonging to the man to whom the other\ncows belonged, who was a rich man, and had a store of all sorts of\nutensils. But the milk being in one of his pails, his Senner swore\nthat it had been milked from one of his cows, and refused to give\nit up, though he had no right to it whatever; and he had declined\npayment for the use of the pail.\n\nThough the case had been argued since the first thing that morning,\nthey were no nearer arriving at a decision. Now the disputants had been\nordered to stand back while another case was called, but it would come\non again immediately; and in the meantime the poor peasant entreated\nKatharina's counsel as his only chance of rescuing his milk before\nit turned sour.\n\n\"I see one means, I think, of bringing him to his senses,\"\nsaid Katharina, after she had yielded to her poor friend's\nimportunity. \"When your case is called on again, show as much\nindifference about the result as you have hitherto shown anxiety;\nthen tell your adversary that during this interval, which you spent\nin the shade of the woods, a Saligen Fraulein had appeared to you\nand advised you not to use any of the milk the one who appeared to\nthe Senner had milked for you, because she was a mischievous one,\nand the milk she milked was bewitched, so that all who drank of it,\nor of any milk mixed with it--were it only one drop of it--would be\nturned into asses. Then add, 'But of course, if your pailful is really\nthe milk of your own cow, you have nothing to fear; so there's an\nend of the dispute.' Then he will probably be so frightened by the\nthreat of this calamity that he will probably have nothing more to\ndo with the pail; and that will suffice to prove that it is not the\nmilk of his cow, and expose his deceit.\"\n\nThe peasant was so delighted with the wise counsel that he hardly\nknew how to thank his benefactress, and readily gave her the promise\nshe required of not letting any one know he had even seen her.\n\nHe had scarcely got back to the court when the case was called on\nagain. The peasant carried out the advice he had received with great\nshrewdness, and found it answer completely. Every body applauded\nthe craft by which he had confounded his would-be oppressor, and\nthe judge himself was very much pleased to see the end of such a\ntroublesome case.\n\nA few minutes' thought, however, suggested to him that there was\nmore than a peasant's shrewdness in the matter, and he was not slow\nto discern the guiding of his wife in it; so he called the peasant\napart, and had little difficulty in wringing from the simple clown\na confession of who had been his prompter.\n\nThe discovery made the judge set off homeward in great anger. His wife\nhad broken her promise--the fundamental condition of their union;\nand he would have nothing more to say to her! Out of his house she\nmust go, whithersoever she would, but far away out of his sight.\n\nKatharina, who had so often calmed her father's anger by her prudent\nreasoning, exerted herself to the utmost to bring her husband back to a\nbetter mind; but in vain. And all the concessions he would yield were,\nto consent that they should eat their last dinner together, and that\nshe should take away with her one thing out of the house, whatever\nshe had most fancy for. It was not much to obtain when required to\npart for ever from her home, and her hopes, and all to which she had\ngrown united and attached--but it was all she could obtain.\n\nDinner-time came, and the judge, who was devotedly fond of his wife,\nseemed lost in sorrow at the calamity about to befall him; still he\nwould not yield. Though she caressed him and entreated him to forgive\nher, he still said he could not depart from his word, and he would\nnot allow her to speak of it. They sat down to their silent meal;\nand as the time of separation drew nearer he grew more sombre and\nsad, and at last determined to console himself with the red wine that\nsparkled by his side. Katharina encouraged him to drink, and as his\nbottle got exhausted deftly replaced it by a full one, so that he\nwas quite unconscious of the depth of his potations.\n\nPresently the steward came into the room ready to drive Katharina\nto whatever destination she should select, and, as he had heard it\nstipulated that she was to take with her whatever she liked best,\nproffered his services to assist in the removal--for she had won the\nrespect and affection of all her dependants, and they delighted to\nbe occupied for her.\n\nKatharina rose to depart, thanked the man for his attention, and,\nin answer to his question as to the object she would take with her,\npointed to her husband, who now lay helpless across his settle,\nhis head drooping over the table.\n\nThe steward could scarcely believe his eyes, but Katharina had a way\nof giving orders which did not admit of being questioned. The first\nsurprise over, too, it struck him as a capital device, and he entered\nheartily into the spirit of the scheme. With the help of a couple\nof serving-men the judge was deposited safely in the lumbering old\ncarriage, and Katharina having taken her place beside him, they drove\naway by her direction over one of the worst and most uneven roads in\nthe neighbourhood. The shaking of the vehicle presently awakened the\nsleeper, who was, of course, quite at a loss to conceive where he\nwas, but, perceiving that he cut a rather silly figure, was ashamed\nto ask his wife, who sat by his side as if there was nothing amiss,\nand said nothing.\n\nAt last his curiosity got the better of his self-respect, and he\nbegged her to tell him what all this trundling and shaking meant.\n\nKatharina in a few words recalled to him his cruel decree, at the\nsame time reminding him of his promise that she might take with her\nwhat she liked best, and, throwing her arms round him, asked him if\nthere could be any doubt as to what that could be.\n\nThe judge perceived that his wife had once more shown her sense\nand judgment, and was not sorry to find she had contrived this\nopportunity of making up their difference. On renewing her petition\nfor forgiveness, he frankly gave her his pardon; and they drove back\nhome to live together in love and union to the end of their days.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE GEESEHERDS.\n\n\nThere was once a peasant who had three sons, Karl, Stefan, and Josef;\nbut, as he was very poor, they often had scarcely enough to eat, and\nwere always complaining. So one day he told them that they should go\nout, one at a time, into the world, and see whether they could do\nbetter for themselves than he could do for them; and, having drawn\nlots which should go first, it fell upon the youngest.\n\nJosef was not altogether sorry to see a little of what the world was\nmade of, and started with break of day next morning on his travels. He\nwent begging about the country, but for a long time could find nothing\nto make a living by. At last he came to a splendid mansion on the\nborders of a large forest. When he asked his usual question, whether\nthere was any place vacant for him, the servants took him into the\nbig house; and, after conducting him through a number of apartments,\neach more beautiful than the other, he was ushered into a vast hall,\nall panelled round with carved wood, with windows of painted glass,\nand filled with handsome furniture. Reclining in an easy-chair, sat an\naged nobleman, the owner of the mansion, who, when he heard Josef's\nrequest, took compassion on him, and told him he would take him into\nhis service, beginning with giving him a very easy employment, and if\nhe proved himself faithful in that, he would promote him to something\nhigher. At first, then, he would only have to keep his geese; but\nthere was one condition he would bid him observe.\n\nJosef was so delighted with the prospect that he hastily interposed\na promise of obeying it, before it was even uttered.\n\nAnd that condition was, that if at any time he should hear any music\nor singing in the forest, he should never listen to it, however much\nhe might be inclined, for that if he did, he would inevitably lose\nhis place.\n\nJosef repeated his promise, and swore that he would never listen to\nthe music. He was then led down to the place where the other servants\nwere gathered for supper, and as there was a whole crowd of them,\nand plenty of good food and drink, Josef began to think that he had\nfallen on to his feet indeed!\n\nAfter supper, Josef was shown into a tidy little room as big as his\nfather's whole cottage, where was a nice little white bed, and a suit\nof clothes ready to put on when he got up. Though Josef liked good\nfood and a good bed, he was by no means an idle boy, but rose very\nearly in the morning for his new employment; and, having received\nfrom the cook his breakfast, and his wallet of provisions for the\nmidday meal, turned out the geese, and drove them before him to the\nmeadow skirting the forest.\n\nJosef had never seen so many geese together before, and all the\nmorning long he was never tired of looking at them, and counting them,\nobserving their ways, fancying he discerned various peculiarities\nin each, by which to know one from another henceforth; and he began\nto give them all different names. When one showed an inclination to\nstray, what fun it was to drive her back, and see her flap her great,\nsoft, white, awkward wings, and stretch out her great yellow bill,\nas with awkward gait she shambled back to the flock! So the morning\nwent by; and it was long past the hour of dinner before Josef found\nany need of it, but when he did, he was astonished at the abundant\nsupply which had been provided for him. \"Truly, I did well to come\nout into the world,\" he thought, as he lounged upon the greensward,\neating the good food. \"What a contrast between having this splendid\nmansion to live in, and my father's poor cabin; between the dry\ncrusts we had to eat there, and the princely food allowed to us here;\nbetween the toil and slavery there, and this easy kind of work, which\nmight more properly be called a pastime! My father thought to punish\nme for grumbling, he would be astonished if he could see what a fine\nexchange I have made!\" and he laughed aloud, though all alone. But\npresently the effects of the full meal, the heat of the afternoon, and\nthe excitement of his new position brought on sensations of lassitude\nand somnolence--and soon you might have seen him stretched upon the\ngrass at full length, and snoring to his heart's content.\n\nIt is uncertain how long he had slept, but erewhile his slumber was\ndisturbed by the sound of the most enchanting strains of music. Josef\nraised himself on his elbow, and listened; he had never imagined any\nthing so beautiful! and when he had listened a little while, he grew\nso rapt that he could not forbear going a little way into the forest\nto hear it better, and then a little farther, and farther, till, by\nthe time it ceased, he was a long way from his charge. Then, as he\nperceived this, for the first time he remembered the condition his\nmaster had laid upon him, and his own positive promise to observe\nit! In shame and confusion he hasted back; but in place of his\nsplendid flock of geese, there were but half a dozen, and those the\nworst favoured, to be seen! It was vain he called after them, and\ntore his hair, and ran hither and thither--no geese appeared! and as\nit began to get dark, he found his best plan was to hurry home with\nthe few that remained.\n\nWhen he arrived a servant was waiting to conduct him to the master. He\nno longer wore the benevolent smile with which he had first instructed\nJosef in the terms of his service. He looked so black and angry that\nthe boy was frightened to approach him--too frightened to find a word\nin his defence.\n\n\"I had pity on you,\" said the master, \"because you entreated me to\ntry you: you have broken your word, and I can trust you no more. I\ntold you the penalty; now you have chosen to incur it, you must go.\"\n\nJosef could do nothing at first but cry, as he contemplated this sudden\nextinction of his dreams of ease and plenty, but he took courage to\nthrow himself on his knees, and entreat one more trial. The master\nwas inexorable--only, as he was rich and generous, he would not let\nhim go away empty-handed, and he took out of a casket before him a\ngold pin, as a memorial of his good intention, and dismissed the boy\nwith a gesture which admitted of no further parleying.\n\nJosef was allowed to sleep in the mansion that night, but the next\nmorning, instead of carrying on his agreeable occupation of geeseherd,\nhe had to leave the place ignominiously, his rags being returned to him\nin place of the smart livery of the castle. Uncertain whither next to\nbend his steps, he determined to go home in the first instance and show\nhis gold pin, and then take a fresh start in search of another chance.\n\nAs he toiled up a steep Joch [75], feeling so thirsty that his eyes\nwent searching every where for a cottage where he might beg a sup of\nmilk, a hay-maker turned off the Hoch Alp [76] on to the road just\nin front of him, with a cartload of hay he was hastening to take\nhome before rain fell. But, for all his urging, the oxen could not\nturn the cart, and there it stuck in the edge of the road. Seeing\nour stout youth coming along, the man called to him to help him\nlift the wheel, promising him a bowl of milk in return. Josef was a\ngood-natured lad, and, as we have said, by no means indisposed for\nexertion, so he set to work with a will, and the team was very soon\nput in motion. He travelled on by the side of the cart, and when they\nreached the Hof for which it was destined, Josef received a bowl of\nmilk, which refreshed him for the rest of the journey.\n\nAs he got near his father's cottage he went to take out the gold\npin with glee, to have it ready to display. Great was his vexation,\ntherefore, at discovering he had it no longer--nor could his searching\nbring it back any more than the geese! Josef burst into tears,\nand joined the family meal at home, which was just prepared as he\narrived, with his head low bowed, as if he sought to hide himself\nfor very shame.\n\nWhen his father saw him in such melancholy plight, his compassion\nwarmed to him, and he asked him kindly what had befallen. Josef told\nall his adventures, crying afresh as he came to the narration of how\nhe had lost on the way the gold pin, to display which he had come\nhome before starting in search of another chance of employment.\n\n\"Such chances don't grow as thick as black-berries,\" said Stefan, the\nsecond son: \"instead of your going in search of another, I'll go to\nthe same grand house; and I won't lose such a fine situation for the\nsake of 'tweedle-dum,' I can tell you! And whatever I get for wages,\nyou may depend, I won't stick it in my belt where it is sure to be\nbrushed away, but on the brim of my hat, to be sure!\"\n\nJosef, who had had enough of trying to provide for himself, and was\nnot sorry to be at home again, even with its scanty means, made no\nobjection, and their father, thinking it well Stefan should have his\nexperience of life too, approved the plan.\n\nStefan set out next morning, therefore; and by following Josef's\ndirections soon discovered the stately palace for which he was\nbound. The noble owner received him as kindly as Josef, and sent\nhim out to the same employment, first binding him to observe the\nsame condition. Stefan readily promised to keep it, and was formally\ninstalled into his office of geeseherd.\n\nAll went well enough at first, as with Josef; but it was at an even\nearlier period of the day than with him that his curiosity was roused\nby the fairy-like music. Then he, too, followed it through the forest;\nand when it ceased at sound of the church bells ringing the Ave,\nhe found not more than three or four geese left of all his flock!\n\nOn his return the master was full of anger at his breach of trust,\nand inexorably resolved to turn him away; but not to let him go\nempty-handed, he gave him a little lamb to take home.\n\nStefan was pleased enough with his prize, but was somewhat embarrassed\nas to the manner of carrying it safely home. He had declared that\nwhatever he got he would bring home on his hat, and though he had\nnever thought of so embarrassing a present falling to him, at the\ntime he spoke, he resolved to keep his word, and so used his best\nendeavours to fix the little creature round the brim.\n\nHe carried it thus great part of the way in safety, but having to cross\na somewhat rapid stream, a projecting bough of a tree lifted his hat\nfrom his head--and both hat and lamb fell in, and were carried fast\naway by the torrent!\n\nStefan came back even more crestfallen than Josef; and, having told his\nstory, Karl, the eldest, with great indignation at the carelessness of\nhis brothers, declared that he would make the trial next. He would not\nstick his prize in his belt or his hat, not he! he would carry it by\na string, and then it couldn't get loose; and as for the music, he had\nno fear of being led away by that. Josef, indeed, had had some excuse,\nas the strains took him by surprise, but to be so foolish as Stefan,\nafter the warning example of another, was perfectly contemptible. He\ncouldn't be so silly as that, not he!\n\nHe started on his way betimes, and toiled along not without some\nmisgivings lest he should find so good a post already occupied by\nanother. But it was not so: the owner of the mansion gave him the same\nreception, the same charge, and the same warning as the other two;\nand, full of confidence in his superiority, he went forth to his work.\n\nThe weather was cool, and he had no need to seek the shade of the\nforest trees; and for more than a week he brought the full tale of\ngeese home day by day. \"What idiots those were to throw away their\nplace for the sake of a little music!\" he thought to himself one day\nlater. \"I told them I should not be so foolish--not I! I told them\nI shouldn't be led away by it, and I haven't been.\"\n\nBut it was hotter that day, and in the afternoon, when the sun's\npower was greatest--forgetting the warning of his brothers' example,\nor rather setting it at defiance, with the assurance that though he\nsought the shade he need not listen to the music--he crept within\nthe border of the cool forest, and lay down.\n\nHe had hardly done so when his senses were rapt by the delicious but\ndeceitful strains. \"The woods must be full of fairies!\" he cried;\n\"this can be no earthly music--I must follow it up and see what manner\nof instruments they are, for never on earth was heard the like!\" But\nas he went on, the music always seemed farther off, and farther again,\ntill at last the church bells rang the Ave, and the music ceased.\n\nThen Karl woke to a sense of his weakness and folly; and though he ran\nevery step of the way back to his geese, only two were there! Though\nhe had now found the same fate befall himself as his brothers, in all\nparticulars, yet he could not forbear searching for the lost geese;\nbut of course it was in vain, and he had to return to the castle\nwith but two. Nothing could look more miserable, or more ludicrous,\nthan this diminished procession--Karl at the head of his two geese,\nwho had gone out in the morning with such a goodly flock.\n\nHe would have gladly slunk away without exchanging a word with any\none, but he could not escape being taken before the master, who\nscolded him in the same words in which he had chided his brothers,\nbut gave him a fine rich cake to take home.\n\nThe cake was round, and it was very inconvenient to attempt to secure\nit by means of a string, but Karl had declared he would bring home\nhis reward that way, and so it was a point of honour with him to\ndo it. But passing by a Hof, on his way home, where was a large\nand powerful watch-dog on guard, he set off running to escape its\ngrip. This was the very way to attract the beast's notice, however;\nand off it set in pursuit, much faster than Karl's legs could carry\nhim away--and then, having jumped upon him and knocked him down,\nseized his cake, and devoured it before his eyes!\n\nKarl had now to go home as empty-handed as his brothers, and as full\nof tears; but his father comforted him, and checked the rising gibe\nof his youngers by reminding them that all had failed equally; so\nthey all joined in a good-humoured laugh in which there was nothing\nof bitterness.\n\nThe father then asked them if any of them wished to go out into\nthe world and seek fortune again; but they all agreed that there was\nnothing to be gained by the move, and that though there were positions\nwhich at first sight seemed more brilliant and more delectable than\ntheir own, yet that each had its compensatory trials, and that they\nwere best where God had placed them.\n\nHenceforth, however, they were ashamed of renewing their grumblings,\nbut, each making the best of his lot, they became noted as the most\ncontented and, therefore, happiest family of the whole valley.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nST. PETER'S THREE LOAVES [77].\n\n\nIn the days when our Lord and Saviour walked this earth with His\napostles, it happened one day that He was passing, with St. Peter\nfor His companion, through a secluded valley, and that discoursing,\nas was His wont, of the things of the Kingdom of God, and raising the\nmind of His disciple from the earthly to the heavenly, they noticed\nnot how the hours went by. Nevertheless, they had been walking since\ndaybreak over rough mountain tracks and across swollen torrents many\na weary mile, and had eaten nothing all day, for their way had led\nthem far from the haunts of men; but as noon came down upon them they\napproached the precincts of a scattered hamlet. The bells of all the\nlarge farm-houses were ringing to call in the labourers from the field\nto their midday meal, and announced a community of sensations in the\nworld around akin to those with which St. Peter had for a long time\npast been tormented. The heat increased, and the way grew more weary,\nand St. Peter found it more and more difficult to keep his attention\nalive to his Master's teaching.\n\nThe merciful Saviour was not slow to perceive what ailed His disciple,\nand kept on the look-out for any opportunity of satisfying him as\nanxiously as if the need had been His own; and thus, while St. Peter\nwas still wondering how long he would have to go on fasting, He\nremarked to him the smell of fresh-baked loaves proceeding from a\ncottage at the bottom of the valley.\n\nSt. Peter could as yet perceive neither the scent nor the\ncottage. Nevertheless, used as he was to trust his Lord's word\nimplicitly, he started at His bidding, following the direction pointed\nout just as if both had been patent to himself.\n\nThe way was so steep and rough that St. Peter, in his eagerness, had\nmany falls, but at last, without much damage, reached nearly the foot\nof the mountain range along the side of which they had been journeying;\nand then suddenly the smell of a wood fire, mingled with the welcome\nodour of fresh-baked bread, greeted him. The roof of the cottage\nwas just beneath his feet, and the smoke was curling up through the\nchimney, telling of a well-provided stove, burning to good purpose,\nclose at hand. One or two more winds of the road, and only one more\nslip over the loose stones, brought him to the door.\n\nA comely peasant wife opened it at his knock with a cheerful greeting:\n\"Gelobt sei Jesus Christus [78]!\"\n\nThe apostle, having given the customary response, \"In Ewigkeit! Amen,\"\nthe peasant wife asked him to come in and rest--an offer which\nSt. Peter gladly accepted.\n\nThe peasant woman wiped a chair, and presented it to him, and, with\nsome pleasant words about his journey, returned to her occupation at\nthe fire. The moment had just arrived when she should take her loaves\nfrom the oven, and nothing could smell more tempting to a man whose\nappetite was seasoned by a long walk in the fresh mountain air.\n\n\"Good woman, I come from far, and the whole of this blessed morning,\"\nhe exclaimed, speaking as one of the people, \"I have tasted\nnothing! ... nor my companion,\" he added, with some embarrassment\nlest he should seem encroaching, yet full of anxiety to provide for\nhis Master's needs as well as his own.\n\n\"Tasted nothing all this morning!\" exclaimed the compassionate peasant\nwife, scarcely leaving him time to speak; \"poor soul! Why didn't you\nsay so at first? Here, take one of these loaves; they are the best\nI have, and, if humble fare, are at all events quite fresh. And your\ncompanion too, did you say? Take one for him also;\" and then, as if\nshe found so much pleasure in the exercise of hospitality that she\ncould not refrain from indulging it further, she added, \"and take this\none too, if you will; maybe you may want it before the journey is out.\"\n\nSt. Peter thanked her heartily for her generosity, and hasted to take\nthe loaves to the Master, that He might bless and break them. But\nas they were hot, being just out of the oven, he had to wrap them in\nthe folds of his coarse grey mantle, to be able to hold them without\nburning his hands.\n\nAs he toiled up the steep, the thought came to him, \"It will most\nlikely be long before we have a chance of meeting with provisions\nagain, and I always seem to want food sooner than the Master; I might\nvery well keep this third loaf under my cloak, and then in the night,\nwhile He is lost in heavenly contemplation, and I am perishing with\nhunger, I shall have something to satisfy it. I do Him no wrong, for\nHe never feels these privations as I do--at all events,\" he added,\nwith some misgivings, \"He never seems to.\"\n\nWith that he reached the place where he had left the Saviour. He was\nstill kneeling beneath the shade of a knoll of pines. As St. Peter\napproached, however, though He was not turned so as to see him coming,\nHe rose, as if He knew of his presence, and, coming to meet him,\nasked him cheerfully what success he had in his catering.\n\n\"Excellent success, Lord,\" replied St. Peter. \"I arrived just at the\nright moment. The woman was taking the loaves out of the oven, and,\nbeing a good-hearted soul, she gave me one; and when I told her I\nhad a companion with me, she gave me another, without requiring any\nproof of the assertion; so come, and let us break our fast, for it\nis time.\" But he said no word about the third loaf, which he kept\ntight in a fold of his mantle under his arm.\n\nThey sat down on a rock by the side of a sparkling rivulet, hasting\nalong its way to swell the far-off river, and its cool crystal waters\nsupplied the nectar of their meal.\n\nSt. Peter, who had now long studied in the school of mortification\nof his Master, was quite satisfied with this frugal repast, and,\nno longer tortured by the cravings of nature, listened with all\nhis wonted delight and enthusiasm to every word which fell from the\nLord's lips, treasuring them up that not one might be lost. It was\ntrue that he could not suppress some little embarrassment when the\nthought of the third loaf occurred to him; \"But,\" he said, to himself,\n\"there could be no possible harm in it; the woman had clearly given it\nto him; his Lord didn't want it, and he was only keeping it for his\nneeds. True, if He were to suspect it, He would not quite like that;\nbut then, why should He? He never suspects any one.\"\n\nNever had the Saviour been more familiar, more confiding. St. Peter\nfelt the full charm of His presence and forgot all his misgivings,\nand the cause of them, too, in the joy of listening to Him. Then came\na friendly bird, and hopped round Him, feeding on the crumbs that had\nfallen. The Saviour, as He watched its eagerness, fed it with pieces\nfrom His own loaf. Another bird was attracted at the sight--another,\nand another, and another, till there was a whole flock gathered\nround. The Saviour fed them all, and yet He seemed to take His own\nmeal too.\n\n\"It is just as I thought,\" St. Peter reasoned with himself; \"His\nneeds are not as our needs. Decidedly I do Him no wrong in keeping\nthe loaf for my own.\" And he felt quite at ease.\n\nThe simple repast was at an end; the birds chirped their thanks and\nflew away; and the disciple and the Master rose from their rocky seat.\n\nSt. Peter, leaning on his staff, set out to resume the journey,\nbut the Lord called him back.\n\n\"Our Father in heaven has fed us well, shall we not thank Him as is\nour wont?\"\n\nSt. Peter laid aside his staff, and cheerfully knelt down.\n\n\"But as He has dealt with particular loving-kindness in the abundance\nwith which He has provided us this day, let us address Him with\narms outstretched, in token of the earnestness of our gratitude,\"\ncontinued the Saviour; and as He spoke He flung His arms wide abroad,\nas if embracing the whole universe and its Creator, with an expression\nof ineffable love.\n\nHe knelt opposite St. Peter, who was not wont to be slow in following\nsuch an exhortation.\n\n\"He only suggested it; He didn't command.\" reasoned St. Peter to\nhimself. \"I need not do it.\"\n\nBut a furtive glance he could not repress, met the Master's eye fixed\nupon him with its whole wonted affection--there was no resisting the\nappeal. With the spontaneity of habitual compliance, he raised his\narms after the pattern of his Lord; but the loaf, set free by the\nmotion, fell heavily to the ground beneath the Master's eye.