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diff --git a/old/52417-0.txt b/old/52417-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 7ab14ce..0000000 --- a/old/52417-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7998 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Legends from River & Mountain, by -Carmen Sylva and Alma Strettell - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Legends from River & Mountain - -Author: Carmen Sylva - Alma Strettell - -Illustrator: T. H. Robinson - -Release Date: June 26, 2016 [EBook #52417] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEGENDS FROM RIVER & MOUNTAIN *** - - - - -Produced by Suzanne Shell, Paul Clark and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) - - - - - - - - - -LEGENDS FROM RIVER AND MOUNTAIN - - -[Illustration] - - -[Illustration: FROM “THE CAVE OF JALOMITZA.”--_p. 146._ - -But thereupon the horse was changed into a hawk, that shot down from a -giddy height, and bore her away in his talons.] - - - - - Legends from * * * * * - River & Mountain - By Carmen Sylva (H.M. the - Queen of Roumania) and Alma - Strettell. With Illustrations - by T. H. Robinson - - London: George Allen - 156 Charing Cross Road - 1896 - - - - - Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co. - At the Ballantyne Press - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - -The first ten of these stories are taken from the German of Carmen -Sylva, who has kindly given the translator her special permission to -add them to the following collection of legends. The originals are to -be found in her charming volumes of Roumanian tales: “Pelesch Märchen” -and “Durch die Jahrhunderte.” - -Many of them are associated with the mountains which surround her -home among the pine-woods of Sinaia; others belong to the districts -traversed by the Pelesch river, the merry stream that dashes through -the ravine at the foot of her garden, “whispering all sorts of wonders -and secrets to those who have ears to hear.” - -The remaining tales in the volume are collected from different parts -of Germany. “The Little Glass-man,” a legend of the Black Forest, is -taken from “Hauff’s Märchen”; the other stories are all compiled from, -or founded upon, legends to be met with in various German collections, -such as Ziehnert’s, Pröhle’s, &c.[1] Most of them, however, are there -set forth in so condensed a form, and with such scanty detail, that -they could hardly prove of interest as stories, and therefore, they -have in sundry cases been somewhat amplified and developed; or, where -there was a resemblance between several legends belonging to different -districts, indicating that they had a common source, their varying -incidents have been worked into one tale. - -It will be seen that the latter part, at least, of this volume makes -no claim to be considered as an addition to the serious literature of -Folk-lore. Its endeavour is rather to furnish the younger readers of -the present generation with a fresh supply of stories--half legend, -half fairy-tale--of a kind with which the children of an earlier day -were familiar, but which are now less often to be met with; stories -which came to them also from foreign lands, and were invested with a -charm which it has been vainly sought, as the compiler fears, to impart -to the present series. - - -_September 1895._ - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - I. THE JIPI. (_Roumania_) 1 - - II. THE SERPENT-ISLE. (_Roumania_) 19 - - III. VÎRFUL CU DOR. (_Roumania_) 37 - - IV. FURNICA. (_Roumania_) 55 - - V. THE CARAIMAN. (_Roumania_) 69 - - VI. THE STAGS’ VALLEY. (_Roumania_) 81 - - VII. THE WITCH’S STRONGHOLD. (_Roumania_) 101 - - VIII. PIATRA ARSA. (_Roumania_) 121 - - IX. RÎUL DOAMNEI. (_Roumania_) 131 - - X. THE CAVE OF JALOMITZA. (_Roumania_) 139 - - XI. THE NIXIES’ CLEFT. (_Saxony_) 149 - - XII. THE FLYING CASTLE. (_The Hartz Mountains and Baden_) 163 - - XIII. THE SILVER NAIL. (_The Hartz Mountains_) 177 - - XIV. A DOUBTING LOVER. (_The Riesengebirge_) 195 - - XV. A LEGEND OF WALPURGIS-NIGHT. (_The Hartz Mountains_) 203 - - XVI. SEEKERS AFTER GOLD. (_Saxony and the Hartz Mountains_) 215 - - XVII. THE MAIDEN’S ROCK. (_The Elbe_) 239 - - XVIII. THE WATER-SNAKE. (_The Hartz Country_) 251 - - XIX. THE LITTLE GLASS-MAN. (_The Black Forest_)-- - - I. THE SUNDAY-CHILD 271 - - II. THE COLD HEART 302 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - - FRONTISPIECE _To face Title_ - - _But thereupon the horse was changed into a hawk, that - shot down from a giddy height, and bore her away in his - talons._ (From “The Cave of Jalomitza.”) - - - PAGE - - THE JIPI 3 - - _And ere one of them could stretch out a hand she had - flown like a bird over the edge of the cliff_ 15 - - - THE SERPENT ISLE 21 - - _So he manned a sail-boat with stout rowers, took - provisions with him for several days, and set out across - the sea_ 23 - - _Presently a little boy ran up to him and cried in - pleading tones_, “_Take me away with thee_” 31 - - - VÎRFUL CU DOR 39 - - _A little to one side, a handsome shepherd stood leaning - upon his staff_ 41 - - _From every side came the cry_, “_Thou goodly youth, be - mine! Come with me!