\n\nThe Master continued praying, as though He had perceived nothing,\nbut St. Peter's cheeks were suffused with a glow of shame; and before\nthey proceeded farther he had told Him all.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWO COUSINS OF ST. PETER [79].\n\n\nSt. Peter had two young cousins whom he sought to bring up in the\nway of righteousness according to Christian doctrine. As they were\nvery docile, and listened gladly to his word, he strove to lead them\nin the way of all perfection; and to this end counselled them to give\nthemselves up entirely to serve God in a community of His handmaidens,\nwhere they should live for the Divine spouse of their souls, and for\nHim alone.\n\nThe work of the Church called St. Peter away from the East, and he\nwas already gone to establish the faith in Rome before the maidens\nhad decided as to their vocation. It was not till many years after\nthat St. Peter heard, to his surprise, on occasion of St. Timothy\ncoming to visit St. Paul in Rome, that while the youngest indeed had\nfulfilled his expectations, and had given herself up to the religious\nlife, the elder had married and established herself in the world,\nand become the mother of a large family.\n\nDuring his long confinement in the dark dungeon of the Mamertine\nprison, St. Peter's thoughts would often revert from the immense\ncares of his sublime office to the quiet hours he had passed in the\nlowly dwelling by the Lake of Tiberias, where his pious cousins had\nso often sat at his feet listening to his instructions. And he found\na peaceful pleasure in recalling the way in which they had responded\nto them; the spontaneity with which they had apprehended the maxims\nof the new religion; their fervour in applying them to their own rule\nof life; their readiness to go beyond what was bidden them, that so\nthey might testify their love for their Divine Master; their delight\nin all that reminded them of God and His law.\n\n\"And to think that one of them should have gone back from\nall this! should have been content to give up these exalted\naspirations! How sadly her ardour must have cooled! What could have\nworked this change?\" the apostle would muse, in his distress, and pray\nsilently for her forgiveness and guidance; but his thoughts would\nrevert with greater affection and satisfaction to the more favoured\nstate of the soul of the younger sister.\n\n\n\nIt was not long before the terrible decree of Nero consigning St. Peter\nto the death of the cross was pronounced, and from the height of the\nJaniculum he was received into the celestial mansion to keep the gate\nof the Kingdom of Heaven.\n\nHe had not exercised this office many years when our Lord called him\nto Him one day, and bid him open the gate of heaven to its widest\nstretch and deck its approaches as for a high festival, for that one\nof the holiest of earth and the dearest to Himself was to be received\ninto the abode of the Blessed.\n\n\"That must be my youngest cousin,\" said St. Peter, \"there is no doubt;\nshe who generously gave up a world in which she was so well adapted\nto shine, to live a life of perfection with God above only for its\nobject;\" and he strained his eyes to see far along the approach to\nParadise, that he might catch the first glimpse of her glorified soul\nand greet it with the earliest welcome.\n\nHow great was his surprise then, when roused by the melodious\nstrains of the angelic host escorting her, to hear in the refrain\nof their chant the name of the Sorellona [80], not of the younger\nof the sisters! Meantime the celestial cort\u00e9ge was wafted by, and\nthe beautiful spirit was welcomed by the Divine Master Himself,\nand placed on one of the highest seats in His kingdom.\n\nNot many days after our Lord called St. Peter to Him again, and\ntold him to open the gate a little, very little way, and to make no\npreparations for rejoicing, for He had promised admission to a soul\nwho, though of his family, yet had only escaped being excluded by a\nhair's breadth.\n\nSt. Peter went away perplexed, for he knew there was no one of his\nfamily who could be coming to heaven just at that time except the\nyounger of the two cousins, and how could the Lord's words apply\nto her?\n\nHe durst do no more than open the gate a very little way, but stationed\nhimself opposite that small cleft to obtain the earliest information\nas to who the new comer really was.\n\nPresently a solitary angel came soaring--the only escort of a\ntrembling soul--and, as he approached, without chorus or melody,\nhe begged admission for one whom, by the name, St. Peter discerned\nwas actually the Sorellotta [81] he had deemed so meritorious! With\ngreat difficulty, and by the help of the angel who conducted her,\nand of St. Peter himself, she succeeded in passing the sacred portal;\nand after she had been led to the footstool of the Heavenly Throne in\nsilence, He who sat on it pointed to a very little, low, distant seat,\nas the one assigned to her.\n\nWhen St. Peter afterwards came to discourse with the Lord about His\ndealings with the two souls, he learnt that she who performed her duty\nwith great exactness and perfection in the world was more pleasing\nin His sight than she who, while straining after the fulfilment of\na higher rule, yet fell short of correspondence with so great a grace.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLUXEHALE'S WIVES.\n\n\nThe Devil goes wandering over the earth in many disguises, and that\nnot only to hunt souls; sometimes it is to choose for himself a wife,\nbut when he goes on these expeditions he calls himself \"Luxehale.\"\n\nThere was once a very beautiful princess, very proud of her beauty, who\nhad vowed she would never marry any but the handsomest prince. Numbers\nof princes, who heard the fame of her beauty, came to ask her hand,\nbut directly she saw them she declared they were not handsome enough\nfor her, and drove them out of the city. Her parents were in despair,\nfor there was scarcely any young prince left in the world whom she\nhad not thus rejected.\n\nOne day the trumpeters sounded the call by which they were wont to\nannounce the arrival of a visitor.\n\nThe princess sat with her mother in an arbour.\n\n\"Ah!\" said the queen, \"there is another come to ask your hand. How\nI wish he may be the really handsome one you desire, this time!\"\n\n\"It is all useless, mother; I don't mean to see any more of them--they\nare all uglier, one than the other.\"\n\nThe queen was about to answer by instancing several noted paragons of\nmanly beauty whom she had rejected like the rest, but the chamberlain\ncame in with great importance just at that moment, to say that the\nprince who had just arrived appeared to be a very great prince indeed,\nand that he was in a great hurry, and demanded to see the princess\ninstantly.\n\nThe princess was very indignant at this abrupt proposal, and refused\nabsolutely to see him; but at last the queen got her to consent to\nplace herself in a hollow pillar in the great reception-hall, and\nthrough a little peephole, contrived in the decorations, take a view\nof him without his knowing that she did so.\n\nWhen the princess thus saw the stranger, she was dazzled with\nthe perfection of his form and the surpassing beauty of his\ncountenance, and she could hardly restrain herself from darting\nfrom her hiding-place and offering him her hand at once; in order\nto preserve herself from committing such a mistake, she immediately\nlet herself down through a little trap-door into the room below,\nwhere it had been agreed that her mother should meet her.\n\n\"Well, what did you think of him?\" said the queen, who did not keep\nher long waiting.\n\n\"Oh! I think he might do,\" said the princess, with an assumed air\nof indifference, for she was too proud to acknowledge how much she\nadmired him.\n\nThe queen was overjoyed that at length she consented to marry, and so\nput an end to the anxiety she was in to see her established before she\ndied. That she might not take it into her head to go back from what she\nhad said, her parents hastened on the wedding preparations, and the\nprince seemed very anxious, too, that no delay should occur. As soon\nas the festivities were over, he handed his bride into a magnificent\ngold coach, and drove off with her, followed by a retinue which showed\nhe was a very great prince indeed.\n\nAway they rode many days' journey, till at last they reached a palace\nof greater magnificence than any thing the princess had ever conceived,\nfilled with crowds of servants, who fulfilled her least wish almost\nbefore it was uttered, and where every pleasure and every gratification\nwas provided for her in abundance.\n\nThe prince took great pleasure in conducting her frequently over every\npart of the palace, and it was so vast that, after she had been over\nit many times, there was still much which seemed strange to her;\nbut what was strangest of all was, there was one high door, all of\nadamant, which the prince never opened, and the only cross word he\nhad spoken to her was once when she had asked him whither it led.\n\nAfter some time it happened that the prince had to go on a considerable\njourney, and before he left he confided to his wife the keys of all\nthe apartments in the palace, but she observed the key of the adamant\ndoor was not among them, and ventured to ask why it was not.\n\n\"Because no one passes through that door but myself; and I advise\nyou not to think any thing more about that door, or you may be sure\nyou will repent it,\" and he spoke very sternly and positively.\n\nThis only whetted her curiosity still more; and she was no sooner\nsure he was at a safe distance, than she determined to go down and see\nif some of the keys would not open this door. The first she tried in\nit showed there was no need of any, for it was unlocked, and pushed\nopen at her touch. It gave entrance to a long underground passage,\nwhich received a strange lurid light from the opening at the far end.\n\nThe princess pursued the ominous corridor with beating heart; and,\nwhen she reached the other end, made the frightful discovery that it\nwas--the entrance to hell!\n\nWithout losing a moment, she rushed up-stairs, regained her own\napartment, and sat down to contrive her escape, for she now perceived\nthat it was the Devil, disguised as a beautiful prince, that she\nhad married!\n\nAs she sat, pursued by a thousand agonizing thoughts, the gentle\ncooing of two pigeons in a cage soothed her, and reminded her of home.\n\nHer father's fondness had suggested that she should take the birds\nwith her that she might have the means of communicating to him how\nit fared with her in her married home. Quickly she now wrote a note\nto tell him of the discovery she had made, and begging him to deliver\nher. She tied the note to one of the pigeons, and let them fly.\n\nThe Devil came back in the same disguise, and was profuse in his\ncaresses; and he never thought of her having opened the door. But all\nthe princess's affection and admiration for him were gone, and it was\nwith the greatest difficulty she contrived to keep up an appearance\nof the fondness she had formerly so warmly and so sincerely lavished.\n\nMeantime the pigeons went on their way, and brought the note home. The\nking and queen were having dinner on the terrace, and with them\nsat a young stranger, named Berthold, conversing with them, but too\nsad to taste the food before him. He was one of those the princess\nhad rejected without seeing, but as he had seen her, he was deeply\ndistressed at the present separation. The pigeons flew tamely in\nnarrowing circles round the king's head, and, at last, the one which\ncarried the note came fluttering on to the table before him. He would\nhave driven them away, the rather, that they were all distressed and\nbleeding, and with scarcely a feather left, but the young stranger's\neye discovered the note, which was quickly opened and read.\n\n\"Oh, help me! What can I do?\" exclaimed the king; \"give me some\ncounsel. How can I ever reach the Devil's palace--and how could I\nfight him, if even I did get there?\"\n\n\"May I be permitted to undertake the deliverance?\" asked the stranger.\n\n\"Oh, in heaven's name, yes!\" cried the king.\n\n\"And shall I have your permission to pay my addresses to her when I\nbring her back?\"\n\n\"Why, she will be yours--yours of right, if you succeed in rescuing\nher; altogether yours!\"\n\n\"That must depend on herself. Nevertheless, if I have your consent\nto ask her in marriage, that is all I desire.\"\n\n\"Go, and succeed!\" devoutly exclaimed the king. \"And whatever you\nstand in need of, be it men or money, or arms, you have but to command,\nand every thing shall be given you that you require.\"\n\nBut the prince, who knew not what sort of enemy he had to encounter,\nor which way he had to go, knew not what assistance to ask for,\nbut set out, trusting in God and his own good sense to guide him.\n\nAs he passed out of the castle enclosure his eyes were rejoiced to see\nlying on the ground some of the white feathers of the carrier-pigeons,\nand then he perceived that, not having been duly matched, they had\nfought all the way, and that the whole track was marked with their\nfeathers. But as they, of course, had come by the directest course,\nit led him over steep precipices and wild, unfrequented places;\nstill Berthold pursued his way through all difficulties without losing\ncourage, and ever as he went pondering in his own mind with what arts\nhe should meet the Devil.\n\nHe was passing through a desolate stony place, which seemed far from\nany habitations of men, when he saw a man crouching by the wayside,\nwith his ear close against the rock.\n\n\"What are you doing there?\" said Berthold.\n\n\"I am listening to what is going on in the Devil's house,\" answered the\nman, \"for my sense of hearing is so fine, it carries as far as that.\"\n\n\"Then come with me,\" said Berthold; \"I will find work for you which\nshall be well repaid.\"\n\nSo the man left off listening, and walked on behind him.\n\nA little farther on, he observed a man sitting on a ledge of the\nprecipice, with his back to the road, and with all the world before\nhim; and he gazed out into the far distance.\n\n\"What are you staring at?\" said Berthold.\n\n\"I am gazing into the Devil's house,\" said the man, \"for my sight is\nso sharp, it carries as far as that.\"\n\n\"Then come along with me; I will give your eyes work that shall be\nwell paid.\" said Berthold.\n\nSo the man left off gazing, and turned and walked behind him.\n\n\"But stop!\" said the prince; \"let me have some little proof that you\nare as clever as you say. If you can see and hear into the Devil's\nhouse, let me know what the Devil's wife is doing.\"\n\nThen the first man crouched down with his ear against the rock;\nand the second man sat himself astride on a jutting projection of\nthe precipice, and gazed abroad over the open space--Berthold taking\ncare that they should be far enough apart not to communicate with\neach other.\n\n\"What do you see?\" he said, when the second man had poised himself\nto his own satisfaction.\n\n\"I see a vast apartment, all of shining crystal, and the Devil lying\nfast asleep on a ledge of the flaming spar, while the Devil's wife\nsits with averted face, and weeps.\"\n\n\"And what do you hear?\" he said, returning to the first man.\n\n\"I hear the Devil snore like the roaring of a wild beast, and I hear\ngreat sighs of a soft woman's voice; and every now and then she says,\n'Why was I so foolish and haughty, as to send away all those noble\nprinces whom I might have learnt to love? and above all, Berthold, whom\nI would not see, and who my mother said was better than them all; and I\nwould not see him! If I could but see him now, how I would love him!'\"\n\nWhen Berthold heard that, he could not rest a minute longer, but told\nthem he was satisfied; and hurried on so fast that they could scarce\nkeep up with him.\n\nOn they went thus; and presently they saw a man amusing himself with\nlifting great boulders of rock, which he did so deftly that no one\ncould hear him move them.\n\n\"You have a rare talent,\" said Berthold; \"come along with me, and I\nwill pay your service well.\"\n\nSo the man put down a great mass of rock he had in his arms, and\nwalked on behind the prince.\n\nPresently there were no more pigeons' feathers to be seen, and Berthold\nwrung his hands in despair at losing the track.\n\n\"See!\" said the man with the sharp sight, \"there they lie, all down\nthis steep, and along yonder valley, and over that high mountain! it\nwill take three months to traverse that valley.\"\n\n\"But it is impossible to follow along there at all!\" cried all the\nmen. But Berthold said they must find their way somehow.\n\nWhile they were looking about to find a path to descend by, they\nsaw a great eagle soaring round and round, flapping her wings, and\nuttering plaintive cries.\n\n\"I'll tell you what's the matter,\" said the man with the sharp hearing:\n\"one of her eggs has fallen down this ledge, and it is too narrow\nfor her to get it out; I can hear the heart of the eaglet beating\nthrough the shell.\"\n\n\"Eagle,\" said the prince, \"if I take out your egg, and give it to you,\nwill you do something for me?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, any thing!\" said the eagle.\n\n\"Well, that is a hot, sunny ledge,\" said the prince; \"your egg won't\nhurt there till we come back--I have seen in my travels some birds\nwhich hatch their eggs entirely in the hot sand. Now you take us\nall on your back, and fly with us along the track wherever you see\nthe pigeons' feathers, and wait a few minutes while we complete our\nbusiness there, and then bring us back; and then I'll take your egg\nout of the fissure for you.\"\n\n\"That's not much to do!\" said the eagle; \"jump up, all of you.\"\n\nSo they all got on the eagle's back, the prince taking care so to\narrange his men that the great neck and outstretched wings of the eagle\nshould hide them from the Devil's sight, should he have happened to\nbe outside his house.\n\nIt took the eagle only two or three hours to reach the journey's end,\nand by this time it was night.\n\n\"And now it is dark,\" said Berthold, to the sharp-visioned man, as\nthey alighted from the eagle's back, \"you cannot help us any more\nwith your sight.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes; the crystals of the Devil's apartment always glitter with\nthe same red glare by night or day. I see the Devil rolled up in bed\nfast asleep, and his wife sits on a chair by his side, and weeps.\"\n\n\"And what do you hear?\" he said, addressing the first attendant.\n\n\"I hear snoring and weeping, as before,\" said the man addressed.\n\n\"Now you, who are so clever at lifting weights without being heard,\"\nsaid the prince, \"lift the great door off its hinges.\"\n\n\"That's done,\" replied the man, a minute later, for he had done it\nso quietly Berthold was not aware he had moved from the spot.\n\n\"Since you have done this so well, I'm sure you'll do the next\njob. You have now to go up into the Devil's room, and bring the lady\ndown without the least noise; if you show her this token, she will\nrecognize it for her father's device, and will come with you.\"\n\nThe sharp-visioned man told him how he would have to go, for he could\nsee all the inside of the house, lighted up as it was with the glaring\ncrystals. But just as he was about to start,--\n\n\"Stop!\" cried the man with the sharp ears; \"I hear the Devil turn\nin his bed; our talking must have disturbed him.\" So they all stood\nstock still in great fear.\n\n\"He seems to be getting up,\" whispered the man with the sharp\nsight. \"No; now he has turned round and rolled himself up once more.\"\n\n\"And now he is snoring again,\" continued the other.\n\n\"Then we may proceed,\" replied the prince; and the third attendant\nwent his way so softly that no one heard him go.\n\n\"Get up on the eagle's back,\" said Berthold to the other two, \"that\nwe may be ready to start immediately.\" So the men took their places.\n\nThey had hardly done so when the man came back bearing the princess,\nand at a sign from Berthold sprang with her on to the eagle's neck. The\nprince got up behind, and away flew the eagle--so swiftly that had\nhe been less collected he might have lost his balance before he had\nsecured his seat.\n\nBy daybreak they had reached the spot where the eagle's egg had\nfallen. Berthold willingly exerted himself to restore her treasure\nto her, and she was so grateful that she proposed to fly with them\nhome the remainder of the journey--an offer which they gladly accepted.\n\nThe Devil was still sleeping and snoring, they were assured by the\nclever attendants; and away they sped, reaching home just as the king\nand queen were sitting down to breakfast.\n\nGreat was the rejoicing in all the palace. The princess gladly\nacknowledged Berthold's service by giving him her hand; and to all\nthree attendants high offices were given at court. To the eagle\nwas offered a gold cage and two attendants to wait on her, but she\npreferred liberty on her own high mountain, and flew away, accepting\nno reward but a lamb to carry home to her young ones.\n\n\n\nWhen Luxehale woke next morning great was his fury to find that the\nprincess was gone.\n\n\"Order out a troop of horse, and send and demolish her palace, and\nkill all belonging to her, and bring her home again,\" was the advice\nof his chamberlain.\n\n\"No,\" replied Luxehale; \"I hate violence: I have other ways at command\nwhich I find answer better. There are people enough in the world\nglad enough to follow me willingly. It is not worth while to give\nmyself much trouble with those who resist.\" And he dressed himself,\nand walked out.\n\nThis time his steps were not directed towards a grand palace. He didn't\ncare particularly about birth or cultivation. There was a cottage\nsituated just above one of the alleys of his pleasure-grounds where\nlived three beautiful peasant girls with an old father. Luxehale had\noften listened to their merry laugh and thought how he should like\nto have one of them for his wife; but he never could find any means\nof getting at them, as they were very quiet and modest, and never\nwould enter into conversation with any stranger.\n\nAs he now walked along he heard their voices in earnest talk.\n\n\"It's great nonsense of father selling all the celery, and not letting\nus have a taste of it!\" said one, in a discontented voice.\n\n\"Yes, it is; I don't mean to submit to it either,\" said another.\n\n\"Oh, but you wouldn't disobey father!\" said the first.\n\n\"Well, it's not such a great matter,\" replied the other; \"only a foot\nof celery [82]!\"\n\nLuxehale was very glad when he heard that, for he had never been able\nto catch them in an act of disobedience before. He placed himself\nunder the celery-bed and watched all the roots. The moment one began\nto shake, showing that they were pulling it up, Luxehale took hold of\nthe root, and held it hard, so that, instead of their pulling it up,\nhe contrived to drag down the girl who was trying to gather it.\n\nIt was the peasant's eldest daughter Lucia; and much surprised was she,\nafter passing through the hole Luxehale had made in the earth, to find\nherself in the arms of a handsome cavalier, who lavished the greatest\ncare on her! Lucia had never been spoken to by such a good-looking\ngallant before, and felt much pleased with his attention. She begged\nhim, however, to let her go; but he told her that was impossible. She\nwas his captive, and he never meant to let her go again; but if she\nwould only be quiet and reasonable she would be happier than any queen;\nthat he would take her to a magnificent palace where she would have\nevery thing she desired, and be as happy as the day was long, for\nhe would make her his wife. In fact, he succeeded in dazzling her so\nwith his promises that she began to feel a pleasure in going with him.\n\nNor did he break these promises. She was installed into all the\nenjoyments of which we have seen the former wife in possession;\nand as the Devil admired her beauty, and flattered and fondled her,\nshe did not altogether regret her captivity. But when the time came\nthat he had to go upon earth about his business, he brought her all\nthe keys of the place, with the express recommendation that she was\nnever to attempt to open the adamant door; then he plucked a red rose,\nand placed it in her bosom, as a memorial of him, which he promised\nshould not fade till his return, and departed.\n\nLucia amused herself very well at first with various occupations and\namusements the palace afforded, and which were new to her; but as the\ndays fled by she began to grow weary, and at last, from being tired\nand out of spirits with her loneliness, she became possessed with\nso intense a curiosity to see what lay hid behind the adamant door,\nthat she could not resist it.\n\nAccordingly she went down at last, with the bunch of keys in her\nhand, and with trembling steps made her way up to it. But, without\neven trying one of the keys, she found her touch pushed it open,\nand made the terrible discovery, that it was the gate of hell! She\nturned to escape, and rushed back to her apartment, to weep bitterly\nover her forlorn condition.\n\nTwo or three days later a train of waggons came laden with beautiful\npresents Luxehale had bought and sent home to amuse her, and she\nbecame so interested in turning them all over, that when he returned\nshe was as bright and smiling as if nothing had happened.\n\nLuxehale ran to embrace her, but suddenly observed that the rose\nhad withered on her bosom! When he saw that, he pushed her from\nhim. He had given it to her as a test to ascertain whether she had\ngone through the adamant door, for the heat of the fire was sure to\ntarnish it--and now he knew she was in possession of his secret.\n\n\"You have opened the adamant door!\" he exclaimed, fiercely; and she,\nseeing him so fierce, thought it better to deny it.\n\n\"It is useless to deny it,\" he replied; \"for nothing else would have\ntarnished that rose.\" And saying that, he dragged her down to it and\nthrust her within its enclosure, saying, \"You wanted to know what\nthere was behind the adamant door; now you will know all about it.\"\n\n\n\nLuxehale now had to look out for another wife. He at once bethought\nhim of Lucia's sisters, and went pacing up and down under their garden,\nas before. The two sisters were talking with some warmth.\n\n\"I don't see why father should have forbidden us to look through the\ntrellis!\" said the voice which had spoken first on the former occasion.\n\n\"Nor I,\" said the other. \"And I don't mean to be kept in in that\nstyle either,\" said the other.\n\nQuick as thought the Devil transformed himself into a serpent and\nworked his way up through the earth to the other side of the trellis,\nwhere he waited till the maiden put her head through, as she had\nthreatened. She had no sooner done so than he caught her in his coils\nand carried her down under the earth. Before she had time to recover\nfrom her surprise, he had transformed himself back into the handsome\ncavalier who had charmed Lucia.\n\nIt was the second sister, Orsola; and her opposition to his advances\nwas as easily overcome as Lucia's. She lived in the palace as Lucia\nhad done, and learnt to feel great delight in its pleasures. At last\nthe day came when the Devil had to go upon earth about his business,\nand he left her with the same charge about the adamant door, and\nplaced a red rose on her breast, which he promised should not fade\ntill his return. After a time her weariness induced Orsola to peep\nthrough the fatal door; and the hot blast which escaped as she opened\nit would have been sufficient to drive her away, but that it came\ncharged with the sound of a familiar voice!\n\n\"Lucia!\" she screamed, in a voice thrilled with horror.\n\n\"Orsola!\" returned her unhappy sister, in a tone of agony.\n\nOrsola knew enough. She did not dare venture farther; and as she made\nher way back to her apartment she saw in the court below the retinue\nwhich had escorted her husband back. Assuming as composed a mien as\npossible, she went out to meet him, and he ran towards her with every\nappearance of affection--but his eye caught the withered rose.\n\n\"You have opened the adamant door,\" he said, sternly. \"There is no\nhelp for you; those who once pass it cannot live up above here any\nmore. You must go back, and live there for ever!\" And, regardless of\nher entreaties and cries, he dragged her down, and thrust her into\nthe burning pit.\n\n\n\nLuxehale now had to search for another wife, and he determined it\nshould be no other than the third of the sisters. \"But,\" he reflected,\nas he walked towards her cottage, \"now she has no one left to talk to,\nhow shall I manage? Ah, well, I generally find a way to do most things\nI take in hand--and if I don't catch her I needn't break my heart;\nthere are plenty of girls in the world whom I have arts to enthrall.\"\n\nBut he did hear her voice. As he got near she was singing, very\nsadly and sweetly, a verse which told her regrets for her sisters,\nand called on them to return.\n\n\"That's all right!\" said Luxehale, \"she is sure to come to the spot\nwhere she last saw her sister. I'll be there!\"\n\nSo, transforming himself once more into a serpent, he wriggled\nthrough the earth and took up his place of observation beside the\ntrellis. He had not been there long, when she actually came up to it,\nsinging the same melancholy strains; and then she stopped to call,\n\"Lucia! Orsola! Lucia! Orsola!\" till the woods rang again. Then she\nseemed to get weary with calling, and she leant against the trellis.\n\n\"Ha! she'll soon put her head through now,\" chuckled Luxehale. And so\nshe did, sure enough; and no sooner did her head appear on the other\nside than he twisted his coils round her and dragged her down under\nthe earth.\n\nBefore she recovered herself he once more appeared as a handsome\ncavalier.\n\nIt was Regina, the youngest and best-conducted of the sisters.\n\n\"Let me go! let me go!\" she cried, refusing to look at him.\n\n\"I thought I heard you calling for your sisters,\" he replied,\nsoothingly; \"don't you want to see them?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes! tell me where they are.\"\n\n\"I can't tell you where they are,\" he answered; \"and if I did, it\nwould be of no use, because you would not know the way to where they\nare. But if you come with me, it is possible we may be able to hear\nsomething about them some day. One thing is certain, no one else is\nso likely to be able to hear of them as I.\"\n\nRegina was terribly perplexed, something within her said she ought\nnot to speak to the stranger gallant. \"And yet, on the other hand,\nif, by going with him, I can do any thing to recover my dear sisters,\"\nshe thought, \"I ought to risk something for that.\"\n\nWhen he saw her hesitate, he knew his affair was won; and, indeed,\nit required little persuasion to decide her now. As they went along\nhe said so many soft and flattering things as to make her forget\ninsensibly about her sisters. But when they got to the palace there\nwere such a number of beautiful things to occupy her attention, so\nmuch to astonish her--a poor peasant maid who had never seen any of\nthese fine things before--that she soon got habituated to her new life,\nand the fact of her having come for her sisters' sake went quite out\nof her remembrance.\n\nLuxehale was delighted to have brought things so far; and in proportion\nto the difficulty he had had in winning her, was the satisfaction he\nfelt in being with her; thus he spent a longer time with her than\nhe had with either of the other sisters. But the time came at last\nwhen he had to go upon earth about his business; and then he gave her\nthe same charge as the others about the keys and the adamant door,\nand the rose which was not to fade till his return.\n\nIt was not many days either before the desire to see what was\nhid behind it took possession of her; but as she approached it she\nalready perceived that the air that came from it was dry and heated,\nand as she really regarded the rose as a token of affection, she was\nconcerned to keep it fair and fresh, so she went back and placed it\nin a glass of water, and then pursued her investigation of the secret\nof the adamant door.\n\nShe had learnt enough when she had but half opened it, and smelt\nthe stifling fumes of sulphur which issued from the pit it guarded,\nand would have turned to go, but then her sisters' voices, wailing\nin piteous accents, met her ear.\n\n\"Lucia! Orsola!\" she cried.\n\n\"Regina!\" they replied; and then, courageously advancing farther by\nthe light of the lurid flames, which burnt fitfully through the smoke,\nnow red with a horrid glare, now ashy grey and ghastly, she descried\nthe beloved forms of her sisters writhing and wailing, and calling\non her to help them.\n\nShe promised to use all her best endeavours to release them, and,\nin the meantime, bid them keep up their courage as best they might,\nand be on the look-out to take advantage of the first chance of\nescape she could throw in their way. With that she returned to her\napartment, replaced the rose in her bosom, and looked out for the\nreturn of Luxehale. Nor did he keep her long waiting; and when he\nsaw the rose blooming as freshly as at the first he was delighted,\nand embraced her with enthusiasm. In fact, he was so smiling and well\ninclined that she thought she could not do better than take advantage\nof his good humour to carry out the plan she had already conceived.\n\n\"Do you know,\" she said, \"I don't like the way in which your people\nwash my things; they dry them in a hot room. Now I've always been\naccustomed to dry them on the grass, where the thyme grows, and then\nthey not only get beautifully aired, but they retain a sweet scent\nof the wild thyme which I have always loved since the days when I was\na little, little girl, and my mother used to kiss me when she put on\nmy clean things.\"\n\n\"It shall be done as you like,\" said Luxehale. \"I will order a field\nof thyme to be got ready immediately, and your things shall always\nbe dried upon it. Is there nothing else, nothing more difficult,\nI can do for you?\"\n\n\"Well, do you know,\" she replied--for this would not have answered\nher purpose at all--\"do you know, I don't fancy that would be quite\nthe same thing either; there is something peculiar about the scent\nof our grass and our thyme at home which is very dear to me. Wouldn't\nit be possible to send the things home?\"\n\nLuxehale looked undecided.\n\n\"It's the only thing wanted to make this beautiful place perfectly\ndelightful,\" she continued.\n\nHe couldn't resist this, and promised she should do as she liked.\n\nRegina then ordered a large box to be made, and packed a quantity of\nher things into it. But in the night when all slept she went down to\nthe adamant door, and called Lucia.\n\nBoth sisters came running out. \"One at a time!\" she said. \"Lucia has\nbeen in longest; it will be your turn next.\" So she took Lucia up with\nher, and hid her in the box under the clothes, and told her what she\nhad to do. She was to send all the linen back clean at the end of the\nweek, and well scent it with thyme, and to fill up the vacant space\nwith more linen, so that it might not seem to return with less in it\nthan when it went. She told her also, if the porter who carried the\nbox should take into his head to peep in, \"all you have to say is,\n'I see you!' and you will find that will cure him.\" Then she went to\nbed, and slept quietly till morning.\n\nEarly next day Luxehale called a porter to carry the box, to whom she\noverheard him giving secret instructions that, as soon as he had got\nto a good distance, he should search the box, and let him know what\nwas in it before he sent him up to her for final orders.\n\nRegina told him all about the situation of her father's cottage. \"But,\"\nshe added, \"I've had my eye on you a long time--you're not a bad sort\nof fellow, but you're too curious.\"\n\n\"Why, I've never been where your worship could see me!\" answered the\nporter; \"I've always worked in the stables.\"\n\n\"I can see every where!\" replied Regina, solemnly. \"I can see you in\nthe stables as well as I can see you here, and as well as I shall be\nable to see you all the way you are journeying; and if an impertinent\ncuriosity should take you to look at my clothes, I shall see you,\nyou may be sure, and shall have you properly punished, so beware!\"\n\nThe porter planted the chest on his strong shoulders and walked\naway. He was a devil-may-care sort of fellow, and didn't altogether\nbelieve in Regina's power of seeing \"every where,\" and, as his\nmaster's injunction to look into the box accorded much better with\nhis own humour than Regina's order to abstain from opening it, before\nhe had got halfway he set it down on the ground, and opened it.\n\n\"I see you!\" said Lucia, from within; and her voice was so like her\nsister's that the fellow made no doubt it was Regina herself who\nreally saw him as she had threatened; and, clapping the box to again\nin a great fright, lifted it on to his shoulders with all expedition.\n\n\"I've brought your daughter's linen to be washed!\" cried the porter,\nwhen he arrived at the cottage, to the father of the Devil's wives, who\nwas in his field \"breaking\" Indian corn. \"I've got a message to carry\nabout a hundred miles farther and shall be back by the end of the week,\nso please have it all ready for me to take back when I call for it.\"\n\nThe good peasant gave him a glass of his best K\u00fcchelberger [83],\nand sent him on his way rejoicing.\n\nHe had no sooner departed than Lucia started up out of the box of\nlinen, and hastily told her father all the story. The peasant's hair\nstood on end as he listened, but they felt there was no time to be\nlost. All the linen Regina had sent, and all that remained in the\ncottage, was washed and well scented with thyme, and packed smoothly\ninto the box for the porter to take back with him. They had hardly\ngot it all ready when he came to the gate to ask for it.\n\n\"Here you are!\" said the peasant; and the porter lifted the box on\nto his strong shoulders, and made the best of his way home.\n\n\"What did you find when you looked into the box?\" asked the Devil,\nthe first time he could catch the porter alone.\n\n\"Oh! nothing whatever but dirty linen,\" replied he, too much of a\nbraggadocio to confess that he had been scared by a woman's voice.\n\nAfter receiving this testimony the Devil made no sort of obstacle any\nmore to his wife sending a box home whenever she would, and as soon\nas she collected sufficient to justify the use of the large chest\nshe ordered the porter to be ready over night, and then went down\nand called Orsola.\n\nOrsola came quickly enough, and was packed into the linen chest as\nher sister had been, and with the same instructions. \"Only, as I don't\nmean to stay here much longer behind, there is no reason why we should\nlose all our best linen, so don't send a great deal back this time,\nbut fill up the box with celery, of which Luxehale is very fond.\"\n\nThe porter, feeling somewhat ashamed of his pusillanimity on the last\noccasion, determined this time to have a good look into the box,\nfor the effect of his fright had worn off, and he said to himself,\n\"It was only a foolish fancy--I couldn't really have heard it.\"\n\nSo he had hardly got half way when he set the box down, and lifted\nthe lid.\n\n\"I see you!\" exclaimed Orsola, in a voice so like Regina's that the\nlid slipped out of his hand, and fell upon the box with a crash which\nstartled Orsola herself. He loaded the box on his shoulders once more,\nnor stopped again till he reached his destination.\n\nHearty was the greeting of the two sisters and their father as soon\nas he was gone; and then they set to work to get the washing done.\n\n\"The weather has been so bad,\" said the father, when the porter\nreturned, \"that we could not dry all the linen, please to say to your\nmistress, but we hope to have it ready to go back with next week's;\nbeg her acceptance, however, of the celery which I have packed into\nthe box in its place.\"\n\n\"Did you look into the box this time?\" said Luxehale, as soon as he\ngot the porter alone.\n\nThe porter did not like to acknowledge that he had been scared by\na woman, and so declared again that there was nothing in the box\nbut linen.\n\nIt was more difficult to arrange for her own escape, but Regina had\na plan for all. The box had now gone backwards and forwards often\nenough for the porter to need no fresh directions, so she told him\nover-night where he would find it in the morning; and he, finding it\nseem all as usual, loaded it on his shoulders, and walked off with\nit by the usual path.\n\nHe had not performed half the journey when he determined to\nhave a serious look into the box this time, and be scared by no\none. Accordingly he lifted the lid, but this time the words,--\n\n\"I see you!\" came out of the box so unmistakably in Regina's voice,\nthat there was no room for doubt of her power of seeing him, and with\nmore haste than ever he closed it up again, and made the best of his\nway to the peasant's cottage.\n\nBoth sisters and their father greeted Regina as their good angel and\ndeliverer when she stepped out of the box; and they went on talking\nover all their adventures with no need to make haste, for Regina had\nbrought away with her money and jewels enough to make them rich for the\nrest of their lives, so that they had no need to work any more at all.\n\nWhen the porter returned to ask for the linen-chest, the peasant came\nout with a humorous smile, and bid him tell his master that they had\nnot time to do the washing that week.\n\n\"But what shall I tell my mistress?\" asked the man.\n\nAs he said so, Regina and her sisters came into the room, striking\nhim dumb with astonishment.\n\n\"No, you had better not go back to him,\" she said, compassionating\nhim for the treatment that would have awaited him, had he returned\nwithout her; \"Luxehale would doubtless vent his fury on you for my\nabsence. Better to stay here and serve us; and you need not fear his\npower as long as you keep out of his territory.\"\n\n\n\nAfter this, Luxehale determined to give up young and pretty wives,\nsince they proved sharp enough to outwit him, as he had before given\nup rich and titled ones, who were like to have knights and princes\nto deliver them.\n\nThis time he said he would look out for a bustling woman of good\ncommon sense, who had been knocked about in the world long enough to\nknow the value of what he had to offer her.\n\nSo he went out into the town of Trient, and fixed upon a buxom woman of\nthe middle class, who was just in her first mourning for her husband,\nand mourned him not because she cared for him, for he had been a bad\nman, and constantly quarrelled with her, but because, now he was dead,\nshe had no one to provide for her, and after a life of comparative\ncomfort, she saw penury and starvation staring her in the face.\n\nHe met her walking in the olive-yard upon the hill whence her husband's\nchief means had been derived. \"And to think that all these fine trees,\nour fruitful arativo, and our bright green prativo [84], are to be\nsold to pay those rascally creditors of my brute of a husband!\" she\nmused as she sat upon the rising ground, and cried. \"If he had nothing\nto leave me, why did he go off in that cowardly way, and leave me\nhere? what is the use of living, if one has nothing to live upon?\"\n\nThe Devil overheard her, and perceived she was just in the mood for\nhis purpose, but took care to appear to have heard nothing.\n\n\"And are you still charitably mourning because the Devil has taken\nyour tyrant of a husband?\"\n\n\"Not because he has taken him, but because he didn't take me too,\nat the same time!\" answered the woman, pettishly.\n\n\"What! did you love the old churl as much as all that?\" asked Luxehale.\n\n\"Love him! what put that into your head? But I didn't want to be left\nhere to starve, I suppose.\"\n\n\"Come along with me then, and you shan't starve. You shall have a\njollier time of it than with the old fool who is dead--plenty to eat\nand drink, and no lack, and no work!\"\n\n\"That's not a bad proposition, certainly; but, pray, who are you?\"\n\n\"I am he who you regretted just now had not taken you. I will take you,\nif you wish, and make you my wife.\"\n\n\"You the Devil!\" exclaimed the woman, eyeing the handsome person he\nhad assumed from head to foot; \"impossible, you can't be the Devil!\"\n\n\"You see the Devil's not so black as he's painted,\" replied\nLuxehale. \"Believe me that is all stuff, invented by designing knaves\nto deceive silly people. You can see for yourself if I don't look,\nby a long way, handsomer and taller than your departed spouse, at\nall events.\"\n\n\"There's no saying nay to that,\" responded the widow.\n\n\"Nor to my other proposition either,\" urged Luxehale; and, as he found\nshe ceased to make any resistance, he took her up in his arms, and,\nspreading his great bat's wings, carried her down to his palace, where\nhe installed her as lady and mistress, much to her own satisfaction.\n\nAs she was fond of luxury and ease, and had met with little of it\nbefore, the life in the Devil's palace suited her uncommonly well,\nand yet, though she had every thing her own way, her bad temper\nfrequently found subject for quarrel and complaint.\n\nIt was on one occasion when her temper had thus been ruffled, and she\nhad had an angry dispute with Luxehale, who to avoid her wrangling\nhad gone off in a sullen mood to bed, that some one knocked at the\ndoor. All the servants were gone to bed, so she got up, and asked\nwho was there.\n\n\"I, Pangrazio Clamer of Trient,\" said a somewhat tremulous voice.\n\n\"Pangrazio Clamer of Trient!\" returned the widow; \"come in, and\nwelcome. But how did you get here?\"\n\n\"It's a longish story; but, first, how did you get here, and installed\nhere too, it seems? Ah, Giuseppa, you had better have married me!\"\n\n\"I've forbidden you to talk of that,\" answered Giuseppa. \"Besides,\nI had not better have married you, for I have married a great prince,\nwho is able to keep me in every kind of luxury, and give me every\nthing I can wish. You couldn't have done that.\"\n\n\"No, indeed,\" he sighed.\n\n\"Well, don't let's talk any more about that. Tell me how every one\nis going on in Trient.\"\n\n\"By-and-by, if there is time. But, first, let me tell you about myself,\nand what brought me here. That's strange enough.\"\n\n\"Well, what was it, then?\"\n\n\"You know that you refused to have me, because I was poor----\"\n\n\"I have already forbidden you to allude to that subject.\"\n\n\"You must know, then, that though I worked so hard to try and make\nmyself rich enough to please you, I only got poorer and poorer; while\nat the same time, there was Eligio Righi, who, though his father left\nhim a good fortune to begin with, kept on getting richer and richer,\ntill he had bought up all the mines and all the olive-grounds, and\nall the vineyards and mulberry-trees that were to be sold for miles\nround--yours among the rest.\"\n\n\"That too?\"\n\n\"Yes; and I often felt tempted to envy him, but I never did. One day\nhe came to me while I was hard at work, and said, 'You know, Pangrazio\nClamer, that I am very rich;' and I thought he didn't need to have come\nand said that to me, who had all the labour in life to keep off envying\nhim, as it was. 'Pangrazio,' says he, 'I am not only rich, but I have\nevery thing I can wish, but one thing; and if I meet any one who will\ndo that one thing, I will take him to share my riches while I live,\nand make him my heir at my death. I come first to ask you.' 'Tell me\nwhat it is,' says I; 'I can't work harder, or fare worse, than I do\nnow, whatever it may be--so I'm your man.' 'Well, then, it's this,'\nhe continued. 'My one great unfulfilled wish through life has been\nto give the Devil three good kicks, as some punishment for all the\nmischief he does in the world; but I have never had the courage to\nmake the attempt, and now I have got old, and past the strength for\nadventures, so if you will do this in my stead, I will put you in\nmy shoes as far as my money is concerned.' Of course, I answered I\nwould set out directly; and, as he had made the road by which men\nget hither his study, for this very purpose, all through his life,\nhe could give me very exact directions for finding the Devil's abode.\n\n\"But, to get here, I had to traverse the lands of three different\nsovereigns; and, as I had to go to them to get my passport properly\nin order, they learned my destination, and each gave me a commission\non his own account, which I accepted, because if I should fail with\nEligio Righi's affair, I should have a chance of the rewards they\npromised me to fall back on.\"\n\n\"And what were these three commissions?\"\n\n\"The first king wants to know why the fountain which supplied all\nhis country with such beautiful bright water has suddenly ceased\nto flow. The second king wants a remedy for the malady of his only\nson, who lies at the point of death, and no physician knows what\nails him. And the third king wants to know why all the trees in his\ndominions bear such splendid foliage, but bring forth no fruit.\"\n\n\"And you expect me to help you in all this?\" said the Devil's wife.\n\n\"Well, for our old acquaintance' sake, and the bond of our common\nhome,\" said Clamer, \"you might do that; and for the sake of the nearer\nbond that might have united us.\"\n\n\"I would have refused you all you ask, to punish you for going back to\nthat story,\" said Giuseppa, \"but I really desire to see old Luxehale\nget a good drubbing, just now, for he has been very tiresome to-day. I\ndaren't give it him myself, but I'll help you to do it, if you have\na mind.\"\n\n\"Never mind the motive, provided you give me the help,\" replied\nClamer. \"And will you help me to trick him out of the answers for\nthe three kings, as well as to give him a good drubbing?\"\n\n\"That will I; for it will be good fun to counter-act some of his\nmischief.\"\n\n\"How shall we set about it then?\"\n\n\"I am just going to bed; he is asleep already. You must conceal\nyourself in the curtains, and bring a big stick with you; and when\nI make a sign, you must, without a moment's notice, set to and give\nit him. Will that do for you?\"\n\n\"Admirably! Only, remember, I have to do it three times, or I shan't\nget my guerdon.\"\n\n\"And do you think you are certain of getting all Eligio Righi's\nfortune?\" said Giuseppa, earnestly.\n\n\"Oh, as sure as fate!\" replied Clamer; \"he's a man who never goes back\nfrom his word. But I must fulfil all he says with equal exactness.\"\n\n\"And when I've helped you with half your labour, I don't see why I\nshouldn't have half your guerdon.\"\n\n\"Nor I! You'll always find me faithful and true; and what I offered\nyou when I was poor, I offer you with equal heartiness when I have\nthe prospect of being the richest man in Trient.\"\n\n\"When you have done all you have to do, then, will you take me back\nwith you?\"\n\n\"Nothing would make me happier than your consent to come with me. And\nwhen I'm rich enough to be well fed and clothed, you'll find I'm not\nsuch a bad-looking fellow, after all.\"\n\n\"Ah, you'll never be so handsome as Luxehale! But then I don't half\ntrust him. One never knows what trick he may take into his head to\nplay one. I think I should have more confidence of being able to\nmanage you.\"\n\n\"Then it's agreed; you come back with me?\"\n\n\"Yes; I believe it's the best thing, after all. And now we must make\nhaste and set about our business.\"\n\nShe crept up-stairs with soft steps, and Clamer still more softly after\nher. The Devil was sleeping soundly, and snoring like the roar of a\nwild beast. Giuseppa stowed Clamer away in the curtains, and went to\nbed too. When she heard what she reckoned one of the soundest snores,\nshe lifted the bed-curtains, and whispered, \"Now's your time!\"\n\nClamer did not wait to be told twice, but raised his stick, and,\nas Giuseppa lifted the bed-clothes, applied it in the right place,\nwith a hearty good will.\n\nLuxehale woke with a roar of pain, and Clamer disappeared behind\nthe curtains.\n\n\"Forgive me, dear lord!\" said Giuseppa; \"I had such a strange dream,\nthat it woke me all of a start, and I suppose made me knock you.\"\n\n\"What did you dream about?\" said Luxehale, thinking to catch her at\nfault; but Giuseppa had her answer ready.\n\n\"I thought I was travelling through a country where all the people\nwere panting for want of water, and as I passed along, they all\ngathered round me, and desired me to tell them, what had stopped\ntheir water from flowing, saying, 'You are the Devil's wife, so you\nmust know!' and when I couldn't tell them, they threw stones at me,\nso that I seemed to have a hard matter to escape from them.\"\n\nThe Devil burst out into a loud laugh, which absorbed all his\nill-humour, as he heard this story, and Giuseppa made a sign to Clamer\nto pay attention to what was to follow.\n\n\"You see, you never tell me any thing,\" she continued, pretending\nto cry; \"I never know any thing about your business, and, you see,\nall those people expected I knew every thing my husband knew, as\nother wives do.\"\n\n\"I didn't suppose you'd care to know any thing about it,\" replied\nLuxehale, trying to soothe her; \"and really there was nothing to\ntell! It's an every-day matter. There was a pilgrimage chapel near\nthe city, to which the people used to go in procession every year;\nand as long as they did that, I never could get past to get at the\nfountains. But now they have left off the procession, and so I got by,\nand had the fun of stopping the water.\"\n\nClamer winked to Giuseppa, to show he understood what the remedy was,\nand Giuseppa said no more, so that the Devil very soon fell off to\nsleep again.\n\nWhen he began to snore again very soundly, she lifted the bed-clothes,\nand made the agreed sign to Clamer. Clamer came forward, and applied\nhis stick with a hearty will in the right place, and the Devil woke\nwith a shout of fury.\n\n\"Oh, my dear husband!\" cried Giuseppa, deprecating his wrath by her\ntone of alarm; \"I have had another dreadful dream!\"\n\n\"What was it?\" growled the Devil.\n\n\"I thought I was going through a great city where all the people were\nin sorrow, and sat with ashes on their heads. And when they saw me\npass, they said they sat so because the king's son was at the point\nof death, and no one could tell what ailed him, and all the doctors\nwere of no use; but that as I was the Devil's wife, I must know all\nabout it. When I couldn't tell them, they began pelting me; as they\nkept putting fresh ashes on their heads each had a pan of fire by his\nside, in which they were making, and they actually took the red-hot\ncinders out of the pan of fire to pelt me with, and my clothes were\nall on fire; so you may believe if I tried to run away fast--and it\nis no wonder if I knocked you a little.\"\n\nThe Devil's fancy was more tickled than before with this story,\nand he laughed fit to split his sides, as she proceeded, so that he\nforgot all about the beating.\n\n\"It is all very well for you to lie there and laugh, but you wouldn't\nhave laughed if you had been treated as I was, I can tell you!\" sobbed\nGiuseppa. \"And it's all because you never tell me any thing, as other\nhusbands do.\"\n\n\"Bosh!\" answered the Devil; \"I should have enough to do, if I told\nyou all the stories like that! Why, it's the commonest thing in the\nworld. That king's son was a good young man, obedient to all the\nadvice of his elders. But after a time he got with bad companions,\nwho introduced him to some of my people. After they had played him\na number of tricks, one day one of them took into his head to give\nhim a stunning good illness, to punish him for some luck he had had\nagainst them at cards. And that's the history of that--there's nothing\ncommoner in life.\"\n\nGiuseppa made a sign to know if Clamer had heard all he wanted to know,\nand, finding he was satisfied, let the Devil go to sleep again.\n\nAs soon as he began to snore very soundly, Giuseppa lifted the\nbed-clothes, and Clamer once more applied his stick. Whether by getting\nused to the work and therefore less nervous, he really hit him harder,\nor whether the previous blows had made the Devil more sensitive,\nhe certainly woke this time in a more furious passion than ever, and\nwith so rapid a start that it was all Clamer could do to get out of\nhis sight in time.\n\n\"What have you been dreaming now?\" he exclaimed, in his most fearful\nvoice. \"I declare, I can scarcely keep my hands off you!\"\n\n\"Don't be angry,\" answered Giuseppa; \"it is I who have had the worst\nof it. I dreamt I was passing through a country where the trees had\ngiven up bearing fruit; and when the people saw me go by, they all\ncame round me, and said, as I was the Devil's wife, I must know what\nailed their trees; and when I couldn't tell them, they cut down great\nbranches, and ran after me, poking the sharp, rough points into my\nsides! You may believe if I tried to run away fast.\"\n\nThe Devil had never had such a laugh since he had been a devil,\nas at this story, and the whole palace echoed with his merriment.\n\nWhen Giuseppa found him once more in such good humour, she went on,--\n\n\"And why do you do such mischievous things, and make people so\nsavage? It isn't fair that they don't dare to touch you and all their\nill-will falls on me.\"\n\n\"As it happens, it's not my doing at all this time; at least, I didn't\ngo out of my way to do it for any sort of fun. It all came about in\nthe regular way of business.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\" pursued Giuseppa, who knew it was necessary to\nprobe the matter to the bottom.\n\n\"Why, the king of that country is a regular miser. He is so afraid\nthat any body should get any thing out of their gardens without paying\nthe due tribute to him first, that he has built such high walls round\nall the orchards, and vine-gardens, and olive-yards, that no sun can\nget at them. And he is so stingy, he won't pay people to dig round\nthem and manure, and prune, and attend to the property; so how can\nthe fruit grow? As long as he defrauds the poor people of their work,\nhe can have no fruit. It's not my fault at all!\n\n\"But, really, I've had enough of this. You'd better go and sleep\nsomewhere else for the rest of the night, for I can't stand being woke\nup any more. If you do it again, I am sure I shall strangle you--and\nthat would be a pity! Go along, and dream somewhere else--and I hope\nyou may get properly punished before you wake next time!\"\n\nGiuseppa desired no command so much; but pretending to cry and\nbe much offended, she got up and went to lie down in another bed\ntill the Devil began to snore soundly again. Then she rose up, and,\ntaking all her fine clothes and jewels, went out softly, and beckoned\nto Clamer to follow her.\n\n\"Suppose the Devil wakes before we get far away?\" said Clamer,\nbeginning to get frightened as the time of trial approached.\n\n\"Never fear!\" answered Giuseppa; \"when he gets disturbed like that,\nhe sleeps for a week after it.\"\n\nThen she clapped her hands, and a number of great birds came flapping\nround. She helped Clamer on to the back of one, and, loading her\njewels on to another, sprang on to a third, and away they flew,\nwhile she beckoned to three more to follow behind.\n\nWhen they came to the first kingdom, Clamer left the strange cortege\nbehind a mountain, and went alone up to the court, to tell the\nking he was a miser, and that if he gave up his sordid ways and set\nthe people, who were starving for want of work, to pull down half\nthe height of his walls, and to dig, manure, and prune his trees,\nhe would have as good a crop of fruit as any in the world. Then the\nking acknowledged his fault, and praised Clamer for pointing it out,\nand gave him a great bag of gold as his reward.\n\nClamer packed the sack of gold on to the back of one of the birds\nwhich were following them, and away they sped again. When they arrived\nat the second kingdom, Clamer hid his cort\u00e9ge in a pine forest,\nand went alone to the court, to tell the king that if his son would\ngive up his bad companions, and live according to the advice of his\nelders, he would be all well again as before. The prince was very\nmuch astonished to find that Clamer knew about his bad behaviour,\nfor he had concealed it from his parents and all about him, but this\nconvinced him that he must be right in what he said, so he promised to\nalter his life and behave according to the wise counsel of his elders\nin future. From that moment he began to get better; and the king,\nin joy at his restoration, gave Clamer a great sack of gold, which\nhe laded on to the back of the second bird; and away they flew again.\n\nWhen they arrived at the third kingdom, Clamer hid his retinue in\nthe bed of a dried lake and went alone to the court, to tell the\nking that if he would order the procession to the pilgrimage chapel\nto be resumed, the Devil would not be able to get in to stop the\nfountains. The king at once ordered the grandest procession that had\never been known in the memory of the oldest inhabitant, and all the\npeople went out devoutly praying. Immediately the springs and fountains\nbegan to flow again; and the king was so pleased that he gave Clamer a\ngreat sack of gold, which he packed on to the back of the third bird;\nand away they flew again, till they reached the gloomy shades of the\nVal d'Ombretta, under the cold, steep precipices of the Marmolata [85].\n\n\"Here will be a good place to hide all this treasure,\" said Giuseppa;\n\"it will never do to take it into Trient all at once. We will bury\nit here where foot of man seldom falls, and my birds will keep good\nwatch over it and defend it, and yet by their services we shall be\nable to fetch down any portion of it as we want it.\"\n\nClamer saw there was some good in the proposal, but he hardly liked\ngiving up the possession of the treasure to Giuseppa's birds, neither\ndid he like to show any want of confidence.\n\n\"Don't you think it an excellent plan?\" asked Giuseppa, as she saw\nhim hesitate.\n\n\"I think I could stow it away as safely in an old well at home,\" said\nClamer. \"This is an uncanny place of evil renown, and I had just as\nlief have nothing to do with it.\"\n\n\"What's the matter with the place?\" asked Giuseppa.\n\n\"Oh, you know, the Marmolata was as fertile as any pasture of Tirol\nonce,\" answered Clamer; \"and because the people had such fine returns\nfor their labour from it, they grew careless and impious, and were\nnot satisfied with all the week for working in it, but must needs be\nat it on Sundays and holidays as well. One Sunday an ancient man came\nby and chid them for their profanity. 'Go along with your old wives'\nstories!' said a rich proprietor who was directing the labourers;\n'Sunday and working-day is all alike to us. We have sun and rain\nand a fine soil, what do we want with going to church to pray?' And\nthey sang,--\n\n\n        'Nos ongh el fengh en te tabl\u00e0,\n        E i autri sul pr\u00e0 [86]!'\n\n\n\"The old man lifted up his finger in warning, and passed on his way;\nbut as he went it came on to snow. And it snowed on till it had covered\nall the ground; covered all the hay up to the top; covered over the\nheads of the labourers and their masters; snowed so deep that the sun\nhas never been able to melt it away again! A curse is on the place,\nand I had rather have nothing to do with it.\"\n\n\"Oh, I've lived long enough where curses abound to care very little\nabout them,\" answered Giuseppa, \"or I could tell you the real story\nabout that, for you've only got the wrong end of it. But it doesn't\ndo to think of those things. The only way is to laugh at all that\nsort of thing, and make yourself jolly while you can.\"\n\n\"My story's the right one,\" replied Clamer, \"and you won't laugh me\nout of believing it.\"\n\n\"Oh, dear no; the right story is much more serious than that! But\nI lose my patience with people who trouble themselves about those\nthings.\"\n\n\"I don't believe there's any more of the story,\" continued Clamer,\nwho was dying to hear it, and knew that the best way to get at it was\nby provoking her. Had he merely begged her to tell it, she would have\nfound a perverse pleasure in disappointing him.\n\nGiuseppa was very easily provoked. \"The right story proves itself,\"\nshe cried, pettishly; and Clamer chuckled aside to see his plan\nsucceed. \"Your way of telling it only accounts for the snow; how do\nyou account for the ice?\"\n\n\"Oh, there's no way of accounting for that,\" replied Clamer, with a\nmalicious laugh.\n\n\"Yes, there is,\" rejoined Giuseppa, fairly caught. \"It wasn't an old\nman at all who came to give the warning. It was a very young man,\nfor it was no one else but St. John.\"\n\n\"St. John!\" cried Clamer; \"how could that be?\"\n\n\"Don't you know any thing, then?\" retorted Giuseppa. \"Don't you know\nthat there was a time when our Lord and His Apostles went walking\nover the earth, preaching the Gospel?\"\n\n\"Yes, of course I know that,\" replied Clamer, much offended.\n\n\"Well, then, in process of travelling they came here just the same as\nevery where else--why shouldn't they? The Apostles had been sent on to\nprepare a lodging for the night, and St. John, being the youngest and\nbest walker, outstripped the rest, and came by first. But he was so\nsoft and gentle in his warning that the labourers laughed at him, and\nhe went on his way sighing, for he saw that their hearts were hardened.\n\n\"Then St. Peter and St. Paul came by----\"\n\n\"But St. Paul--\" interposed Clamer.\n\n\"Don't interrupt, but listen,\" said Giuseppa. \"St. Peter and St. Paul,\nthough not younger than the others like St. John, were always in the\nfront in all matters, because of their eagerness and zeal, and the\nimportant post which was assigned them in the Church. They came next,\ntherefore; but they, seeing the men working on Sunday, were filled\nwith indignation, and chid them so fiercely that they only made them\nangry, and they took up stones to throw at them, and drove them out\nof the ground. One by one the other Apostles all came by and warned\nthem, but none of them seemed to have the right way of getting at\ntheir hearts. And they went on working, with a worse sin on them for\nhaving been warned.\n\n\"Last of all, the Lord Himself came by, and His heart was moved\nwith compassion by the perversity of the people. He saw that all the\npreaching of all His Apostles had been in vain, and He resolved to\nsave them in another way, and prove them, to see if there was any\ncharity or any good in them at all.\n\n\"Instead of threatening and warning, He came leaning on His staff,\nweary and way-sore.\n\n\"'You have a fine Berg-Segen [87], my friends,' He said, sweetly,\nas He sat on a great heap of fresh hay placed ready to load the\nreturning wain.\n\n\"'Oh, yes! first-rate crops,' replied the rich proprietor, with a\nlook of contempt at the travel-stained garments of the wayfarer;\n'but they're not meant to serve as beds for idle fellows who go\nprowling about the country and live by begging instead of by work,\nso you just get up and take yourself off!'\n\n\"Our Lord looked at him with a piteous glance, but his heart was not\nsoftened. 'Move off quicker than that, or you'll taste my stick!' he\ncried, assuming a threatening attitude.\n\n\"Our Lord passed on, without uttering a word of complaint, till He\nreached the holding of the next proprietor.\n\n\"'Where there are such fine pastures there must be fine cattle and\na fine store of produce,' He said.\n\n\"'Oh, yes, I've plenty of stores!' said the man addressed; 'and\nthat's just why I don't like to have loafing vagabonds about my place;\nso please to move on quicker than you came.'\n\n\"'But I'm weary, my good man, and have come a long journey this day,\nand have nothing to eat: give me, now, but one sup of milk from your\nbountiful provision there.'\n\n\"'Give!' answered the man; 'I've nothing to give away. I work hard\nfor all I gain, and I don't encourage those who don't work.'\n\n\"'But you won't miss the little I ask--and I have travelled very far\nand am very weary,' replied our Lord, condescending to speak very\npiteously, to see if He could not by any means move the man's heart.\n\n\"'Hola! you there! Domenico, Virgilio, Giacomo, Rocco, Pero! come\nalong here, and throw this fellow out!' shouted the proprietor.\n\n\"The men turned with their pitchforks, and drove the wayfarer rudely\naway, without pity, notwithstanding that His legs trembled with\nweariness and the way was so steep.\n\n\"Our Lord uttered not a word, and hasted on, that He might not increase\ntheir condemnation by resistance.\n\n\"But the heavens grew black with anger at the sight; the storm-clouds\ngathered in vengeance; grey and leaden, mass above mass, they thickened\nover the devoted peak of the Marmolata; the sun ceased to smile,\nand a horrible darkness fell around.\n\n\"Closer and closer lowered the clouds, till they fell, enveloping\nthe mountain-top with white fields of snow.\n\n\"'Nay!' cried the Saviour, compassionately; 'Father, stay Thine\nhand!' And for a moment the convulsion of the angry element was\nstilled. 'They knew not what they did,' He pleaded; and He passed\ndown the path to the next holding.\n\n\"'See,' He said to the proprietor, who was watching the strange storm\nwith some alarm, 'see how terrible are the judgments of God! Give Him\npraise for the blessing He has poured out on you, and save yourself\nfrom His anger.'\n\n\"'What have I to do with the misfortunes of others? Every thing goes\nright with me.'\n\n\"'But it may not always. Be wise betimes, and render praise to God.'\n\n\"'What do I know about God?' answered the man; 'I've enough to do with\ntaking care of the earth; I don't want to puzzle my head about heaven!'\n\n\"'All good gifts are from heaven.' replied the Lord, faintly; and He\nsank upon the ground exhausted.\n\n\"'See!' cried a woman who had come out with her husband's dinner,\n'see, He has fallen; will you do nothing to restore Him?' And she\nran to raise Him up.\n\n\"'Let Him lie.' said her master, pushing her roughly away; 'it were\nbetter the earth were rid of such idle fellows.'\n\n\"He had filled up the measure of his iniquity. 'Hard and icy as his\nheart has been, so shall his pasture be!' proclaimed the Angel of\nJudgment. And as he spread his arms abroad, the clouds fell over the\nsides of the mountain; the cold blast turned them into ice, and it\nbecame a barren glacier for evermore.\n\n\"But the angels carried the Lord to the place the Apostles had prepared\nfor Him. And the woman who had pitied Him alone escaped and recorded\nthe story.\"\n\nA shudder had fallen over Clamer, and he seemed hardly inclined\nto break the silence which reigned around. There was not a bird to\nchirp a note, nor a leaf to flutter, nor a blade of grass to gladden\nthe eye. Meantime they had reached the Fassathal, which, though so\nfruitful farther along, is scarcely more smiling at its east end.\n\n\"Were it not well, Pangrazio,\" urged Giuseppa, \"to bury our treasure\nhere, before we get nearer the habitations of men? Ah!\" she added,\n\"I see what it is, it is not of the weird neighbourhood that you are\nshy, it is that you trust not me! you think if my birds guard the\ntreasure you will have less control over it than I!\"\n\n\"Oh, no!\" answered Clamer, ashamed to have been found out; \"it is not\nthat; but there are as many weird warnings rife here as concerning the\nMarmolata. Does not the Feuriger Verr\u00e4ther [88] haunt this place? and\ndoes not the Purgametsch conceal a village which was buried for its\nsins? Is it not just here that lurk the Angane and the Bergostan\u00f6\n[89]?\"\n\n\"Really, I can undertake to defend you against all these chimerical\nfancies,\" replied Giuseppa, scornfully; \"but if you don't feel any\nconfidence in me, it is absurd our attempting to live together.\"\n\n\"It is not that--I have told you it is not that!\" cried Clamer.\n\n\"Then shall we do it?\" urged she. Thus driven, Clamer could not\nchoose but give in; and Giuseppa sent her monster birds to conceal the\ntreasure they bore, in the hole she pointed out high up in the rocks,\nand remain in guard over it.\n\nThis done they sped over the pleasant Fleimserthal and Cembrathal\nto Trient.\n\nEligio Righi received his returning envoy with a hearty welcome, and\nlistened without wearying to his frequent repetition of the tale of\nhis adventures. The part where he described the manner in which he\nhad administered the chastisement on the Devil was what delighted\nhim most, and the account of the roaring of the Devil with the pain.\n\nMoreover, he kept his word, and opened his house and his purse to\nClamer, who shared every thing as if it had been his own, and even\nobtained his sanction to bring home his wife, though he durst not\ntell him how he obtained her.\n\nGiuseppa had now not only a fine house and broad lands, and plenty of\nservants and clothes, and every thing she wished for, but she had only\nto send one of her birds to the treasury in the Fassathal to supply\nall her caprices as well as wants--yet she was always complaining\nand quarrelling. Pangrazio often found her quite unbearable; but he\nremembered she was his wife, and he forgave her, though the more he\ngave in, the more unreasonable she got.\n\nIn the meantime, it must not be supposed that Luxehale had never\nawaked. True, he slept on for a good week, as Giuseppa had predicted,\nbut that over, he woke up in a pretty passion at finding she had\nescaped.\n\nWith all her evil temper, Giuseppa had suited him very well; he rather\nenjoyed an occasional broil, it was much more to his taste than peace\nand amity--and besides, he was sure always to get the best of it. So\nhe determined that this time, instead of going in search of a new wife,\nhe would get the old one back.\n\n\"Those who come to me in the way she did,\" he reflected, \"don't\nescape so easily. The others I more or less deceived. They came\nwith me thinking I was one of their own sort; but she followed me\nwith her eyes open--she knew all about me before she came. Besides,\nthey hated the place the moment they found out where they were, but\nshe knew what it was, and yet liked it all along. No, I don't think\nshe's of the sort that go back in thorough earnest.\"\n\nSo he dressed himself up in his best, put a plume in his hat and a\nflower in his button-hole, and went off to Trient. He had not watched\nthe house where Giuseppa lived many days before he heard her voice\nraised to that angry key he knew so well.\n\n\"That'll do for me,\" he said, rubbing his hands. \"It's all going\non right.\"\n\n\"What do you want more?\" he heard Clamer plead. \"If there is any\nthing I can do to please you, I will do it!\"\n\n\"You are a fool! and there's nothing in you can please me,\" screamed\nGiuseppa, too angry to be pacified; \"you're not like Luxehale. Why\ndid you ever take me away from him? He was something to look at!\"\n\n\"It's going on all right!\" said Luxehale, chuckling.\n\n\"Why did you come away?\" said Pangrazio, quietly.\n\n\"I didn't know what I was about! Would that I had never done it!\" she\nadded.\n\n\"Oh, don't say that!\" replied Pangrazio, imploringly. But instead\nof being won by his kindness she only grew the more noisy, till at\nlast Pangrazio could stand it no longer, and he went out to avoid\ngrowing angry.\n\n\"Now is my time!\" said the Devil; and he slipped round to the\nwindow. Giuseppa was still fretting and fuming, and invoking Luxehale\nat the top of her voice.\n\n\"Here I am!\" said Luxehale. \"Will you come back with me, and leave\nthis stupid loafer?\"\n\n\"What you there!\" cried Giuseppa, rushing to the window, and kissing\nhim. \"Of course I'll go with you. Take me away!\"\n\n\"All right; jump down!\" said Luxehale, helping her over the\nwindow-sill. Giuseppa threw herself into his arms, and away they\nwalked. Arrived outside the town, Luxehale lifted her up, spread his\nblack bat's wings, and carried her off.\n\n\"Go through the Fleimserthal and the Fassathal,\" said Giuseppa;\n\"I've got something to show you there.\"\n\n\"Any thing to please you!\" answered Luxehale.\n\n\"Oh, it's not to please me!\" cried Giuseppa, taking offence.\n\n\"Now don't begin again; it won't do with me!\" replied Luxehale,\nwith a sternness he had never before exercised. \"Mind, I don't mean\nto allow any more of it.\"\n\n\"Oh, if that's to be it,\" said Giuseppa, \"I'll go back again to\nPangrazio.\"\n\n\"No, you won't!\" replied Luxehale; \"you don't go back any more,\nI'll take good care of that! And now, what did you want to come by\nthe Fassathal for?\"\n\n\"Only because it's the way I passed with Pangrazio, and it renewed\na sweet memory of him.\"\n\n\"That won't do for me! What was the real reason?\"\n\n\"What will you give me if I tell you?\"\n\n\"Nothing. But if you don't tell me, I shall know how to make you.\"\n\nGiuseppa's courage failed her when she heard him talk like this. She\nknew she had given herself to him of her own will, and so she belonged\nto him, and she could not help herself; and now, the best course she\ncould think of was to tell him of the treasure, and trust to the good\nhumour it would put him in, for he was very avaricious, to get her\nforgiveness out of him.\n\n\n\nClamer came back from a walk outside the town--where he had gone to get\ncool after his wife's scolding--just in time to see Luxehale spread\nhis wings and fly away with Giuseppa in his arms. He called to her,\nbut she did not hear him; and all he could do was to stand watching\nthem till they were out of sight.\n\nHe came back so gloomy and dejected that his friend Eligio Righi was\nquite distressed to see him. He was so sympathizing, indeed, that\nPangrazio could not forbear telling him the whole story. \"Then, if\nthat is so, you need not regret being quit of her,\" moralized his sage\nfriend: \"she was no wife for an honest man. And as for the treasure,\nyou have enough without that. It was but ill-gotten gain which came\nto you for knowledge obtained from such a source.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nZOVANIN SENZA PAURA [90]; OR,\nTHE BOY WHO WENT OUT TO DISCOVER WHAT FEAR MEANT.\n\n\nZovanin was a bold boy, and never seemed to be afraid of any\nthing. When other children were afraid lest Orco [91] should play\nthem some of his malicious tricks, when people cried out to him,\n\"Take care, and don't walk in those footprints, they may be those of\nOrco!\" he would only laugh, and say, \"Let Orco come; I should like\nto see him!\" When he was sent out upon the mountains with the herds,\nand had to be alone with them through the dark nights, and his mother\nbid him not be afraid, he used to stare at her with his great round\neyes as if he wondered what she meant. If a lamb or a goat strayed\nover a difficult precipice, and the neighbours cried out to him,\n\"Let be; it is not safe to go after it down that steep place,\" he\nwould seem to think they were making game of him, and would swing\nhimself over the steep as firmly and as steadily as if he were merely\nbestriding a hedge. He saw people shun passing through the churchyards\nby dark, and so he used to make it his habit to sleep every night on\nthe graves; and as they said they were afraid of being struck blind\nif they slept in the moonlight, he would always choose to lie where\nthe moonbeams fell. Nor thunder, nor avalanche, nor fire, nor flood,\nnor storm seemed to have any terror for him; so that at last people\nset him to do every kind of thing they were afraid to do themselves,\nand he got so much wondered at, that he said, \"I will go abroad over\nthe world, and see if I can find any where this same Fear that I hear\npeople talk of.\"\n\nSo he went out, and walked along by the most desolate paths and through\nfrightful stony wildernesses, till he came to a village where there\nwas a fair going on. Zovanin was too tired to care much for the dance,\nso instead of joining it he asked for a bed.\n\n\"A bed!\" said the host; \"that's what I can give you least of all. My\nbeds are for regular customers, and not for strollers who drop down\nfrom the skies;\" for, being full of business at the moment, he was\nuppish and haughty, as if his day's prosperity was to last for ever.\n\nWhile Zovanin was urging that his money was as good as another's, and\nthe host growing more and more insolent while repeating that he could\nnot receive him, a terrific shouting of men, and screeching of women\nmade itself heard, and pell-mell the whole tribe of peasants, pedlars,\nand showmen came rushing towards the inn, flying helter-skelter before\na furious and gigantic maniac brandishing a formidable club. Every one\nran for dear life, seeking what shelter they could find. The inn was\nfilled to overflowing in a trice, and those who could not find entrance\nthere hid themselves in the stables and pig-styes and cellars. But\nno one was in so great a hurry to hide himself as mine host, who had\nbeen so loud with his blustering to a defenceless stranger anon. Only,\nwhen he saw the baffled madman breaking in his doors and windows with\nhis massive oaken staff, he put his head dolefully out of the topmost\nwindow, and piteously entreated some one to put a stop to the havoc.\n\nZovanin was not quick-witted: all this noisy scene had been transacted\nand it had not yet occurred to him to move from the spot where he\noriginally stood; in fact, he had hardly apprehended what it was that\nwas taking place, only at last the host's vehement gesticulations\nsuggested to him that he wanted the madman arrested.\n\n\"Oh, that's it, is it?\" said Zovanin. \"All right, I'm your man!\" and\nwalking up coolly to the cause of all this disturbance, he said,\nin the tone of one who meant to be obeyed, \"Give me your club.\"\n\nThe poor imbecile was usually harmless enough; he lived in\nan out-of-the-way hut with his family, where he seldom saw a\nstranger. They had incautiously brought him up to the f\u00eate, where\nhe had first become excited by the sight of the unwonted number of\npeople; then some thoughtless youths had further provoked him by\nmocking and laughing at him; and when the people ran away in fear of\nhis retaliation, he had only yielded to a natural impulse in running\nafter them. But when Zovanin stood before him, fearless and collected,\nand said, in his blunt, quiet way, \"Give me your club,\" his habitual\nobedience prevailed over the momentary ebullition, and he yielded\nhimself up peaceably to the guidance of the young giant. Zovanin first\nsecured the club, and then desired the madman to bestow himself in\nan empty shed, of which he closed and made fast the door. When the\nlandlord and people saw the coast clear they all came out again,\nthe latter losing no time in going back to their games, the former\nto resume his preparations for the entertainment of his guests.\n\n\"Well,\" said Zovanin, \"I suppose now you'll make no difficulty in\nproviding me a bed? I think that's the least you can do for me,\nafter my befriending you as I have. I have earned it, if any one has.\"\n\n\"What! you think that such a great feat, do you?\" said the landlord,\nwho, deeming the madman well secured, felt no compunction in disowning\nJohnny's service. \"Do you suppose any other couldn't have said,\n'Give me your club,' just as well as you?\"\n\n\"Perhaps you would like to try,\" replied our hero; and he went to\nunbar the shed-door.\n\n\"For heaven's sake, no!\" screamed the cowardly landlord, preparing\nto run away. \"Don't let him loose on any account; I'll do any thing\nfor you sooner than that!\"\n\n\"Well, you know what I want; it's not much, and reasonable enough,\"\nreplied Fearless Johnny, relaxing his hold of the door.\n\n\"But that's just the one thing I can't do,\" lamented the host. \"My\nbeds are bespoken to customers who come every year to the fair,\nand if I disappoint any of them I'm a ruined man.\"\n\n\"Very well then, here goes!\" and Zovanin once more prepared to open\nthe shed-door.\n\n\"Oh, no; stop!\" roared the landlord. \"Perhaps there is a way,\nafter all.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" ejaculated Johnny; \"I thought as much.\"\n\n\"There is a room, in fact a whole suite of rooms, and a magnificent\nsuite of rooms, I daren't give to any one else, but I think they will\ndo for you, as you are such a stout-hearted chap.\"\n\n\"Where are they?\" said Johnny.\n\n\"Do you see that castle on the tip of the high rock yonder, that\nlooks like an eagle perched for a moment and ready to take flight?\"\n\n\"I should rather think I did, seeing it's one of the most remarkable\nsights I have met with in all my travels.\"\n\n\"Well, that castle was built by a bad giant who lived here in former\ntimes; and he balanced it like that on the tip of the rock, and only\nhe had the secret of walking into it. If any one else steps into it,\nthey are pretty sure of stepping on the wrong place, and down will\ngo the whole castle overbalanced into the abyss. When he was once\ninside it, he had an iron chain by which he made it fast to the rock;\nand when he went out he used to set it swinging as you see, so that\nno one might dare to venture in and take back possession of the\nbooty which he seized right and left from all the country round. If\nyou don't mind trying your luck at taking possession of the castle,\nyou can lodge there like a prince, for there are twelve ghosts, who\ncome there every night, who will supply you with every thing you can\nask for. So there is all you desire to have, and more, provided only\nthe idea does not strike you with fear.\"\n\n\"Fear, say you?\" said Zovanin, opening his great round eyes; \"do you\nsay I shall find 'Fear' in yonder castle?\"\n\n\"Most assuredly. Every body finds it in merely listening to the story.\"\n\n\"Then that's what I came out to seek; so show me the way, and there\nI will lodge.\"\n\nThe host stared at his crack-brained guest, but, glad to be rid of\nhis importunity for a night's lodging in the inn, made no delay in\npointing out the path which led to the giant's castle.\n\nZovanin trudged along it without hesitation, nor was he long in\nreaching the precariously balanced edifice. Once before the entrance,\nhe had little difficulty in seeing what was required in order to take\npossession. Just in the centre of the building a large stone stood\nup prominently, and though at a great distance from the threshold,\nwas probably not more than a stride for the giant of old--as a further\ntoken, it was worn away at the edge, evidently where he had stepped\non to it. Zovanin saw it could be reached by a bold spring, and,\nhaving no fear of making a false step, he was able to calculate his\ndistance without disturbance from nervousness. Having balanced himself\nsuccessfully on the stone, he next set himself to fix the chain which\nattached his airy castle to the rock, and then made his way through\nits various apartments. Every thing was very clean and in good order,\nfor the twelve ghosts came every night and put all to rights. Zovanin\nhad hardly finished making his round when in they came, all dressed\nin white.\n\n\"Bring me a bottle of wine, and some bread and meat, candles and\ncards,\" said Fearless Johnny, just as if he had been giving an order\nto the waiter of an inn; for he remembered that the landlord had\nsaid they would supply him, and he felt no fear which should make\nhim shrink from them.\n\n\"I wonder where this same Fear can be?\" he said, as the ghosts were\npreparing his supper; \"I have been pretty well all over the castle\nalready, and can see nothing of him. Oh, yes! I will just go down\nand explore the cellars, perhaps I shall find him down there.\"\n\n\"Yes; go down and choose your wine to your own taste, and you will\nfind him there, sure enough,\" said the twelve ghosts.\n\n\"Shall I, though?\" said John, delighted; and down he went.\n\nThe bottles were all in order, labelled with the names of various\nchoice vintages in such tempting variety that he was puzzled which to\nchoose. At last, however, he stretched his hand out to reach down a\nbottle from a high shelf, when lo and behold a grinning skull showed\nitself in the place where the bottle had stood, and asked him how he\ndared meddle with the wine! Without being in the least disconcerted\nat its horrid appearance, Fearless Johnny passed the bottle into his\nleft hand, and with his right taking up the skull, flung it over his\nshoulder to the farthermost corner of the cellar. He had no sooner\ndone so, however, than a long bony arm was stretched out from the same\nplace, and made a grab at the bottle. But Fearless John caught the\narm and flung it after the skull. Immediately another arm appeared,\nand was treated in the same way; then came a long, lanky leg, and\ntried to kick him on the nose, but Johnny dealt with it as with the\nothers; then came another leg, which he sent flying into the corner\ntoo; and then the ribs and spine, till all the bones of a skeleton\nhad severally appeared before him, and had all been cast by him on\nto the same shapeless heap.\n\nNow he turned to go, but as he did so a great rattling was heard in\nthe corner where he had thrown the bones. It was all the bones joining\nthemselves together and forming themselves into a perfect skeleton,\nwhich came clatter-patter after him up the stairs.\n\nZovanin neither turned to look at it nor hurried his pace, but walked\nstraight back, bottle in hand, into the room where the supper was laid\nready, and the pack of cards by the side, as he had ordered. All the\nwhile that he was supping, the skeleton kept up a wild dance round him,\ntrying to excite him by menacing gestures, but Fearless Johnny munched\nhis bread and meat and drank his wine, and took no more notice than\nof the insects buzzing round the sconces.\n\nWhen he had done he called to the ghosts in the coolest way imaginable\nto clear away the things, and then dealt out the cards, with one hand\nfor a \"dummy\" and one for himself. He had no sooner done this than the\nskeleton sat down, with a horrid grimace of triumph, and took up the\n\"dummy's\" hand!\n\n\"You needn't grin like that,\" said Johnny; \"you may depend on it I\nshouldn't have let you take the cards if it hadn't pleased me. If\nyou know how to play, play on--it is much better fun than playing\nboth hands oneself. Only, if you don't know how to play, you leave\nthem alone--and you had better not give me reason to turn you out.\"\n\nThe skeleton, however, understood the game very well, and with\nalternate fortune they played and passed away the hours till it was\ntime to go to bed. Johnny then rose and called the twelve ghosts to\nlight him up to bed, which they did in gravest order. He had no sooner\nlaid himself to sleep than, with a great clatter, the skeleton came\nin and pulled the bedclothes off him. In a great passion Fearless\nJohnny jumped up, and brandishing a chair over his head, threatened\nto break every one of his bones if he didn't immediately lay the\nclothes straight again. The skeleton had no defence for his bones,\nand so could not choose but obey; and Johnny went quietly to bed again.\n\n\"It was a pity I didn't ask the poor fellow what ailed him, though,\"\nsaid Johnny, when he was once more alone. \"Perhaps he too is tormented\nby this 'Fear' that every one thinks so much of, and wanted me to\nhelp him. Ah, well, if he comes again I will ask him;\" and with that\nhe rolled himself up in the quilt, and went to sleep again. An hour\nhad hardly passed before the skeleton came in again, and this time\nhe shook the bedpost so violently that he woke Johnny with a start.\n\n\"Ah! there he is again!\" cried Johnny; \"now I'll ask him what he\nwants;\" so he jumped out of bed once more, and addressed the skeleton\nsolemnly in these words:--\n\n\n          \"Anima terrena,\n        Stammi lontana tre passi,\n        E raccontami la tua pena [92]!\"\n\n\nThen the skeleton made a sign to him to follow it, and led him down to\nthe foundations of the castle, where there was a big block of porphyry.\n\n\"Heave up that block,\" said the skeleton.\n\n\"Not I!\" replied Johnny; \"I didn't set it there, and so I'm not going\nto take it up.\"\n\nSo the skeleton took up the block itself, and under it lay shining\ntwo immense jars full of gold.\n\n\"Take them, and count them out,\" said the skeleton.\n\n\"Not I!\" said Johnny; \"I didn't heap them up, and so I'm not going\nto count them out.\"\n\nSo the skeleton counted them out itself, and they contained ten\nthousand gold pieces each.\n\nWhen it had done, it said, \"I am the giant who built this castle. I\nhave waited here these hundreds of years till one came fearless enough\nto do what you have done to-night, and now I am free, because to you\nI may give over the castle; so take it, for it is yours, and with it\none of these jars of gold, which is enough to make you rich, but take\nthe other jar of gold and build a church, and let them pray for me,\nand learn to be better men than I.\"\n\nWith that he disappeared, and Fearless Johnny slept quietly for the\nrest of the night.\n\nIn the morning, when the sun was up, and the birds began to sing\ncheerily on the branches, the landlord began to feel some compunction\nfor having abandoned such a fine young Bursch to a night by himself\namong the unquiet spirits; so he summoned all his courage, and all\nhis servants, and all his neighbours, and, thus prepared, he led the\nway up to the haunted castle. Finding that it was firmly fixed by the\nchain, they all entered in a body, for none durst be the first; and\nthe entrance, having been made for the giant, was big enough for all.\n\nZovanin having had such a disturbed night was still fast asleep, but\ntheir footsteps and anxious whisperings woke him. In answer to all\ntheir questionings he gave an account of what had happened to him, but\nstill complained that, after all, he had not been able to find Fear!\n\nZovanin was now a rich man, and had a mighty castle to live in where\nhe might have ended his days in peace, but he was always possessed\nby the desire of finding out what Fear was, and this desire was too\nstrong to let him rest.\n\nThe neighbours, however, told him he might find Fear out hunting;\nand many were the hunting-parties he established, and wherever the\nwild game was shyest, there he sought it out. Once, as he sprang\nover a chasm his horse made a false start, and was plunged into the\nabyss, but Fearless Johnny caught at the bough of a birch-tree that\nwaved over the mountain-side. The branch cracked, and it seemed as\nif nothing could save him, but Fearless Johnny only swung himself on\nto another on the ledge below, and climbed back by its means to the\npath. Another time, as he was pursuing a chamois up a precipitous\ntrack, a great mass of loose rock, detached from the height above,\ncame thundering down upon him. An ordinary hunter, scared at the sight,\nwould have given himself up for lost, but Fearless Johnny stood quite\nstill and let it bound over his head, and he came to no harm.\n\nSo he still was unable to find Fear. After some years, therefore,\nhe once more went abroad to seek it. This time, however, he provided\nhimself with a fine suit of armour and a prancing charger, and a\nnoble figure he cut as he ambled forth.\n\nAfter a long journey, with many adventures, he came one hot day,\nas he was very thirsty, to a fountain of water in the outskirts of a\ntown, and as he dismounted to drink he observed that the whole place\nlooked sad and deserted; the road was grass-grown, and the houses\nseemed neglected and empty. As he went up to the fountain to drink,\na faint voice called to him from the wayside, \"Beware, and do it\nnot! Think you that we all should be lying here dying of thirst if\nyou could drink at that fountain?\"\n\nThen he looked round, and saw that, as far as eye could reach, the\nbanks of the wayside were covered with dying people heaped up one on\nthe other, and all gazing towards the fountain!\n\n\"Know you not,\" continued the weary voice, \"that a terrible dragon\nhas taken possession of all the fountains; and that the moment one\ngoes to drink of them he appears, as though he would eat you up,\nso that you are bound to run away for very fear?\"\n\n\"'Fear!'\" cried Zovanin; \"is Fear here at last?\" and he joyfully ran\nto the side of the well.\n\nAll the weary, dying people raised themselves as well as they could, to\nsee what should befall him who was not afraid of the terrible dragon.\n\nBut Fearless Johnny went up to the fountain's brim to dip his hand\ninto the cooling flood. Before he could do so, however, the terrible\ndragon put his head up through the midst, with a frightful howl, and\nspueing fire out of his nostrils. Zovanin, instead of drawing back,\ninstantly took out his sword and, with one blow, severed the monster's\nhead from the trunk! Then all the people rushed to the fountain,\nhailing him as their deliverer. But ere they had slaked their thirst,\nthe dragon, which had sunk back into the depth of the water, reappeared\nwith a new head, already full grown, and more terrible than the last,\nfor it not only spued out fire from its nostrils, but darted living\nsparks from its eyes.\n\nWhen the people saw this they all ran away screaming, and Zovanin was\nleft alone; but, as usual, he did not lose heart, and with another\nwell-aimed blow sent the second head of the monster rolling by the\nside of the first!\n\nThe people came back, and began to drink again when they saw the huge\ntrunk disappear beneath the surface; but it was not many minutes\nbefore another head cropped up, more terrible than either of the\npreceding, for it not only spued fire from its nostrils and darted\nliving sparks from its eyes, but it had hair and mane of flames,\nwhich waved and rolled abroad, threatening all within reach. All the\npeople fled at the sight, and Zovanin was once more left alone with\nthe monster. Once more he severed the terrible head; and after this\nthe dragon was seen no more.\n\n\"That must be very wonderful blood out of which three heads can\nspring,\" thought Fearless Johnny; and he filled a vial with the\ndragon's blood, and journeyed farther.\n\nAfter a time he came to the outskirts of another town. It was\nnot deserted like the last. The streets were full of people making\nmerry--in fact, every one was so very merry that they seemed a whole\ncommunity of madmen. Another might have been afraid to encounter\nthem at all; but not so Fearless Johnny, he spurred his horse and\nrode right through their midst. But for all his seeming so fearless\nand self-possessed, the people got round him, and seized his horse's\nbridle, and dragged him from the saddle.\n\n\"What do you want with me, good people?\" cried Zovanin; \"let me hear,\nbefore you pull me to pieces.\"\n\nWhen they found him so cool, spite of the wild way in which they had\nhandled him, they began to respect him, and loosed their hold.\n\n\"If you want to know,\" answered one, \"it is soon told. We are all\nin this town wholly given up to amusement. We have done with work\nand toil, and do nothing but dance, and drink, and sing, and divert\nourselves from morning to night. But after enjoying all this a long\ntime, we begin to find it rather wearisome, and we are almost as\ntired of our pastime as we used to be of our labour. So the king has\ndecreed that every stranger who comes by this way shall be caught,\nand required to find us a quite new diversion, and if he cannot do\nthat, we will make him dance on red-hot stones, and flog him round\nthe town, and get some fun out of him that way, at all events; as\nyou don't look very likely to find us a new pastime, we may as well\nbegin with putting you on your death-dance.\"\n\n\"Don't make too sure of that!\" said Fearless Johnny, not at all\ndisconcerted; \"take me to your king, and I'll show you a diversion\nyou never heard of before.\"\n\nWhen he came to the king, the king laughed, and would hardly listen\nto him, because he looked so broad and heavy, and not at all like\none who could invent a merry game.\n\nBut Johnny protested that if they would let him cut off any one's\nhead, he would stick it on just as before, and the man should be\nnever the worse.\n\nThe king was greatly delighted with the idea, and most anxious to see\nthe performance, promising that he would not only let him go free if\nhe succeeded, but would load him with honours and presents into the\nbargain. Zovanin professed himself quite ready to prove his skill,\nbut no one could be found who was willing to let the experiment be\ntried on him.\n\nThis angered the king greatly; and at last he called forward his\njester, and ordered Zovanin to make the trial on him.\n\nThe jester, however, objected as much as any one else, only, as he\nbelonged entirely to the king, he could not disobey him. \"But think,\nyour majesty,\" said the poor hunchback, \"what will your majesty do\nwithout his jester, if this quack does not succeed in his promises?\"\n\n\"But I shall succeed!\" thundered Fearless Johnny; and he spoke with\nsuch assurance, that the king and all the people were more desirous\nthan ever to see the feat, and cried to him to commence. When the\njester found that all hope of wriggling out of the cruel decree was\nvain, he threw himself on his knees, and begged so earnestly that\nthe king would grant him two favours, that he could not resist. The\ntwo favours were, that he should have the satisfaction of repeating\nthe trick on Johnny, if he allowed him to try his skill on him, and\nalso that he should first give proof of what he could do on the ape,\nwith whose pranks he was wont to amuse the king.\n\nThe king and Zovanin both agreed to the two requests, and the poor\nape was brought forward, and delivered over to make the first essay.\n\nZovanin did not keep the breathless multitude long in suspense;\nwith one blow he severed its head, threw it up high in the air,\nthat all might see it was well cut off, and then placed it on again,\nsmearing in some drops of the dragon's blood by way of cement. The\nhead and trunk were scarcely placed together again, with the dragon's\nblood between, than the ape bounded up as well as before, and just\nas if nothing had been done to him; but, on the contrary, finding\nhimself the object of great attention, and excited by the shouts of\nthe people, he sprang and gambolled about from side to side with even\ngreater alacrity than his wont.\n\n\"Now, Sir Hunchback!\" cried Zovanin, \"it is your turn. You see it's\nnot very bad; so come along, and no more excuses.\"\n\n\"Go it, hunchback!\" said the king; and all the people shouted, \"The\nhunchback's head! the hunchback's head!\" with such vehemence that it\nwas evident there was no means of getting out of the trial. It was\ntrue, Zovanin had proved he could put a head on again; but the jester\nshrank from the cold steel nevertheless, and it was only with a look\nwhich concentrated all his venom that he yielded himself up. Fearless\nJohnny struck off his head in a trice, then threw it up high in the\nair, as he had done the ape's, and then cemented it on again with\nthe dragon's blood as well as ever.\n\n\"Now for you!\" screamed the hunchback, when he found his head back\nin its right place once more.\n\nZovanin had no fear, but sat down on the ground instantly, so that\nthe hunchback might reach him more conveniently. \"This is all you\nhave to do,\" he said: \"take my sword in your two hands, and swing it\nround across my throat. Then pour the contents of this vial over the\nstump of the throat, and clap the head down on it again.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes! I think I ought to know how it's done, as well as you,\"\nanswered the dwarf, hastily; and he swung the sword round with a will,\nsending Johnny's head rolling at the king's feet. The people caught\nit up and handed it round; and it might soon have got lost in the\ncrowd, but that the king shouted to them to bring it back, because he\nwanted to see it stuck on again. So they gave it back to the jester,\nand he smeared the rest of the dragon's blood over the stump of the\nthroat--but in putting the head on, took care to turn it the wrong\nway, which, as he managed to bend over Johnny's recumbent body, no\none observed till he rose to his feet. Then all the people screeched,\nand yelled, and shouted, so that John could not make out what was\nthe matter, but, getting angry, demanded his horse, that he might\nride away from them all.\n\nThe king ordered his horse to be brought, and Johnny sprang into the\nsaddle, and the cries of the people made the beast start away faster\neven than Johnny himself wished; only Johnny could not make out why\nhe seemed to him, for all his urging, always to go backwards.\n\nAt last, he got quite away from the shouts of the people, into a\ncalm, quiet place, where there was a lake shut in by high hills,\nwhich, with the mulberry-trees, and vines, and grassy slopes, were\nall pictured in the lake's smooth face.\n\nZovanin was hot with his ride, and so was his mount; so he walked\nhim into the shallow water, while he himself dismounted, and bent\ndown to drink.\n\nAt the sight that met his gaze in the water, a shout burst from his\nlips more terrible than the shouts of all the people. He gazed again,\nand couldn't think what had befallen him; but, so horrified was he\nat the sight of his own back where he was wont to see his breast,\nthat he fell down and died of fear on the spot! And thus Fear visited\nhim at last--in a way which would certainly never have occurred, if\nthe jester had put his head on again in the way nature designed for it.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE DOVE-MAIDEN.\n\n\nIn the days when heathenism still disputed the advance of Christianity\nin Tirol, there lived a nobleman in a castle, of which no trace now\nremains, overlooking the egg-shaped Lago di Molveno. The nobleman\nand his family had embraced the teaching of St. Vigilius, and were\namong his most pious and obedient disciples. Eligio, his eldest son,\nhowever, had two faults which led him into great trouble, as our\nstory will show; but as he was of a good disposition, and was always\ndesirous to make amends for his wrong-doing, he found help and favour,\nwhich kept him right in the main. His two faults were--an excess of\nfondness for card-playing and an inclination to think he knew better\nthan his elders, which led him to go counter to good advice.\n\nIt so happened that whenever he played at cards he always won; and this\nmade it such a pleasure that he could not be persuaded to leave it off,\nthough he knew he was wasting all the time he ought to have devoted to\nmore manly pursuits. Nor was there for a long time any lack of people\nto play with him, for every one said his luck must turn at last, and\neach thought he should be the fortunate person in whose favour this\nwould happen. But when at last they found he still won, and won on,\nthey got shy of the risk, and refused to incur it any more.\n\nWhen Eligio found this to be the case, he determined to travel abroad,\nand play against strangers. His parents tried to make use of the\nopportunity to lead him to break with his bad habit, but it was of\nno avail, and, as experience is a good school, they agreed to let\nhim go forth and see what the world was made of.\n\nIt was a brave sight as he descended the terrace of the castle\naccoutred in the noble array befitting his rank, and with a retinue\nof followers handsomely attired too. But his lady mother watched him\ndepart with a boding heart, and then went into the chapel to pray\nthat he might be preserved amid all dangers.\n\nNothing particular occurred to mar the pleasure of travel for several\ndays, till he came to a large and fertile plain, studded with many\ntowns, whose white stone-built houses sparkled in the sun. \"Ha! now\nwe come to life and human kind again!\" cried Eligio; and putting spurs\nto his steed he rode joyously to the first of these smiling towns. It\nhad no lofty towers, no heaven-pointing spires--nowhere was seen the\nsign of the saving cross, which from boyhood he had been taught to\nreverence and to see planted every where before him in consecration of\nevery affair of life. But there were sounds of mirth and revelry, as\nof a perpetual feast, and all around the place was gay with dancers\nand mummers, musicians, dice-throwers, and card-players. Eligio\nwandered about till he saw a number of these making up a fresh party,\nand courteously asked to be allowed to join them. They accepted his\ncompany willingly, and fortune favoured him as usual. Again and again\nhe tried, and it was always the same. It was as much as his train\nof followers, numerous as they were, could do to gather in and take\ncharge of all his gains. The stranger's unvarying luck became the\ntalk of the place, and all the people collected to see him play.\n\nTowards evening there came amid the crowd a tall man of serious mien,\nwho, having watched his play with much attention, said to him, as\nhe saw him complete a game which gave him once more the benefit of\na considerable haul,--\n\n\"Truly, you are an expert player, young man; I had thought myself\nhitherto the best of our countryside, but I doubt me if I should be\nright to measure my skill with yours. However, you must be tired with\nyour long travel and with the excitement of the day's play, and if\nyou will honour my poor board with your presence at dinner I will ask\nyou afterwards to let me try my power against yours with the cards.\"\n\nEligio thanked him for his courteous speech, and assured him he should\nhave the greatest pleasure in doing as he wished.\n\nThe stranger then led him to his abode, which was appointed with a\nsumptuousness such as had never entered into Eligio's dreams in his\nmountain home. Marble courts and fountains, surrounded by bowers of\nexquisite flowers, formed the approach, and then they passed beneath\nendless-seeming arcades of polished marble into a vast alcove encrusted\nwith alabaster of many colours, the dim light only reaching through\nits clear golden veins, no sound disturbing its still repose but\nthe cool murmur of a fountain which fed a marble lake. Here noiseless\nattendants advanced, and, having helped Eligio and his host to undress,\nafforded him a delicious bath, complete with ministrations of unguents\nand scents--very different from the plunge into the icy waters of\nthe Lago di Molveno, which was his greatest luxury at home.\n\nThey now arrayed him in an entirely new suit of superb attire; and\nthen, to the sound of hushed music, led him and his host through\nthe arched corridors to a banqueting-hall, where every thing of the\nchoicest was ready laid.\n\nNothing could have been more delightful than the charming and\naccomplished conversation of his hospitable entertainer, who, when the\nlong succession of various viands was at length exhausted, proposed\nthat they should repair to an upper room and commence their game.\n\nDelighted as Eligio had been with his extraordinary entertainment,\nhe was yet burning to try his luck with his obliging host, and\naccordingly followed him with alacrity to a divan spread on the roof,\nhaving for its only covering a leafy pergola [93], and lighted by\nlamps contrived with such art that they seemed to be the very bunches\nof grapes themselves which gave the rays.\n\nThe cards were brought, and the friends set to work. The first game was\na long one; the host seemed to be in great fear of not succeeding, and\npondered every throw. Eligio played in his own rough-and-ready style,\nexpecting luck to come as it always had--he never troubled himself how.\n\nBut this time luck did not come to him, and his entertainer was the\nwinner! The stakes were large, but his hospitable friend had been so\nurbane throughout, that he could not show any ill-will. His attendants\nwere called in, and paid the debt.\n\nThe winner put up the cards as though he did not wish to play again.\n\n\"Come, you must give me my revenge,\" said Eligio.\n\n\"Oh, certainly, if you wish it,\" he replied; and they played\nagain. This time Eligio paid more attention to his style, and\ncalculated every card he played; but it was of no use, he was beaten\nagain. Caring more for the disappointment than the loss, he saw the\nmoney counted out without a sigh; but the unusual sense of having been\novercome rankled in his mind. He had offered to play high because it\nseemed required by the princely character of the house where he had\nbeen so sumptuously received; and of all the treasure he had brought\nwith him, and of all he had won through a day's undeviating luck,\nthere only remained enough to repeat the stakes. Nevertheless he\npledged the same sum once more, and they played again.\n\nThis time fortune seemed to have come back to him. All went right up\nto the end; Eligio's heart felt lightened. So luck was coming back,\nwas it? He played with an interest which he had almost ceased to\nfind--but his adversary threw down his last card which reversed every\nthing, and once more he was the winner!\n\nEligio called in his followers, and ordered them to pay out the\nlast farthing of his treasure; but even this distressed him less\nthan having nothing more to stake, whereby to have a chance of\nretrieving his luck. \"Let be,\" said his new friend, soothingly;\n\"perhaps to-morrow your luck will turn. Come down with me to supper,\nand have a quiet night's rest, and think no more about the play.\"\n\n\"I can't rest, and I can't eat!\" said Eligio; \"I can do nothing till\nmy luck turns. I must stake something. Ah! there's my horse--but\nthat's not enough. Put along with it all my retainers. If I lose,\nthey shall be yours, and serve you.\"\n\n\"Since you insist, I have no objection,\" said his host. \"My men\nknow their service well, and will not shame you if you win and I\nhave to render you an equal number of them; and for your horse,\nI can match him, how good soever he may be, with the swiftest Arab\nin the whole world.\"\n\nEligio sat down, hardly heeding his words, intent only on\nre-establishing his success. But his pains were vain; the game went\nagainst him like the last, and, scarcely mastering his vexation,\nhe called in his retainers and told them they had passed into the\nservice of the new master.\n\nBut this only left him in the same position as before. Still he wanted\nto retrieve his fortune, and again he had no stake.\n\n\"Leave it for to-night,\" recommended his host; \"better times will\ncome with the morrow.\" But Eligio would not hear of it; the passion\nand excitement were too strong within him; he could not turn to\nother thoughts.\n\n\"Myself! my life! that is all I have left to play. Will you accept\nthe wager of my life?\"\n\n\"If you insist,\" replied his host, \"I have no objection, but it is\nan odd sort of play. I really never heard of such a thing before;\nbut any thing to oblige you--though I really advise you to leave it\ntill the morning, when you are cooler.\"\n\nAnd all the time he was a magician of the heathen, who had invited\nEligio for the express purpose of bringing him to this strait; but,\nas he saw how impetuous and excited he was, he knew that he would\nbut fall into his snare the more surely for whetting his ardour with\na little opposition.\n\nEligio would, indeed, listen to no mention of delay, and they sat\ndown and played--with the same result as before! His life was now\nat the magician's disposal, and he stood in a desponding attitude,\nwaiting to hear what the magician decided to do with him.\n\nAs he stood there, however, a great cry rose in the room beyond--a\ncry of a young maiden's voice in distress--and from under the usciale\n[94] came running, in terror for its life, a sleek white rat, and\nbehind it, in close pursuit, a bouncing cat. \"Save my rat! oh, save\nmy white rat!\" cried the maiden's voice; and her steps approached\nas if she would have run into the room after her pet. \"Keep back,\nchild! keep back! Enter not, for your life!\" cried the magician,\nsternly; and nothing more was heard but the gentle maiden's sobs.\n\nQuick as thought, however, Eligio had started from his despondent\nattitude at the sound of her distressful voice, and with one blow had\nstamped the life out of the treacherous cat. The little white rat,\nfreed from fear of its tormentor, returned softly to its mistress,\nand an exclamation of joy was Eligio's reward.\n\n\"Who have you got there, father? Mayn't I come in and thank him?\" said\nthe maiden, prettily pleading.\n\n\"On no account. Don't think of it!\" was the magician's angry reply.\n\n\"Then you must do something for him instead. Ask him what he wants,\nand do it for him, whatever it is.\"\n\n\"Very well, that'll do; go back to your own apartment,\" replied the\nmagician, impatiently.\n\n\"No, it won't do, like that. You don't say it as if you meant\nit. Promise me you will give him something nice, and I will go. It's\nonly fair, for he has done me a great pleasure, and you mustn't\nbe ungrateful.\"\n\n\"It is enough reward, fair maiden, to hear from your sweet voice that\nyou are satisfied with me,\" Eligio ventured to say; but this made\nthe magician more angry, and, to ensure his daughter's departure,\nhe promised he would do as she wished, but forbade either of them to\nspeak a single word more to the other.\n\n\"I have promised my daughter to give you a good gift,\" he said,\nwhen he had satisfied himself that she was gone to a distance;\n\"and under present circumstances I do not see that I can give you a\nbetter boon than to grant you a year of the life which you have lost\nto me. Go home and bid adieu to your friends, and be sure that you\nare back here by this day year, or woe be to your whole house!\"\n\nEligio now began to suspect that he had fallen into the power of\none of those against whom he had been often warned. No ordinary\nmortal could have cared to win his life; no ordinary mortal could\nhave threatened woe on his whole house. But the more convinced he\nfelt of this, the more terrible he felt was the spell that bound him.\n\nSad and crestfallen he looked as he toiled his way back to the castle\non the Lago di Molveno, and very different from the brave order with\nwhich he had started.\n\nWhen his parents saw him all alone, and looking so forlorn, they knew\nthat his bad habit had got him into trouble, but he looked so sad\nthat they said nothing; but by little and little he told them all. It\nwas a year of mourning that succeeded that day; a year so sad that it\nseemed no boon the maiden had procured him, but a prolonged torment,\nyet when that thought came he spurned it from him, as ungrateful to\nher who had meant him well. In fact his only solace was to recall that\nclear, ringing voice so full of sympathy, and to picture to himself\nthe slender throat and rosy lips through which it must have passed,\nthe softly-blushing cheeks between which those lips must have been\nset, and the bright, laughing, trusting eyes that must have beamed\nover them, till he seemed quite to know and love her.\n\nBut then, again, of what use? was not his year nearly run out? Was\nnot her father determined they should not meet? Was it not a greater\ntorture to die knowing there was one left behind he might have loved,\nthan to have died that night alone, as he had been then?\n\nMeantime the year was drawing to a close, and, not to give an\nappearance of shrinking from his plighted word, Eligio started\nbetimes to render his life up to him who had won it of him. It was\na sad parting with his parents, but he held up through it bravely;\nand when they advised him to take a large sum of money with him to\nbuy himself off, though he felt it would be of no use, he would not\nsay them nay, as he had so often done before.\n\nWith a heavy heart he set out; and first he stopped at the chapel\nof St. Anthony, at the foot of the hill, where dwelt an old hermit,\nto make his peace with heaven before he was called to lay down his\nlife. Then he rose and pursued his way.\n\nAs he journeyed farther he met a hermit coming towards him who he\nthought was the same he had spoken with in the chapel. \"Tell me,\nfather,\" he said, \"how comes it that you, whom I left behind me in\nthe chapel, are now coming towards me on the road?\"\n\n\"I am not the hermit whom you left behind you in the chapel,\" replied\nthe advancing figure, gravely. \"But I have heard all you confided to\nhim, for I am St. Anthony; and because I am satisfied with the good\ndisposition I have observed in you, I am come to give you help.\"\n\nEligio fell on his knees full of thankfulness, for never had he felt\nmore in need of help than now.\n\n\"Something I know, my son, of the ways of these men who hunt the lambs\nof our flock to destroy them, and I am minded to save you from the\none into whose power you have fallen, and with you the fair maiden\nwhose voice charmed you in his house.\"\n\nEligio started with joyful surprise, and clasped the saint's feet in\ntoken of gratitude.\n\n\"She is not his daughter, as you have supposed,\" continued the saint,\n\"but a child of our people, whom he stole from us. And now you must\nattend to my bidding, and do it exactly, or you will fail, and lose\nher life as well as your own.\"\n\nEligio felt the reproach, for he knew how often he had preferred his\nown way to the advice of his elders, but he was humble now in his\ndistress, and listened very attentively to the directions prescribed\nto him.\n\n\"Continue this public road towards the city,\" then said St. Anthony,\n\"till you get to the last milestone; then count the tenth tree\nthat you pass on the right hand and the eleventh on the left hand,\nand you will see a scarcely perceptible track through the brake to\nthe right. Follow that track till you come to a knoll of ilex-trees,\nthere lie down and rest; but to-morrow morning awake at daybreak and\nlie in wait, and you shall see a flock of white doves come before\nyou. They will lay aside their feathers and hide them, but you must\nwatch them very closely, for they are the magician's daughters;\nbut among them will be she whom I commission you to deliver. You\nmust observe where she puts her feathers, for the maidens will all\nthen go away for the rest of the day in their own natural form. As\nsoon as they are gone, take her feathers from their hiding-place and\npossess yourself of them. In the evening they will all come back and\nresume their dove form and fly away, but your maiden will continue\nseeking hers; then come forward and tell her that you want her help\nto overcome the sorceries of the magician. Remember this well, my son,\nand for the rest do as she bids you.\" So saying, the saint raised his\nhands in blessing, and passed on his way to the chapel, where he had\nto instruct the hermit in the conduct he had to pursue in the manifold\ndangers with which he was surrounded from the malice of the heathen.\n\nEligio walked briskly along, once more filled with the hope and\nenergy incident to his youth and character. \"Why should I count the\ntrees?\" he said to himself; \"surely, it will do if I look out for the\ntrack when I come to the brake!\" But the terrible warning he had had\nwas too recent that he should forget its lessons already. \"Perhaps\nit's better to keep to the letter. The saint laid great stress on\nmy doing exactly as he bid me; it is better to be on the safe side,\nfor another worthier life than mine is concerned with me, this time.\"\n\nSo he walked on steadily till he came to the last mile, and then\ncounted the trees conscientiously, till he found the path through\nthe brake, and made his way to the ilex grove, where he laid him down\nand slept peacefully. But long before daybreak he was awake with the\nanxiety not to be behindhand, and closely he watched for the arrival\nof the enchanted doves.\n\nWith the first streaks of daylight they came flying, as the saint had\npredicted, and, having flung off their covering of white feathers,\neach sought out a snug place under the heather where to deposit\nthem. It required close watching, indeed, to make out which was\nhis maiden; but, as they all chatted together, after the manner of\nmaidens, Eligio knew he could trust himself to recognize her voice,\nand, guided by that, he kept his eyes hard fixed on her whose tones\nhe recognized, that he might be sure to distinguish where she laid by\nher disguise. It was not light enough to satisfy himself whether her\nfeatures corresponded with the idea he had built up in his own mind;\nbut the grace of her form, as she passed by in her simple white,\nloosely-flowing dress, with a chaplet of roses for her only ornament;\nonly made him the more anxious to behold her face.\n\nThe maidens walked away, and Eligio took possession of the feathery\ncovering, which he laid up in his bosom as a precious token, and took\nit out again and gazed at it, and kissed it, and laid it by again\na thousand times, for it was his only solace through the long day\nof waiting.\n\nAt last evening came, and he resumed his post of observation. The\nmaidens returned; each sought out and resumed her dove's feathers and\nflew away; only the one was left, seeking hers in vain. Then Eligio\ncame forward, and said, respectfully, \"Fair lady, I know what it is\nyou seek, and I will help you to find it; but first promise to do me\na great favour.\"\n\nThe maiden started, for she too recognized his voice. Their eyes met,\nand both owned, in the depth of their own hearts, that the other bore\nthe very image which for a year past their fancy had conjured up.\n\n\"That will I, willingly, good sir!\" she replied, in her sweetest\ntones; \"for, an' I mistake not, I owe you a debt of gratitude before\nto-day. The treacherous cat that you killed so opportunely was no cat,\nbut a cruel Angana [95]; and the white rat concerned me so nearly,\nbecause it was no rat, but my dear nurse, whom the magician turned\ninto a rat when he stole me from my father's house. So believe if\nI was not anxious to save her, and if I ought not to be grateful to\nhim who preserved her to me! so tell me, what can I do to help you,\nand, whatever it may be, I will do it to the utmost of my power.\"\n\n\"St. Anthony appeared to me as I came along this way,\" rejoined Eligio,\n\"and he told me that you had been stolen from Christian parents and\nbrought up by this heathen mage, and that you would help me to get\nout of his power; but he also seemed to say that I should have the\nhappiness of helping you to leave this dreadful abode, and restoring\nyou to Christendom.\"\n\n\"Said he so?\" answered the maiden, with intense earnestness; \"then\nmy heart did not deceive me when I first heard your voice: you are\nindeed he with the thread of whose life mine is woven, and without\nwhom I could not be set free.\"\n\nWhen Eligio heard that, he was full of gladness, and he said, \"Let\nus escape, then! What should prevent us from leaving this country\ntogether? When I saw the magician before, the laws of hospitality\nmade him sacred to my sword; but now--now that I have learnt I have\na right to defend your life--I defy him, and all his arts!\"\n\n\"You are brave, I see; and it is well,\" she replied; \"but it is not\nso you can discard his power. By your own error you gave him power\nover you, and now you are his; you can only be free by his will.\"\n\n\"By his will!\" cried Eligio, in despair; \"then shall I never be free!\"\n\n\"Art must be met by art,\" she continued. \"His art is all round\nyou, though you see not its meshes; and by art we must bring him to\nrenounce his claim on you. Trust me, and I will show you how it is to\nbe done. He would force me to learn his arts when I begged him not,\nand now I know many things which will serve us. I can see the threads\nof his toils woven all around you; you cannot escape from them till\nhe speaks you free.\"\n\n\"Tell me, then, what I must do,\" said Eligio; and he mentally resolved\nas he spoke, that he would this time implicitly obey what she told him.\n\nShe remained thinking for a time, as if reckoning out a problem. Then\nshe said, \"For this first time I must act. On the fatal day you\nmust present yourself according to your oath. I will take care to\nbe with him when they tell him you are come; and when I hear your\nname, I will plead, as I did before, that he should not sacrifice\nyou at once, but give you some hard trial in which, if you succeed,\nhe shall speak you free. To silence my importunity, he will agree\nto this, intending to give you so hard a trial that you should not\nsucceed. But you come to me in my bower, cooing three times like a\ndove, for a signal, at this same evening hour, and tell me what it\nis, and I will find the means in my books to carry you through the\ntrial. So that, whatever he proposes to you, be not disconcerted,\nbut accept and undertake it with a good heart. And now, give me my\ndove's feathers quickly, for already they will be questioning why I\nam so long behind.\" And without waiting to let him take so much as\nanother gaze at her, she assumed her dove shape, and flew away.\n\nThe next day Eligio went, with a lighter heart than he had borne for\na long time past, to give himself up to the magician. The magician,\nwon over by the maiden's importunity, offered him his liberty on\ncondition of his performing successfully the difficult feat that he\nshould impose on him.\n\n\"Any thing you please to impose on me, I am ready to perform,\"\nreplied Eligio.\n\nThe magician smiled, with a ghastly, sardonic smile, while he paused,\nand tried to think of the most terrible trial he could impose.\n\n\"Since you were here last,\" he said, at length, \"I have grown a little\ndeaf, and I am told that the only cure there is for me is the singing\nof the phoenix-bird. The first thing you have to do is to find me\nthe phoenix-bird, that its singing may heal me.\"\n\n\"I will do my best; and hope I may be the means of curing your malady,\"\nsaid Eligio, courteously; but the magician, seeing him of such good\ncourage, began to fear he really might succeed, and added, hastily,\n\"But, mind, I only allow you three days for your search!\"\n\n\"Three days are but little to find the phoenix-bird,\" replied Eligio;\n\"nevertheless, I will do my best;\" and without waiting to listen to\nany further restrictions, he started on his way, saying, \"If I have\nonly three days, I have no time to lose.\"\n\nAt the approach of the evening hour Eligio found his way to his\nmaiden's bower, and having attracted her attention by cooing three\ntimes like a dove, told her what was the trial the magician had\nimposed.\n\n\"The phoenix-bird!\" she said, and she looked rather blank; \"he has\nchosen a difficult task indeed. But wait a bit; I think I can find it\nout;\" and she went back and took down scroll after scroll, and turned\nthem over so long, that Eligio began to fear that she would not be able\nto help him after all. At last she came back to him, looking grave.\n\n\"It is more difficult even than I thought,\" she said; \"and three\ndays is but short time to do it in. You must start this night,\nwithout losing a minute. Set out by the stony path outside the town,\nand ride ahead till you come to a forest, where a bear will come out\nupon you. The moment you see him, spring from your horse, and cut\nits throat with your hunting-knife; but if you hesitate a moment\nhe will fall upon you, and devour you. If, however, you kill your\nhorse dexterously, as you will, the bear will be satisfied with its\nflesh. You must wait standing by till he has eaten his fill, and watch\nfor the moment when he is about to turn away again, then spring on\nhis back, and he will take you to the castle where the phoenix-bird\nis kept; but if you lose that particular moment, he will return to his\ncave, and you will never have a chance of reaching the phoenix-bird!\"\n\n\"Rely on me; your directions shall be punctually obeyed,\" said Eligio,\nand he stooped to kiss her hand. But she would not allow this, and\ntold him he had not an instant to spare.\n\nEligio mounted his horse, and rode away over the stony path outside\nthe city, and pursued it all night, till at daybreak he reached the\nthick forest, when a bear came out upon him; Eligio sprang deftly from\nhis horse, and plunging his hunting-knife into his throat, flung the\ncarcase across the path. The bear fell upon the dead horse, and Eligio\nwatched for the moment when he should have finished his repast; but,\nas he was long about it, he thought to himself, \"Why not jump upon him\nat once? and then I shall be ready to start with him when he has done,\nwithout so much anxiety about catching the right instant.\" So said,\nso done; but the bear was not at all the docile animal he had expected.\n\n\"Don't disturb me when I'm feeding!\" he growled, and shook our hero\noff into a bed of nettles.\n\nEligio owned to himself he would have done better to follow the\ndirections of those wiser than he, and waited, with as much patience\nas the stinging of the nettles would allow him, till the brute was\nready to start, and then made a bold leap on to his back, which made\nhim turn round.\n\n\"Well sprung, this time!\" growled the bear; \"and as you have managed\nthat part of the business so well I have no objection to do what\nyou require. But you must attend to what I have to tell you. Keep\nyour seat steadily, for I have to go swiftly; but speak not a word,\nand when I bring you to the palace where the phoenix-bird is kept,\nlook not to the right hand or the left, but walk straight before\nyou, through terrace, and galleries, and corridors, till you come to\na dismal, deserted-looking aviary, where the phoenix-bird evermore\nsits on his perch. Put this hood over him, and bring him away with\nyou; but listen not to the songs of the other birds all around, and,\nabove all, touch not the golden owl which sits in the shade above!\"\n\nEligio promised to attend to all the bear told him, and took a firm\nseat on his back. The bear bounded away with an awkward gait, but\nEligio was an accomplished cavalier, and was nothing daunted. After\nmany hours' rough riding, they came to a vast palace, which he\nunderstood by the bear's halting was the abode of the phoenix-bird; so\nhe dismounted, and walked straight along the terraces, and galleries,\nand corridors, till he came to a sorry aviary where a thousand birds\nof gay plumage fluttered and chirped around. Faithful to his promise,\nEligio stopped to look at none of them; but walked straight up to\nthe perch of the phoenix-bird. When, however, he saw him, he began\nto reason in place of obeying. \"What can be the use of taking a\nshabby old bird like that? he looks like a fowl plucked ready for\ncooking! surely, some of these gay-plumaged birds are better worth\ntaking!\" and then his eye caught the golden owl snugly ensconced\nin the shady bower above. \"Ah! that's a bird worth having, that is\nnow! that's worth coming a perilous journey for; something to be proud\nof when you've got it! That's the bird for me!\" and, springing upon\na ledge of rock, he threw the hood the bear had given him over the\nhead of the golden owl, and brought it down. He had scarcely touched\nthe golden owl, however, when the whole assemblage of other birds,\nwhich had taken no notice of him before, suddenly began screeching\nforth their highest notes. Their cries brought a crowd of servants,\nwho surrounded him and held him fast, while the lord of the palace\ncame down, and severely asked an account of his conduct.\n\nEligio told his story with a frankness which, in some measure,\nconciliated the old lord; but the offence was too great to be passed\nover. \"The phoenix-bird,\" he said, \"might have been taken by him who\nhad courage to take it after the prescribed manner; but the other\nbirds it was sacrilege to meddle with, and the golden owl he had been\nexpressly forbidden, of all others, to touch; and though he granted\nhim his life, he condemned him to perpetual durance.\" The servants\ndragged him off to a deep dungeon, where he had nothing to do but to\nbewail his folly.\n\nNight fell around, and nothing could be more hopeless than his\nposition. His cell was hewn out of the earth; the iron door through\nwhich he had been thrust had been made fast with bolts and chains,\nand the only window which admitted the free air was strongly fitted\nwith iron bars.\n\nEligio was generous enough, in his utter desolation, to grieve more\nover his unfulfilled mission and wasted opportunities, than over his\npersonal hardships. \"Oh, my beautiful Dove-Maiden!\" he exclaimed,\n\"shall I, then, never see you again? Must you be left for aye to\nthe power of the horrid pagan enchanter, because I, by my insensate\nfolly, have failed in restoring you to the brightness of the Christian\nfaith?\" and when he thought of her fate, he wept again.\n\n\"St Anthony! St. Anthony!\" he cried, a little after, \"you befriended\nme once; give me one chance again! This once but send me forth again\nwith the mission of liberating her, and then let me come back and\npass my life in penance; but let not her suffer through my fault!\"\n\nBy a mechanical instinct he had placed himself near the window,\nas the type of freedom to him, and now he thought he heard a low\ngrunt on the other side of it, close to his ear. The sound was not\nmelodious, but yet he fancied there was something friendly in its\ntone. He raised himself up, and saw two white boar's tusks between\nthe bars. His solitude was so utter that even the visit of a wild boar\nwas a solace of companionship; but much greater was his pleasure when\nhe found that his uncouth visitor was grubbing up the earth round the\niron bars and the stones which held them, and had already loosened one.\n\n\"How now, good boar!\" cried Eligio; \"are you really come to release\nme?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the boar, as he paused for a moment to take breath;\n\"St. Anthony has heard you, and has sent me to give the fresh chance\nyou ask for; and if you this time but keep your promise, and do as you\nare bid, he will not exact the performance of the lifelong penance\nyou offer to perform; but after you have released the Dove-Maiden,\nyou shall live with her the rest of your life in holy union and\ncompanionship.\"\n\nIn a transport of delight Eligio set to work to co-operate with the\nboar in unearthing the massive stanchions; and when they had loosened\nthree he was able to force himself through the narrow opening.\n\n\"Now return to the aviary,\" said the boar; \"look neither to right nor\nleft, but bring away the phoenix-bird; and speak not a word, but mount\non my back, and I will carry you back to the city. But make all haste,\nor the three days will have expired, and then all will be lost!\"\n\nThis time Eligio followed his instructions implicitly, and got\nback to the town just in time to present the magician with the\nphoenix-bird before the expiring of his three days' grace. The\nmagician was surprised indeed to find he had been successful, but\ncould not recall his word, so he was forced to pronounce him free;\nand Eligio immediately repaired to the Dove-Maiden to thank her for\nher succour, and to ask what was next to be done to set her free too,\nthat they might go away together to Christian lands, and live for\neach other in holy union.\n\n\"As for me,\" replied the maiden, blushing, \"I shall be free by virtue\nof your freedom when you have performed one trial well, and without\naltering according to your own ideas the directions prescribed for\nyou. And now the first thing is, to obtain the release of my dear\nnurse from the horrid form in which the magician has disguised her. To\nkeep her in that shape, she is forced to eat a live mouse every week;\nand as nothing else is given her that she can eat, and as she is very\nravenous by the time the week comes round, she is forced to eat the\nmouse. But if the mouse be killed by a sword consecrated to Christian\nchivalry, and it is dead before she eats it, the spell will be broken,\nand she will resume her natural form.\"\n\nEligio said this was an easy matter. She had only to tell him on what\nday the feeding took place, and where.\n\n\"It has its difficulties, too,\" replied the Dove-Maiden; \"for if\nany blood of the mouse be spilt, the magician will know that I have\ninstructed you, and he will play us some bad turn. To prevent this,\nyou must cut the mouse in two by drawing your sword towards you;\nthen all the blood will be caught on the sword, and you must make the\nrat lick it off afterwards.\" Then she showed him where the mouse was\nbrought, and told him to be on the watch at sunset that very night.\n\nSunset accordingly found Eligio in close watch, his sword ready\nin his hand. But he thought, \"As for how to use a sword, my pretty\nDove-Maiden knows nothing about that. Who ever heard of drawing a\nsword towards one? Why, if any one saw me they would laugh, and say,\n'Take care of your legs!' I know how to cut a mouse in two so quickly\nthat no blood shall be spilt; and that's all that matters.\" So, you\nsee, he would do it his own way; and the consequence was that three\ndrops of blood were spilt on the ground However, the white rat got\na dead mouse to eat instead of a live one, and immediately appeared\nin her proper woman's form.\n\nWhen Eligio went to visit the Dove-Maiden after this, she spoke no word\nof reproach, but she told him she knew some trouble would befall them\nin consequence of those three drops of blood. She could not tell what\nit would be: they must do their best to provide against it when the\ntime came. The next thing he had to do was, to go by midnight to the\nmagician's stables under the rock, and take out thence the swiftest\nhorse in the whole world, and he was to know it by the token that it\nwas the thinnest horse he ever saw; its eyeballs and its ribs were\nall that could be seen of it; and its tail was only one hair! This\nhe was to saddle and bring under her window; and then all three would\nride away on it together.\n\nEligio went down into the magician's stable under the rock by midnight,\nand there he saw the lean horse, with his protruding ribs and eyeballs,\nand whose tail was only one hair. But he said to himself, \"My pretty\nDove-Maiden hasn't much experience in horseflesh; that can't be the\nswiftest horse in the world. Why, it would sink to the ground with our\nweight alone, let alone trying to move under us! That high-couraged\nchestnut there, with the powerful shoulders--that is the horse to\nhold out against fatigue, and put miles of distance behind you! I\nthink I know a good horse to go when I see one!\" So he saddled the\nhigh-couraged chestnut, and led it under the Dove-Maiden's window.\n\nWhen she saw the stout chestnut instead of the lean horse, she could\nnot suppress a cry of disappointment.\n\n\"What have you done?\" she said. \"You have left the swiftest horse in\nthe world behind; and now the magician can overtake us, nor can we\nescape him!\"\n\nEligio hung his head, and stammered out a proposal to go and change\nthe horse. But she told him it was too late; the stable-door was only\nopen at midnight. He could not now get in till the next night; and\nif they left their escape till then, the magician would find out the\ndisenchantment of the white rat, and from that suspect their scheme;\nand would then surround them with such a maze of difficulties, that\nit would take her years to learn how to solve them; whereas she had\npromised St. Anthony to have nothing more to do with the books of\nmagic, but to burn them all, and go and live with a Christian husband,\nfar from all these things. There was nothing to be done, therefore,\nbut to start at once with their best speed, only keeping on the watch\nfor the pursuer, who would inevitably come.\n\nAway went the high-couraged chestnut, with the speed of the wind,\nand as if his threefold burden had been light as air. But how swiftly\nsoever he went, the lean horse was swifter; and before the end of\nthe second day's journey they saw, at no distance, his fire-darting\neyeballs and smoking ribs, and his tail of one hair stretched out\nfar behind.\n\nWhen the Dove-Maiden saw the magician coming after them on this weird\nmount, she called to her companions to jump down; and she turned\nthe horse into a wayside chapel of St. Anthony, and herself into a\npeasant girl weaving chaplets on the grass outside.\n\n\"Have you seen a chestnut steed pass this way, with a young man and\nmaiden, pretty child?\" said the magician, bending low over his horse's\nneck to pat the peasant girl's cheek, but without recognizing her. The\nDove-Maiden started aside from his touch; but she answered,--\n\n\"Yes, good sir; they are gone into the chapel; and if you will go in,\nthere you will find them.\"\n\n\"Oh! I've got into the land of the Christians, have I?\" said the\nmagician to himself. \"I think I had better make the best of my way\nhome, and not trust myself there.\" So he mounted his fiery steed,\nand rode away.\n\nThen the Dove-Maiden restored herself and her companions to their\nformer shapes, and they soon reached home, where Eligio was received\nwith joyful acclamations by all. But to his intense surprise and\ndisappointment, his mother did not welcome his beautiful Dove-Maiden\nwith any thing like satisfaction.\n\n\"That is because of the three drops of the mouse's blood incautiously\nspilt,\" she whispered, when he deplored it to her; \"but I have a spell\nagainst that also. Let me into your mother's room when she is asleep,\nto-night, and I will anoint her eyes with an ointment with shall make\nher look on me for ever after with a loving glance. It was done as\nshe said, and next morning Eligio's mother received her lovingly to\nher arms as a daughter.\n\nAfter this, the Dove-Maiden burnt her magic books, and her nuptials\nwith Eligio were celebrated with great rejoicings throughout the\nvalley. They lived together for the rest of their days, in holy union,\nand the poor Christians of the whole countryside blessed their charity.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nKRISELDA.\n\n\nLong, long ago, in the days when the light of Christian teaching yet\nstruggled with the gloom of heathendom, there lived in the Edelsitz of\nRuggburg, by Bregenz, a most beautiful maiden--Kriselda by name. So\nfair she was that, from far and near, knights and nobles came to ask\nher hand; but though she was not proud or haughty, she would have\nnone of them, because there was not one of them all that came up to\nher expectations. It was not that she said they were not good enough\nfor her, but high or noble, or rich or renowned, as they might be,\nthey all failed to satisfy her longings; and with gentle words and\ncourteous demeanour, she dismissed them all. And yet she looked out\nwith hope, too, that the next should supply the bright ideal of her\nheart; but when that other came he always still fell short of what\nshe had imagined.\n\nOne evening she went out to walk amid the dark pines, where the golden\nlight of the setting sun gleamed between their bare stems. At the\nfoot of one of them lay a poor wayworn beggar woman, fainting with\nhunger and fatigue.\n\nKriselda was full of compassion for her sad state, and sent her maidens\nto fetch restoratives, and ministered them to her with her own hands.\n\nBut the beggar woman, instead of cringing with gratitude and surprise\nat the interest the noble lady had shown in her, was no sooner able\nto speak than she reproached her bitterly.\n\n\"It is well for you,\" she said, \"who live daintily, and have your\nwill every day, now and then to show a little charity for those who\nsuffer! but what is it, think you, to suffer every day, and to have\nyour own will never?\"\n\n\"It must be very sad!\" said Kriselda, compassionately; \"that is not\nyour case, I hope?\"\n\n\"How can you know it is sad? How can you hope any thing about\nit?\" retorted the beggar woman, sternly; \"you who know not what it\nis to suffer. Believe me, it is not fine clothes and a grand palace,\na beautiful face, or deeds of fame which make one great. Those to whom\nall these things appertain are, for the most part, little worth. To do\nwell is so easy to them, that what merit have they to boast? The truly\ngreat is one who suffers, and yet does well; who goes through toil\nand travail, sorrow and grief, and bears it in silence, and in secret,\nand has no fame and no praise of men to sound sweetly in his ears.\"\n\nKriselda listened to her words full of excitement, for it seemed as\nif a chord in her heart had been touched which none had ever reached\nbefore. And the picture the old beggar woman had drawn was nearer\nher mind's bright ideal than any image she had approached heretofore.\n\n\"What, then, is this same travail and grief?\" she asked, with\nsimplicity.\n\n\"If you really desire to know with good desire,\" answered the beggar\nwoman, \"take this end of a hank of yarn, and follow its leading,\nwinding it up as you go along, till you come to the bobbin, where it\nis made fast; and when you arrive there you will know what travail\nand grief are. But you must go forth alone.\"\n\nKriselda dismissed all her maidens, and taking the yarn, cheerfully\nfollowed the steep path through which it led. On it led her, and on\nand on. Her light garments were rent by the thorns and briars, and\nher hands and delicate cheeks too; her feet were cut by the stones of\nthe way, and her knees began to tremble with fatigue. Darkness fell\naround, and loneliness crept over her, with fear, for she had never\nbeen in the forest by night alone before; but still the yarn led on,\nand on, and it was thick night before she reached the bobbin, where\nit was made fast.\n\nWhen she reached the place a dim light gleamed around, and in the\nmidst of the dim light a Kreuzst\u00f6cklein [96]: and on the cross,\nOne fairer than the sons of men, but wan and wayworn, even as the\nfainting beggar woman; His brow rent by thorns, even as her own;\nHis knees bent with weariness; His body wasted by want.\n\nBut in His face the majesty and sweetness she had sought so long;\nthe perfect ideal of her heart, which none who had approached her\nhad ever presented before.\n\n\"This, then, is He for whom my soul longed!\" she cried, and clasped\nher hands. \"I have found Him, and will not leave Him more! But who\nis He? what does He here? and is it He who knows travail and grief?\"\n\n\"In truth, have I known travail and grief!\" He sighed, and the silvery\ntones of His plaintive voice filled her with unutterable joy; \"and,\nin truth, must all those who would abide with Me know travail and\ngrief too!\"\n\nShe strained her ears that she might hear those sweet notes again, but\nshe listened in vain; only its echoes seemed to live on in her heart,\nas though they would never die there. But without, there was no sound,\nsave of the terrible F\u00f6hn [97] moaning through the tall black pines,\nand drifting round her masses of heaped-up snow, which had long lain\nby the wayside. Even the Kreuzst\u00f6cklein she saw no more, nor the dim\nlight, nor knew how to find the way home. All alone, with terror only\nfor her companion, she stood and wondered what that cross could mean,\nand who He could be who hung thereon. Soon she ceased to wonder,\nfor numbness crept over her, and unconsciousness which was not sleep.\n\nWhen she opened her eyes again the grey light of morning had fallen\naround, and there was a sound as of men in deadly combat. A terrible\nsound, yet less terrible than the deathly stillness of the night.\n\nIt was a hermit and a giant who strove, as men who give no quarter,\nand yet neither prevailed against the other. The giant was accoutred in\nburnished steel; and his polished weapons flashed with angry fire. The\nhermit bore no arms--or rather, those he bore were invisible, for when\nhe wielded them you saw the giant shrink, though you saw not the blow;\nand, in like manner, many a stroke of the giant's sword was harmlessly\nwarded off, though no shield was seen.\n\n\"Wherefore fight you so furiously?\" said Kriselda, at length. \"Put\nup your arms, and be at peace.\"\n\n\"We fight for you, fair maiden!\" said both, speaking together.\n\n\"For me!\" cried Kriselda.\n\n\"Yes, even for you,\" said the giant; \"anon you were lying here asleep,\nand I would have carried you to rule over my castle, when up started\nthis puny man in brown, and dared me to lay finger on you; and till\nyou have pronounced which of us you approve, neither can prevail. Say\nonly one word, and I will hurl him down the cliff, like this pebble,\nwith one spurning of my foot; and you shall come and reign with me\nin my castle, where I will fulfil your every desire.\"\n\nA brave enthusiasm kindled his eye as he spoke; his well-knit frame,\nterrible in its strength, was bowed to hear her word; and his arms,\nanon so furiously raised, were now folded before her, seemingly\nawaiting his life to be rekindled at her lips.\n\nKriselda looked at him, and met his rapt gaze, and asked herself\nwas there not here the strength, the majesty, the nobility, her soul\nhad desired. Almost she had spoken the word he craved. But first she\naddressed the hermit.\n\n\"And you--why measured you your strength with him for my sake?\"\n\n\"Because,\" said the hermit, meekly, \"I am the servant of Him who knows\ntravail and grief; because you have lifted up your eyes to Him, and to\nall such He sends help, that they may be strengthened to follow Him.\"\n\nThen the dim light seemed once more present to Kriselda's mind, and\nshe recalled the Kreuzst\u00f6cklein, and the majesty and beauty of Him who\nhung thereon; and the musical tones of His plaintive voice which said,\n\"Truly I have known travail and grief; and all they who would abide\nwith Me must know grief and travail too!\"\n\nThe giant's nobility paled before the thought; she looked at him\nagain, and his strength and his power had lost their charm, for the\nimage of One stronger than he was present to her mind. Then she turned\nand followed the hermit, and said, \"Where is He whom I seek? Take me\nto Him.\"\n\nThe hermit raised his hand and beckoned her to follow still higher\nup the steep path.\n\nBut the giant was forced to sheathe his sword and to depart alone;\nKriselda had spoken, and he knew he could not prevail against the\nhermit contrary to her will. He turned away sorrowful, casting in his\nmind who it could be whose attractions were more powerful on Kriselda\nthan his own; and as he walked he determined he would not sleep\nor eat till he had found out Him who hung upon the Kreuzst\u00f6cklein,\nand knew travail and grief.\n\nKriselda, meantime, followed the hermit to where the crystal brook\nflowed, and there he signed her with the token of Him who knew travail\nand grief. Then he took her to where other maidens dwelt who loved\nthat same ideal; and there she lived many years, waiting for the time\nwhen the hermit promised her she should be united with Him for ever.\n\nThat day came at last; and she called her sisters round her, and told\nthem the joy of her soul. Already she saw a dim light, as on that\nfirst night under the black pines, and she knew it was the dawn of\nthe bright unending day, and the soft voice that had spoken to her\nthere was calling to her to come to Him.\n\nBut when they carried her earthly form out to burial, they found one\nalready lying in the grave. It was the giant, who had journeyed thus\nfar, and had there laid him down and died in the place where Kriselda\nshould be laid; and he held, clasped to his breast, the Kreuzst\u00f6cklein\nof the black pine-forest.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE GOLDEN PEARS.\n\n\nThere was once a poor peasant of B\u00fcrs who had nothing in the world\nbut three sons, and a pear-tree that grew before his cottage.\n\nBut as his pears were very fine, and the Kaiser was very fond of them,\nhe said to his sons one day, that he would send the Kaiser a basket\nof them for a present.\n\nSo he plaited a nice Krattle [98] and lined it with fresh leaves,\nand laid the pears on them, and sent his eldest son with it to make\na present to the Kaiser, giving him strict charge to take care and\nnot let any one rob him of them by the way.\n\n\"Leave me alone, father!\" replied the boy; \"I know how to take care\nof my own. It isn't much any one will get out of me by asking; I can\nfind as good an answer as any one.\"\n\nSo he closed up the mouth of the basket with fresh leaves and went\nout to take the pears to the Kaiser.\n\nIt was autumn, and the sun struck hot all through the midday hours, and\nat last coming to a wayside fountain, he sat down to drink and rest.\n\nA little doubled-up old woman was washing some rags at the same\nfountain, and singing a ditty all out of tune. \"A witch, I'll be\nbound!\" said the boy to himself. \"She'll be trying to get my pears,\nby hook or by crook, but I'll be even with her!\"\n\n\"A fair day, my lad!\" said the little old wife; \"but a heavy burden\nyou have to carry. What may it be with which you are so heavily laden?\"\n\n\"A load of sweepings off the road, to see if I can turn a penny by\nit,\" replied the boy, in a moody tone, intended to arrest further\nquestioning.\n\n\"Road-sweepings?\" repeated the hag, incredulously. \"Belike you don't\nmean it?\"\n\n\"But I do mean it,\" retorted the boy.\n\n\"Oh, well, if you mean it, no doubt it is so. You will see when you\nget to your journey's end!\" and she went on washing and singing her\nditty that was all out of tune.\n\n\"There's mischief in her tone,\" said the boy to himself, \"that's\nclear. But at all events I'm all right: I haven't even let her look\nat the fruit with her evil eye, so there's no harm done.\" But he felt\nperplexed and uneasy, so it was no good taking rest, and he went on\nto the end of his journey.\n\nThough he was only a country lad, the Kaiser was so fond of pears that\nhe had only to say he had brought some to obtain immediate admittance\nto his presence.\n\n\"You have brought me some pears, have you, my boy?\" said the Kaiser,\nin a tone of satisfaction; and he licked his lips with pleasurable\nexpectation.\n\n\"Yes, your majesty; and some of the finest golden pears in your\nmajesty's whole empire.\"\n\nThe Kaiser was so delighted to hear this that he removed the covering\nof leaves himself. But proportionately great was his fury when he\nfound that under the leaves was nothing but offensive sweepings off\nthe road! The attendants who stood by were all equally indignant,\nand waited not for an order from the Kaiser to carry the boy off to\nclose prison, in punishment for so great an insult as he appeared to\nhave offered.\n\n\"It is all that old hag by the fountain,\" he said to himself, the first\nday and the second; but when the penitential discipline of the prison\nled him to think more closely over his own conduct, he acknowledged\nthat he had himself been in the wrong in telling a falsehood.\n\nMeantime, his father, finding he did not return, said to his other\nsons, \"You see what it is to be as wide-awake as your elder brother;\nhe has obviously taken care of his basket of golden pears, and so\npleased the Kaiser that he has given him some great office near his\nperson, and made him a rich man.\"\n\n\"I am just as sharp as he,\" said the second brother: \"give me a Krattle\nof the pears, and let me take them to the Kaiser, and become a rich\nman too; only I won't keep it all for myself. I will send for you,\nand make you a rich man too.\"\n\n\"Well said, my son,\" replied the father; \"for I have worked hard for\nyou all my life, and it is meet that in my old age you should share\nyour ease, which I helped you to attain, with me.\"\n\nAnd as the season for pears had just come round again, he plaited\nanother Krattle, like the first, and lined it with fresh leaves,\nand laid in it a goodly show of the golden pears.\n\nThe second son took the basket, and went his way even in better spirits\nthan his elder brother, for he had the conviction of his success to\nencourage him. But the sun was as hot as it had been the previous year,\nand when, in the middle of the third day, he came to the fountain by\nthe wayside he was glad to sit down to rest and refresh himself.\n\nThe doubled-up old woman stood washing her rags at the fountain and\nsinging her ditty all out of tune. She stopped her croaking, however,\nto ask him the same question as she had asked his brother; and,\nas he and his brother had agreed together on what they considered\na clever answer, he now gave her the same, which she received by\nrepeating the menace she had ejaculated the first time. And when he\nbrought his basket to the Kaiser it also was found to be filled with\nstreet-sweepings instead of pears! With even more of indignation they\nhurried him off to prison, putting him in the next cell to his brother.\n\nMeantime the year was wearing away, and the promised tidings of good\nfortune not reaching the father, he got very uneasy. The third son\nhad no pretension to the sharpness his brothers boasted. He was a very\ndull boy, and often had to endure being laughed at by the others for\nhis slow parts.\n\n\"What a pity it is you are so heavy and stupid!\" his father now would\noften say. \"If I only dared trust you, how glad I should be to send\nyou to see what has befallen your brothers!\"\n\nThe lad was used to hear himself pronounced good-for-nothing,\nand so he did not take much notice of these observations at first,\nbut seeing his father really in distress, his affectionate heart was\nmoved, and he one day summoned courage to say he would go and see if\nhe could not find his brothers.\n\n\"Do you really think you can keep yourself out of harm's\nway?\" exclaimed his father, glad to find him propose to undertake\nthe adventure.\n\n\"I will do whatever you tell me,\" replied the lad.\n\n\"Well, you shan't go empty-handed, at all events,\" said the\nfather. And, as the pears were just ripe again, he laid the choicest\nof the year's stock in another Krattle, and sent him on his way.\n\nThe boy walked along, looking neither to right nor left, but with his\nheart beating, lest he should come across the \"harm\" out of the way\nof which he had promised to keep himself. All went smoothly, however,\nexcept that he got terribly scorched by the sun, and when he reached\nthe fountain, he was glad to sit down to rest and refresh himself.\n\nThe old wife was washing her rags in the water, and singing, as she\npatted the linen, a ditty all out of tune. \"Here comes a third of those\nsurly dogs, I declare!\" she said to herself, as she saw him arrive\nwith another lot of the magnificent pears. \"I suppose he'll be making\ngame of me too--as if I didn't know the scent of ripe golden pears from\nroad-sweepings! a likely matter! But if they enjoy making game of me, I\nhave a splendid revenge to enjoy upon them, so I oughtn't to complain.\"\n\n\"Good-morrow, little mother!\" said the boy, in his blunt way, ere\nhe sat down, at the same time not omitting to doff his cap, as he\nhad been taught, because she happened to be old and ugly--matters of\nwhich he had no very nice appreciation.\n\n\"He's better mannered than the other louts, for all he doesn't look so\nbright-faced,\" said the hag to herself; and she stopped her discordant\nsong to return his greeting.\n\n\"May I sit down here a bit, please, good mother? asked the boy,\nthinking in his simplicity the fountain must belong to her.\n\n\"That you may, and take a draught of the cool water too,\" replied\nthe dame, wondrously propitiated by his civility.\n\n\"And what may it be with which you are so laden, my pretty boy?\" she\ncontinued. \"It ought to be a precious burden to be worth carrying so\nfar as you seem to have come. What have you in your Krattle?\"\n\n\"Precious are the contents, I believe you,\" replied the simple boy; \"at\nleast, so one would think from the store my father sets by them. They\nare true golden pears, and he says there are no finer grown in the\nwhole kingdom; and I am taking them to the Kaiser because he is very\nfond of them.\"\n\n\"Only ripe pears, and yet so heavy?\" returned the old wife; \"one\nwould say it was something heavier than pears. But you'll see when\nyou come to your journey's end.\"\n\nThe boy assured her they were nothing but pears, and as one of his\nfather's injunctions had been not to lose time by the way, he paid\nthe old dame a courteous greeting and continued his journey.\n\nWhen the servants saw another peasant boy from B\u00fcrs come to the\npalace with the story that he had pears for the king, they said,\n\"No, no! we have had enough of that! you may just turn round and go\nback.\" But the poor simple boy was so disappointed at the idea of\ngoing back to be laughed at for not fulfilling his message, that he\nsank down on the door-step and sobbed bitterly, and there he remained\nsobbing till the Kaiser came out.\n\nThe Kaiser had his daughter with him, and when she saw the boy sobbing,\nshe inquired what ailed him; and learnt it was another boy from B\u00fcrs\ncome to insult the Kaiser with a basket of road-sweepings, and asked\nif they should take him off to prison too.\n\n\"But I have got pears!\" sobbed the boy; \"and my father says there\nare no finer in the empire.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes; we know that by heart. That's what the others said!\" replied\nthe servants, jeering; and they would have dragged him away.\n\n\"But won't you look at my pears first, fair lady? the pears that I\nhave brought all this long way for the Kaiser? My father will be so\nsorry!\" for he was too ignorant to feel abashed at the presence of\nthe princess, and he spoke to her with as much confidence as if she\nhad been a village maiden.\n\nThe princess was struck by the earnestness with which he spoke, and\ndecided to see the contents of his basket. The moment he heard her\nconsent, he walked straight up with his Krattle, quite regardless of\nthe whole troop of lacqueys, strong in the justice of his cause.\n\nThe princess removed the covering of leaves, and discovered that what\nhe had brought were golden pears indeed, for each pear, large as it\nwas, was of solid shining metal!\n\n\"These are pears indeed worthy to set before the Kaiser!\" she said,\nand presented them to her father.\n\nThe Kaiser was pleased to see his favourite fruit so splendidly\nimmortalized, and ordered the pears to be laid up in his cabinet of\ncuriosities; but to the boy, for his reward, he ordered that whatever\nhe asked should be given.\n\n\"All I want is to find my two brothers, who hold some great office\nat court,\" said the boy.\n\n\"Your brothers hold office in prison, if they are those I suspect,\"\nsaid the Kaiser, and commanded that they should be brought. The boys\nimmediately ran to embrace each other; and the Kaiser made them each\nrecount all their adventures.\n\n\"You see how dangerous it is to depart from the truth!\" he said,\nwhen they had done. \"And never forget that, with all your cleverness,\nyou might have remained in prison to the end of your days but for\nthe straightforward simplicity of him you thought so inferior to\nyourselves.\"\n\nThen he ordered that the tree which brought forth such excellent\npears should be transplanted to his palace; and to the father and\nhis three sons he gave places among his gardeners, where they lived\nin plenty and were well content.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nHOW THE POOREST BECAME THE RICHEST [99].\n\n\nThere was once a poor peasant, named Taland, who lived in a poor\ncottage in the Walserthal, a valley of Vorarlberg. He was as poor\nin wits as in fortune, so that he was continually making himself the\nlaughing-stock of his neighbours; yet, as he possessed a certain sort\nof cunning, which fortune was pleased to favour, he got on better in\nthe long run than many a wiser man.\n\nPlodding along steadily, and living frugally, Taland, in process of\ntime, laid by enough money to buy a cow; and a cow he bought without\neven stopping to consider that he had no means of pasturing it.\n\nThe cow, however, provided for that by her own instinct; there were\nplenty of good pastures in the neighbourhood, and the cow was not\nslow to discover them. Wherever the grass was freshest and sweetest,\nthither she wandered, and by this token Taland had no difficulty in\nfinding her out at milking time; and in the whole country round there\nwas no sleeker or better-favoured animal.\n\nBut the neighbours at whose expense she fed so well in course of\ntime grew angry; and finding remonstrance vain, they met together and\ndetermined to kill the cow; and, that none might have to bear the blame\nof killing her more than another, every one of them stuck his knife\ninto her. By this means, not only was poor Taland's cow destroyed,\nbut even the hide was riddled with holes, and so rendered useless.\n\nNevertheless, Taland skinned his cow, and plodded away with the hide\nto the nearest tanner, as if he had not the sense to be conscious\nthat it was spoilt. The tanner was not at home, but his wife was able\nto decide without him, that there was no business to be done with\nsuch goods, and she sent him away with a mocking laugh, bidding him\nremember she dealt in hides, and not in sieves.\n\nTaland, however, had come a long way, and having no money to buy food,\nhe begged so piteously for a morsel of refreshment, that the good wife\ncould not refuse, and having spread a table before him with good cheer,\nwent on about her business.\n\nTaland, delighted with the spread, determined to do justice to it;\nand as he sat and ate he saw the tanner's son, an urchin full of\ntricks, hide himself, while his mother's back was turned, in an old\ncorn-bin which stood before the door. He went on eating and drinking,\nand watching the corn-bin, and still the boy never came out, till\nat last, he rightly judged, he had fallen asleep. Meantime, having\nfinished his meal, he turned to take leave of the tanner's wife; and\nthen, as he went away, he said, quite cursorily, \"If you have no use\nfor that old corn-bin yonder--it's just the thing I want--you may as\nwell give it to me, and you won't have sent me away empty-handed.\"\n\n\"What! you want that lumbering, rotten old corn-bin?\" cried the\ntanner's wife; and she laughed more heartily than even at the riddled\ncow-hide. \"And you would carry it all the way home on your shoulders?\"\n\nThe peasant nodded a stupid assent, without speaking.\n\n\"Then take it, pray, and be welcome; for I just wanted to get rid of\nthe unsightly old rubbish!\"\n\nTaland thanked her, and loaded the chest on his shoulder, but\ncarefully, lest he should wake the child too soon. And carefully\nhe continued to walk along with it till the tan-yard was left far,\nfar out of sight. Then he stopped short, and, setting the corn-bin\ndown with a jerk calculated to wake its inmate, he holloaed out,--\n\n\"I be going to fling the old corn-bin down the precipice!\"\n\n\"Stop, stop! I'm inside!\" cried the child, but with a tone of\nconviction that he had only to ask, to be let out. This was not\nTaland's game, who wanted to give him a thorough frightening; so he\nshouted again, taking no heed of the child's voice,--\n\n\"I be going to fling the old corn-bin down the precipice!\"\n\n\"Stop! stop! I tell you; I'm inside it!\" repeated the boy, in a louder\ntone, thinking he had not made himself heard before.\n\n\"Who be you? and what be you to me?\" replied Taland, in a stupid\ntone of indifference. \"I be going to chuck the old corn-bin down\nthe precipice.\"\n\n\"Oh, stop! for heaven's sake, stop!\" screamed the now really affrighted\nchild; \"stop, and spare me! Only let me out, and mother will give\nyou ever such a heap of gold!\"\n\n\"It's a long way back to 'mother,'\" replied the peasant,\nchurlishly. \"I'd much rather chuck the old thing over, and have done\nwith it. You're not worth enough to repay the trouble.\"\n\n\"Oh, but I am though!\" answered the boy, in a positive tone. \"There's\nnothing mother wouldn't give to save my life, I know!\"\n\n\"What would she give, d'you think? Would she give five hundred\nthalers, now?\"\n\n\"Ay, that she would!\"\n\n\"Well, it's a longsome way; but if you promise I shall have five\nhundred thalers, I don't mind if I oblige you.\"\n\n\"You shall have them, safe enough, never fear!\"\n\nOn this promise, Taland took the boy home, and made up a story of his\nsurprise at finding him at the bottom of the old chest, and how hardly\nhe had saved his life. The mother, overjoyed at the idea of her son\nbeing restored to her under such circumstances, readily counted out\nthe five hundred thalers, and sent Taland home a richer man than when\nhis fortune consisted of a cow.\n\nElated with his good fortune, our hero determined to have a bit of\nfun with his spiteful neighbours, and accordingly sat himself down\nin an arbour, where there was a large round table, in front of the\nWirthshaus, and spreading his heap of gold before him, amused himself\nwith counting it out. Of course the sight attracted all the peasants\nof the place, who were just gathering for a gossip on their way home\nfrom work.\n\n\"And where did you get such a heap of gold from?\" asked a dozen\nexcited voices at once.\n\n\"From the sale of the cow-hide, to be sure,\" replied Taland, in an\ninanimate voice.\n\n\"What! the cow-hide all riddled with holes?\" vociferated his\ninterlocutors, in a chorus of ridicule.\n\n\"To be sure; that's just what made it so valuable,\" persisted Taland,\nconfidently.\n\n\"What! the tanner gives more for a hide all full of holes than for\na sound one?\"\n\n\"What's the use of asking so many silly questions?\" returned the\nimperturbable peasant \"Do you see the money? and should I have\ngot such a sum for an ordinary cow-hide? If you can answer these\ntwo questions of mine, you can answer your own for yourselves;\"\nand gathering up his gold, he walked away with a stolid look which\ndefied further interrogations.\n\nThe village wiseacres were all struck with the same idea. If riddled\ncowhides fetched five hundred thalers apiece, the best way to make a\nfortune was to kill all the cows in the commune, pierce their skins all\nover with holes, and carry them to the tanner. Every one went home to\ncalculate what he would make by the venture; and the morning was all\ntoo long coming, so eager were they to put their plan into execution.\n\nTaland, having now plenty of money, had nothing to do next day but to\ndress himself in his feast-day clothes and play at dominoes in the\nBier-garten; but though this was a favourite enjoyment, far sweeter\nwas that of observing the running hither and thither of his spiteful,\nmocking neighbours, slaughtering their sleek kine--the provision of\ntheir future lives--skinning them, and destroying the very skins out\nof which some small compensation might have been earned.\n\nTaland hardly knew how to contain his inclination to laugh, as he saw\nthem caught in his trap so coarsely baited; and the good landlord,\nas he saw the irrepressible giggle again and again convulse his stupid\nfeatures, thought that the gain of the five hundred thalers had fairly\nturned his weak head.\n\nThe peasants had gone off to the tan-yard with their riddled cow-hides,\nmerrily shouting and boasting; and Taland sat at home, drinking\nand laughing. But it was a different story by-and-by. There was a\nsound like the roar of a wild beast, which stopped even Taland's\ninclination to laugh, and made him shrink in his chair. It was the\nlament of the long file of peasants returning from the tan-yard from\ntheir bootless errand, filling the air as they went along with yells\nof fury at their ruin, and imprecations and threats of vengeance on\nhim who had led them into the snare.\n\nTaland had meant to have had his laugh over their discomfiture,\nbut finding them in this mood, he thought his wisest course was to\nkeep out of their sight, lest they should take summary vengeance on\nhim. So he found a corner to hide himself in; and he thus overheard\ntheir debate on the means of punishing their deceiver.\n\n\"He's such shifts for getting out of every thing, that one doesn't\nknow where to have him,\" said the noisiest speaker; and the rest\nre-echoed the sentiment.\n\n\"Ay; it'll never do to let him get scent of what we're up to!\"\n\n\"But how to avoid it?\"\n\n\"Take him asleep.\"\n\n\"Ay; take him when he's asleep; that's the way!\"\n\n\"Go up the stairs and rattle at his window, and when he comes out,\nknock him on the head!\"\n\n\"And every one have a go at him, as we did at his cow.\"\n\n\"That's the plan!\"\n\n\"And the sooner the better.\"\n\n\"This very night, before we go to bed!\"\n\n\"To be sure; we won't sleep tamely upon such an affront.\"\n\n\"No; we'll make an end of it, that we will!\"\n\n\"And it's time we did.\"\n\n\"Another day would be unbearable!\"\n\n\"Another hour is bad enough; but we must keep quiet till he's well\nasleep.\"\n\n\"Yes; there's nothing to be done till midnight.\"\n\n\"We'll meet again at midnight, then.\"\n\n\"All right; we shall all be there!\"\n\n\"Good-bye, then, till midnight!\"\n\n\"Good-bye, till midnight; good-bye!\"\n\nThey all spoke at once, and the whole dark plan was concocted in a\nfew minutes; then they dispersed to their homes with resolute steps.\n\nTaland listened to the sound with beating heart, and as soon as\nsilence once more prevailed, he stole stealthily homewards.\n\nHis wife was sitting over her spinning-wheel.\n\n\"I've caught a cold wearing these holiday clothes out of their turn,\"\nsaid Taland; \"will you do me the favour to sleep in the window-sill,\nand keep that flapping shutter close, good wife?\"\n\n\"With all my heart,\" responded the compliant spouse; and thus disposed,\nthey went to rest.\n\nAt midnight the villagers came, faithful to their appointment, in a\nstrong body, and mounted the stairs [100] as quietly as might be. The\nforemost pushed open the shutter, and exclaimed, \"Why, here's the\nold idiot lying ready for us, across the window-sill!\"\n\n\"Then we're spared the trouble of hunting for him,\" exclaimed the next.\n\n\"So here goes!\" cried all together; and they showered their blows on\nthe devoted body of the old wife, while Taland, comfortably enveloped\nin his coverlet, once more laughed at the success of his deceit,\nand the discomfiture of his foes.\n\nTowards morning he rose, and taking up the dead body, placed it in\na chair, and bore it along, together with the old spinning-wheel,\na good distance down the high road; and there he left it, while he\nsat behind a bush to see what would happen.\n\nPresently a fine lord came along the road driving a noble chariot.\n\n\"Holloa, good woman! get out of the way!\" shouted the lord, while yet\nat a considerable distance; for he thought the old woman was silly,\nspinning in the roadway. But the corpse moved not for his shouting.\n\n\"Holloa! holloa, I say! you'll be killed! move, can't you?\" he cried,\nthinking she was deaf, and hadn't heard his first appeal. But still\nthe corpse moved not.\n\n\"Get out of the way! get out of the road! can't you?\" at last fairly\nscreamed the lord; for, never dreaming but that the woman would move\nin time, he had not reined in his fiery steeds--and now it was all\ntoo late! On one side went the old lady in the chair, and on the\nother side the fragments of the spinning-wheel, while the chariot\ndashed wildly on between them.\n\n\"What have I done?\" said the lord, alighting from his chariot as soon\nas he could stop, and looking round him in wild despair.\n\n\"Why, you've run over and killed my old mother! that's what you've\ndone!\" said Taland, emerging from his hiding-place. \"And now you must\ncome with me before the judge.\"\n\n\"Really, I meant no harm,\" pleaded the good lord; \"I called to her to\nget out of the way, and I couldn't help it if she was deaf. But I'll\nmake you what compensation you like. What do you say to accepting my\nchariot full of gold, and the horses and all, to drive home with?\"\n\n\"Why, if you say you couldn't help it, I suppose you couldn't,\" replied\nTaland. \"I don't want to hurt you; and since you offer fair terms,\nI'm willing to accept your chariot full of gold, and the horses to\ndrive it home. I'll square the account to your satisfaction.\"\n\nSo the lord took him home to his castle and filled up the chariot\nwith gold, and put the reins in his hands, and sent him home richer\nand merrier than if the neighbours had never attempted his life.\n\nWhen these same envious neighbours, however, saw him coming home in the\nchariot full of gold, driving the prancing horses quite gravit\u00eatisch\n[101], they knew not what to make of it. And that, too, just as they\nwere congratulating themselves that they had made an end of him!\n\n\"It must be his ghost!\" they cried. There was no other way of\naccounting for the reappearance. But as he drove nearer, there was\nno denying that it was his very self in flesh and blood!\n\n\"Where do you come from? where did you get all that heap of money\nfrom? and what story are you going to palm off on us this time?\" were\nquestions which were showered down on him like hail.\n\nTaland knew how easily they let themselves be ensnared, and that the\nreal story would do as well this time as any he could make up, so he\ntold them exactly what had happened, and then whipped his horses into\na canter which dispersed them right and left, while he drove home as\ngravit\u00eatisch as before.\n\nNor was he wrong in expecting his bait to take. With one accord the\npeasants all went home and killed their wives, and set them, with their\nspinningwheels before them, all along the road. Of course, however,\nno lucky chance occurred such as Taland's--no file of noblemen driving\nlordly chariots, and silly enough to mistake the dead for the living,\ncame by; and while Taland was rich enough to marry the best woman in\nthe place, they had all to bury their wives and live alone in their\ndesolated homes.\n\nTo have been so tricked was indeed enough to raise their ire; and the\nonly consolation amid their gloom was to meet and concoct some plan\nfor taking signal and final vengeance. This was at last found. They\nwere to seize him by night, as before; but this time they were not\nto beat him to death in the dark, but keep him bound till daylight,\nand make sure of their man, then bind him in a sack and throw him\nover the precipice of the Hoch Gerach.\n\nAs Taland was not by to overhear and provide against the arrangement,\nit was carried out to the letter this time; and all tied in a sack\nthe struggling victim was borne along in triumph towards the Hoch\nGerach. They had already passed the village of St. Gerold, and the\nfatal gorge forced through the wall of living rock by the incessant\nworld-old wear of rushing torrents was nearly reached. Taland,\nparalyzed with fear and exhaustion, had desisted from his contortions\nfor very weariness.\n\nThe H\u00e4usergruppe [102] of Felsenau, standing like a sentinel on guard\nof the narrow hollow, had yet to be passed. It was near midday, and\nthe toil of the ascent had been great. Not one of the party objected\nto take a snatch of rest and a sip of brandy to give them courage to\ncomplete the deed in hand.\n\nWhile they sat drinking in the shade of the cottage which stood\nFelsenau in lieu of a Wirthshaus, Taland was left lying on a grassy\nbank in the sun. About the same time a goatherd, driving his flock into\nBludenz to be milked, came by that way, and seeing the strangely-shaped\nsack with something moving inside, arrested his steps to examine into\nthe affair. Taland, finding some one meddling with the mouth of the\nsack, holloaed out,--\n\n\"List'ee! I'll have nothing to do with the princess!\"\n\n\"What princess?\" inquired the goatherd.\n\n\"Why, the princess I was to marry. B'aint you the king?\"\n\n\"What king?\" again asked the goatherd, more and more puzzled.\n\n\"I can't talk while I'm stifled in here,\" replied Taland. \"Let me out,\nand I'll tell you all about it.\"\n\nThe curious goatherd released the captive from the bag, and he told his\ntale as follows. \"The king has got a beautiful daughter--so beautiful\nthat such a number of suitors come after her she cannot decide between\nthem all. At last the king got tired, and said he would decide for her;\nand this morning he proclaimed that whoever could bear being carried\nabout for seven hours in this sack should have her, be he peasant or\nprince. So I thought I might try my luck at it as well as another;\nand those chaps you hear talking in the little house yonder have been\ncarrying me about for three hours, but I can't stand more of it,\nand away I go;\" and he looked up anxiously to see if the bait had\ntaken; for he wanted the other to propose to get into the sack, as,\nif he had walked away and left it empty, he knew the villagers would\npursue and overtake him. Nor was he mistaken in his calculation.\n\n\"It doesn't seem so hard to bear,\" said the goatherd, after some\nmoments' consideration.\n\n\"Would you like to try?\" inquired Taland, anxiously; \"it won't be so\nbad for you, as, if you get in now, the men won't perceive we have\nchanged places, and you'll get the benefit of three hours for nothing.\"\n\n\"You're really very kind!\" responded the goatherd, drawing the sack\nover him; \"I don't know how to thank you enough. I'm sure I can stand\nfour hours easily enough, for the sake of being reckoned a king's son\nat the end. I shan't want the goats, however, when I'm married to a\nprincess, so pray take them at a gift--only make fast the cords of the\nsack so that the men may not perceive that it has been meddled with.\"\n\nTaland tied up the sack exactly as it had been before, and drove home\nthe flock of goats.\n\nHe was scarcely out of sight when the men, now well rested, came out,\nand having taken up the sack again, carried it up the Hoch Gerach;\nand just as the unhappy goatherd within fancied he was reaching the\ntop of some high terrace leading to the royal palace, bang, bang from\nrock to rock he found himself dashed by the relentless villagers!\n\nConfident that the job was now effectually completed, they trooped\nhome full of rejoicing over their feat.\n\nThe first thing that met their eye, however, was Taland seated before\nhis door, just as if nothing had happened, milking the goats which\nbrowsed around him, making a goodly show.\n\nToo much awed at the sight to rush at and seize him, they once more\nasked him to give explanation of his unlooked-for return, and of how\nhe became possessed of such a fine herd of goats.\n\n\"Nothing easier!\" replied Taland, gravit\u00eatisch. \"Where shall I begin?\"\n\n\"From where you were thrown over the mountain-side.\"\n\n\"All right!\" pursued Taland. \"Well, then, as you may suppose, I\nstruggled hard to get out of the sack, but it was too tough, and\nI could do nothing with it at first; but, by-and-by, from knocking\nagainst the jutting rocks again and again, it got a rent, and this\nrent I was able to tear open wide, so that by the time I got to the\nbottom there was a big hole, big enough to get out by. And where do\nyou think I found myself when I got out? In the enchanted regions of\nthe underground world, where the sky is tenfold as blue as it is here,\nand the meadows tenfold as green! It was so beautiful to look at that I\ngladly wandered on a little space. Presently I found a way that led up\nhome again; but I had no mind to come away from the beautiful country\ntill I saw, climbing the rocks by the side of the path, numbers of\ngoats, much finer than any goats we ever see in these parts.\"\n\n\"So they are! so they are!\" chimed in the gullible multitude.\n\n\"Then I thought it would be fine to bring a flock of such fine goats\nhome--and, after all, it was easy to go back again when I wanted\nto see that deep blue sky and those rich pastures again; so home I\ncame. Here am I, and here are the goats; and if you don't believe I\ngot them there, you can go and fetch some thence and compare them.\"\n\n\"But shall we really find such goats if we go?\" eagerly inquired the\ncredulous villagers.\n\n\"To be sure you will--and sheep, and oxen, and cows too, without\nnumber.\"\n\n\"Cows too! Oh, let's come and supply ourselves, and make good our\nlosses! But first show the way you came up by.\"\n\n\"Oh, it's a long, steep, weary way, and would take you two days\nto get down! Much the nearest way is to jump down the side of the\nHoch Gerach.\"\n\n\"But are you sure we shan't hurt ourselves? Didn't you get hurt\nat all?\"\n\n\"Not a bit. Feel me; I'm quite sound.\"\n\n\"To be sure, you couldn't hurt falling on to such soft, beautiful\nmeadows!\" they replied; and off they set, only eager which should\nreach the Hoch Gerach first, and which should be the first to make\nthe bold spring, and which should have the first pick and choice of\nthe fair flocks and herds in the enchanted world underground!\n\nSlap! bang! plump! they all went over the side of the Hoch Gerach,\none after the other, never to return! And Taland thus alone remained\nto inherit the houses and goods of the whole village, all for\nhimself--and, from being the poorest of all, became possessed of the\nriches of all.\n\n\n\n                                THE END.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nNOTES\n\n\n[1] It is common in England to speak of Tirol as \"the Tyrol;\" I have\nused the name according to the custom of the country itself.\n\n[2] The name for \"the wild huntsman\" in North and South Tirol.\n\n[3] The Beatr\u00eck of the Italian Tirol is, however, a milder spirit\nthan the Wilder J\u00e4ger of the northern provinces. He is also called\nil cacciatore della pia caccia, because he is supposed only to hunt\nevil spirits.\n\n[4] The name in Vorarlberg.\n\n[5] The three helpers against the plague. There are many churches so\ncalled in Tirol.\n\n[6]    \"Schliess die Kammer fein,\n        Sonst kommt der Norg herein.\"\n\n[7] The Meierhof was the homestead of a small proprietor standing\nmidway between the peasant and the noble.\n\n[8] Mistress of the Meierhof.\n\n[9] Literally, \"high lakes;\" i. e. lakes on a high mountain\nlevel. There are three such in the valley of Matsch, the inundations\nof which often work sad havoc.\n\n[10]   \"Morgen oder Heut\n        Kommt die Zahlzeit.\"\n\n[11] The \"home of the wolves;\" a nickname given to Matsch, because\nstill infested by wolves.\n\n[12] On Midsummer-day.\n\n[13] The local names of two favourite kinds of grass.\n\n[14] St. Martin is considered the patron of mountain pastures in Tirol.\n\n[15] That the Norgs should be at one time represented as incapable of\ncomprehending what death was, and that at another their race should\nbe spoken of as dying out, is but one of those inconsistencies which\nmust constantly occur when it is attempted to describe a supernatural\norder of things by an imagery taken from the natural order.\n\n[16] From tarnen, to conceal, and Haut, skin; a tight-fitting\ngarment which was supposed to have the property of rendering the\nwearer invisible. It was likewise sometimes supposed to convey great\nstrength also.\n\n[17] Literally, \"crystal palace.\" Burg means a palace no less than\na citadel or fortress; the imperial palace in Vienna has no other name.\n\n[18] Ignaz von Zingerle, in discussing the sites which various local\ntraditions claim for the Rosengarten of King Lareyn, or Laurin, says,\n\"Whoever has once enjoyed the sight of the Dolomite peaks of the\nSchlern bathed in the rosy light of the evening glow cannot help\nfancying himself at once transported into the world of myths, and\nwill be irresistibly inclined to place the fragrant Rose-garden on\nits strangely jagged heights, studded by nature with violet amethysts,\nand even now carpeted with the most exquisite mountain-flora of Tirol.\"\n\n[19] Cornfield.\n\n[20] Nobleman's residence.\n\n[21] In the medi\u00e6val poems the shade of the Lindenbaum is the favourite\nscene of gallant adventures.\n\n[22] The heroes of the old German poetry are frequently called by the\nepithet \"sword\"--ein Degen stark; ein Degen hehr; Wittich der Degen,\n&c., &c.\n\n[23] Hildebrand, son of Duke Herbrand and brother of the Monk Ilsau,\none of the persons of the romance of \"Kriemhild's Rose-garden,\" is the\nNestor of German myths. He was the instructor of Dietrich von Bern\n(Theodoric of Verona). We find him sought as the wise counsellor in\nvarious undertakings celebrated in the medi\u00e6val epics; he is reputed\nto have lived to the age of 200 years.\n\n[24] This was commonly the office of the daughter of the house.\n\n[25] This would appear to have been the usual custom in the middle\nages after a meal.\n\n[26] See note, p. 35.\n\n[27] The German legends are inclined to extol the heroism of Dietrich\nvon Bern, better known to us as Theodoric, King of the Visigoths, who,\nafter his conquests in Italy, built a palace at Verona, and made it\nhis seat of government; but the traditions of Verona ascribe his great\nstrength and success, both as a hunter and warrior, to a compact with\nthe Evil One. His connexion with the Arians, his opposition towards\nthe Popes, and his violent destruction of the churches of Verona,\nwere sufficient to convince the popular mind at his date that his\nstrength was not from above. Procopius relates that his remorse for\nthe death of Symmachus haunted him so, that one day when the head of a\ngreat fish was served at table, it appeared to him as the head of his\nmurdered relative, and he became so horrified that he was never able to\neat any thing afterwards. The Veronese tradition is, that by his pact\nwith the devil, evil spirits served him in the form of dogs, horses,\nand huntsmen, until the time came that they drove him forth into\ntheir own abode (Mattei Verona Illustrata). In the church of St. Zeno\nat Verona this legend may be seen sculptured in bas-relief over the\ndoor. In the mythology of some parts of Germany he is identified,\nor confounded, with the Wild Huntsman (B\u00f6rner, Sagen aus dem Orlagau,\npp. 213, 216, 236). In the Heldenbuch he is called the son of an evil\nspirit. He is there distinguished by a fiery breath, with which he\novercomes dwarfs and giants; but he is said to be ultimately carried\noff into the wilds by a demon-horse, upon which he has every day to\nfight with two terrible dragons until the Judgment Day. Nork cites\na passage from Luther's works, in which he speaks of him (cursorily)\nas the incarnation of evil, showing how he was regarded in Germany at\nhis day (\"It is as if I should undertake to make Christ out of Dietrich\nvon Bern\"--Als wenn ich aus Dietrich von Bern Christum machen wollte).\n\n[28] Wigand, man of valour.\n\n[29] We often find the heroes' trusty swords called by a particular\nname: thus Orlando's was called Durindarda, it is so inscribed in\nhis statue in the porch of the Duomo at Verona; and the name of King\nArthur's will occur to every one's memory.\n\n[30] Him of Verona.\n\n[31] This hardening power of dragons' blood was one of the medi\u00e6val\nfables.\n\n[32] Bearing a red banner thus was equivalent to a declaration of\nhostile intent.\n\n[33] These it was knightly custom for the vanquished to surrender to\nhim who had overcome him.\n\n[34] The Styrian.\n\n[35] A Schirmschlag was a scientifically-manoeuvred stroke, by which\nhe who dealt it concealed himself behind his shield while he aimed\nat any part of his adversary's body which presented an undefended\nmark. But Theodoric drew the stroke without even having a shield for\nhis own defence.\n\n[36] The Norgs are not always spoken of as pagans; many stories of\nthem seem to consider them as amenable to Christian precepts. The\nancient church of the village of St. Peter, near the Castle of Tirol,\nis said by popular tradition to have been built by them, and under\npeculiar difficulties; for while they were at work, a giant who lived\nin Schloss Tirol used to come every night and destroy what they had\ndone in the day, till at last they agreed to assemble in great force,\nand complete the whole church in one day, which they did; and then,\nbeing a complete work offered to the service of God, the giant had\nno more power over it.\n\n[37] It was an old German custom that no flagons or vessels of the\ndrinks should be put on the table; but as soon as a glass was emptied\nit was refilled by watchful attendants.\n\n[38] Lautertrank, by the description of its composition, seems to\nhave been nearly identical with our claret-cup. Moras was composed\nof the juice of mulberries mixed with good old wine.\n\n[39] Concerning Theodoric's fiery breath, see note, p. 39. All the\nmyths about him mention it. The following description of it occurs\nin the legends of \"Criemhild's Rosengarten:\"--\n\n\n    \"Wie ein Haus das dampfet, wenn man es z\u00fcndet an,\n    So musste Dietrich rauchen, der zornige Mann.\n    Man sah eine rothe Flamme geh'n aus seinem Mund.\"\n\n\n[\"As a house smokes when it is set on fire, so was the breath of\nTheodoric, the man of great anger; a red flame might be seen darting\nfrom his mouth.\"]\n\n[40] The power of the Norgs to pass in and out through the rock is one\nof the characteristics most prominently fabled of them. Sometimes we\nhear of doors which opened spontaneously at their approach, but more\noften the marvel of their passing in and out without any apparent\nopening is descanted on.\n\n[41] The value and efficacy ascribed in the old myths to a virgin's\nblessing is one form in which the regard for maiden honour was\nexpressed.\n\n[42] The dwarfs who were considered the genii of the mineral\nwealth of the country were a sub-class of the genus dwarf.\nTheir myths are found more abundantly in North Tirol,\nwhere the chief mines were worked.\n\n[43] A deserted mine is called in local dialect taub.\n\n[44] Miners.\n\n[45] i.e. Joseph of Goign, a village near St. Johann. Such modes of\ndesignation are found for every one, among the people in Tirol.\n\n[46] Ann.\n\n[47] Every body wears feathers according to their fancy in their\n\"Alpine hats\" here, but in Tirol every such adornment is a distinction\nwon by merit, whether in target-shooting, wrestling, or any other\nmanly sport; and, like the medals of the soldier, can only be worn\nby those who have made good their claim.\n\n[48] Hof, in Tirol, denotes the proprietorship of a comfortable\nhomestead.\n\n[49] To Spaniards the outline of a mountain-ridge suggests the edge\nof a saw--sierra; to the Tirolese the more indented sky-line familiar\nto them recalls the teeth of a comb.\n\n[50] Garnets and carbuncles are found in Tirol in the Zillerthal,\nand the search after them has given rise to some fantastic tales--of\nwhich later.\n\n[51] Carbuncle.\n\n[52] Pray for him.\n\n[53] District.\n\n[54] Wild Georgey.\n\n[55] In some parts of Tirol where the pastures are on steep slopes,\nor reached by difficult paths--particularly the Zillerthal, on which\nthe scene of the present story borders--it is the custom to decide\nwhich of the cattle is fit for the post of leader of the herd by trial\nof battle. The victor is afterwards marched through the commune to\nthe sound of bells and music, and decked with garlands of flowers.\n\n[56] \"Just as I wanted you.\"\n\n[57] Little Frederick.\n\n[58] A local expression for a village f\u00eate.\n\n[59] The old race of innkeepers in Tirol were a singularly trustworthy,\nhonourable set, acting as a sort of elder or umpire each over his\nvillage. This is still the case in a great many valleys out of the\nbeaten track.\n\n[60] \"Have mercy on them!\"\n\n[61] The cry which in South Germany is equivalent to our \"hurrah!\"\n\n[62] Page 76.\n\n[63] Little Elizabeth.\n\n[64] A local word in the Passeier-Thal for a poultry-maid.\n\n[65] \"Ich zeige Sie wo der Zimmermann das Loch gemacht hat.\" A Tirolese\nsaying for, \"I'll soon show you the way to the door.\"\n\n[66] Another form of Klein-Else: Else, with the diminutive, chen.\n\n[67] This curious name was borne by a Margrave of Istria,\nand three other princes at least who ruled over part of Tirol,\nand who figure in the authentic history of the country. It\ndoes not appear that the present story, however, is referable\nto traditions of the life of any of these.\n\n[68] The best public room in a Tirolese inn is so called.\n\n[69] The homestead of a peasant proprietor.\n\n[70] The local name of the holiday cap of the Sarnthaler women.\n\n[71] Lieblingsb\u00e4nder.\n\n[72] Alp is used in Tirol for the green mountain pastures.\n\n[73] Alpine herdsman.\n\n[74] See Preface.\n\n[75] Joch is used in Tirol when speaking of a moderately high mountain;\nin most other mountain districts of Germany it means only a pass\nor col.\n\n[76] A high-lying range of mountain pasture-land.\n\n[77] The stories of our Lord's life on earth, treated with perfect\nidealism, sketching His character as He was pleased to\nmanifest it, or His miraculous acts, pervade the popular mythology\nof all Catholic peoples. I have given one from Spain,\nby the title of \"Where One can Dine, Two can Dine,\" in\n\"Patra\u00f1as,\" of the same character as this Tirolese one; and\nperhaps it is not amiss to repeat the observation I felt called\nto make upon it,--that it would be the greatest mistake to\nimagine that anything like irreverence was intended in such\nstories. They are the simple utterances of peoples who\nrealized so utterly and so devoutly the facts recorded in the\nGospels that the circumstances of time and place ceased to\noccupy them at all, and who were wont to make the study\nof our Lord's example their rule of conduct so habitually, that\nto imagine Him sharing the accidents of their own daily life\ncame more natural to them than to think of Him in the far-off\nEast. These stories were probably either adapted from\nthe personal traditions which the first evangelists may well\nbe thought to have brought with them unwritten, or invented\nby themselves, in all good faith, as allegories, by means of\nwhich to inculcate by them upon their children the application\nof His maxims to their own daily acts. They demand, therefore,\nto be read in this spirit for the sake of the pious intention\nin which they are conceived, rather than criticised for\ntheir rude simplicity or their anachronisms.\n\n[78] \"Praised be Jesus Christ!\" This was formerly the universal\ngreeting all over Tirol in the house or on the road, for friend or\nstranger, who answered, \"For ever and ever. Amen.\" It is still in\ncommon use in many parts.\n\n[79] I must beg my readers to apply the apology contained in\nthe note to the last story, in its measure to this one also.\n\n[80] Sorella, sister; with the augmentative ona, the bigger or\nelder sister.\n\n[81] The little, or younger, sister.\n\n[82] We say, \"a head of celery;\" in Italy they say, \"a foot of celery.\"\n\n[83] A favourite vintage of Tirol.\n\n[84] Arativo and prativo are dialectic in W\u00e4lsch Tirol for arable\nand pasture land.\n\n[85] \"On our right soared the implacable ridges of the Marmolata,\"\nwrites a modern traveller; \"the sheer, hard smoothness of whose\nscarped rocks filled one with a kind of horror only to look at them.\"\n\n[86] \"We have hay in the stables, and more also in the meadow.\"\n\n[87] Berg-Segen (literally \"mountain-blessing\") is the form in which\nTirol in its piety expresses the ordinary word crop.\n\n[88] See Preface.\n\n[89] Two kinds of more or less mischievous strie, or wild fairies.\n\n[90] \"Fearless Johnny.\" John is a favourite name in W\u00e4lsch\nTirol, and bears some twenty or thirty variations, as Giovannazzi,\nGianaselli, Gianot, Zanetto, Zanolini, Zuani, Degiampietro\n(John Peter), Zangiacomi (John James), &c.\n\n[91] The Latin name of the god of hell remains throughout Italy,\nand holds in its nurseries the place of \"Old Bogie\" with us.\n\n[92] \"Earthly soul, stand off three paces, and tell me your grief.\"\n\n[93] Vine-trellis.\n\n[94] Tapestry hanging before a door.\n\n[95] Witch.\n\n[96] A wayside cross under a little penthouse, such as is to be met\nat every turn of the road in Tirol.\n\n[97] The south wind, which does much mischief at certain times of\nthe year, and is most dreaded in Vorarlberg.\n\n[98] Dialectic for a basket in Vorarlberg.\n\n[99] It has been my aim generally, in making this collection, to\ngive the preference to those stories which have a moral point\nto recommend them; my readers will not, perhaps, take it\namiss, however, if I present them with this specimen of a\nclass in which this is wanting, and which aims only at\namusement. It is, moreover, interesting from the strong\nevidence it bears of extremely remote origin; for the light\nway in which putting people to death, deception, and selfishness\nare spoken of prove it has a pre-Christian source, while\nthe unimportant accessories show how details get modified\nby transmission.\n\n[100] It must be understood that it is an outside staircase that is\nhere alluded to, and the shutter of an unglazed window on its landing\nserving for a door also.\n\n[101] In a lordly manner.\n\n[102] A cluster of houses too small to be designated a village.","title":"Household stories from the Land of Hofer; or, Popular Myths of Tirol","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":99430}