_” 45 - - - FURNICA 57 - - - THE CARAIMAN 71 - - _But at the sight of them he burst into such - laughter_---- 77 - - - THE STAGS’ VALLEY 83 - - _The maiden gazed earnestly at one and another_ 87 - - _But the poor mother rose up with fixed gaze, and lifting - her arms to the clouds, she cried, “May ye then turn to - stone!”_ 97 - - - THE WITCH’S STRONGHOLD 103 - - _“But a while ago a beautiful creature came up our - mountain”_ 107 - - _With these words she began to scatter down jewels in - endless quantities upon the horsemen_ 117 - - - PIATRA ARSA 123 - - _Looking up, they saw that one of the rocky peaks of the - Bucegi seemed all aglow_ To face 126 - - - RÎUL DOAMNEI 133 - - _And behold! the river was no longer brown, but clear and - blue as the air_ To face 138 - - - THE CAVE OF JALOMITZA 141 - - _Jalomitza followed it the whole night through, without - knowing whither she went_ 145 - - - THE NIXIES’ CLEFT 151 - - - THE FLYING CASTLE 165 - - _For the first time her heart sank, and she almost turned - back_ 170 - - - THE SILVER NAIL 179 - - _And declaring that he would have no more gaping fools - in his house, disturbing his honeymoon, he drove the - neighbours forth_ 189 - - - A DOUBTING LOVER 197 - - _Yet even now she would sometimes draw aside from her - young companions, as they paced the gardens or terrace - together_ To face 200 - - - A LEGEND OF WALPURGIS-NIGHT 205 - - _The company was arriving in great numbers_ 207 - - _But in a moment the tables were turned, and he found - himself in an unexpected position_ 211 - - - SEEKERS AFTER GOLD 217 - - - THE MAIDEN’S ROCK 241 - - _And in the twinkling of an eye had rushed like a storm - up the rocky ascent, and fallen upon the luckless lovers_ - 249 - - - THE WATER-SNAKE 253 - - - THE LITTLE GLASS-MAN. PART I 271 - - - THE LITTLE GLASS-MAN. PART II 302 - - _He lifted it from the jar, tore open Peter’s jerkin, - pulled the stone from his breast, and held it before him_ 323 - - - - -I - -THE JIPI - -[Illustration] - - -There is in Roumania a group of mountains named the Bucegi-group. Among -these the two peaks of Jipi tower aloft, close together, as though -gazing defiantly at one another, and between them the Urlatoare, or -“roaring stream,” dashes down, a cloud-like waterfall, into the valley -below, and storms onward over every barrier towards the town of Prahova. - -They say that long, long ago the Jipi were twin-brothers, who loved -each other so well that one could not live without the other, or eat a -mouthful of bread the other did not share; nay, more--that when one was -asked a question, the other answered it, and that when one did himself -some hurt, the other wept and would not be comforted. They were as fair -as morning and evening, as slender and straight as lances, as swift as -arrows, as strong as young bears. The mother who had borne them looked -upon them with pride and joy, and would say, as she stroked their curly -heads, “Andrei and Mirea, my beautiful sons, may your fame become so -great that even the stones shall discourse of it.” - -They were of noble blood, and dwelt in a castle upon a lofty crag, -where they lorded it as though the whole world belonged to them. They -often jestingly declared that they should have to wed one wife only -between them, since they were sure never to find two quite alike, and -that the best plan would be for them never to wed at all. But of this -their mother would not hear, for she longed to cradle her sons’ sons -upon her knee and sing them lullabies. - -She would often sing the ancient lays of their country to her boys, of -an evening, while she sat spinning and the noble lads hung fondly about -her. Andrei would kneel at her feet, while Mirea leant upon the arm of -her chair, and drew in the sweet scent of the heavy, dark braids that -shone lustrous through her delicate white veil. - -“Our mother is still quite a young woman,” said Andrei. - -“Yes, indeed,” cried Mirea; “she has not yet a single grey hair.” - -“Nor a wrinkle,” rejoined Andrei. - -“We shall find no wife worth our mother,” continued Mirea, kissing the -veil upon her head. - -“Thou dost cast them all into the shade,” laughed Andrei, and kissed -the fingers that were spinning such wondrous fine threads. - -“Our father was a happy man,” cried the one. “And we are lucky -children,” rejoined the other. Then the mother would smile at the -tender dialogue, and tell them tales of their grandmother, and of the -rough times she lived in--of her stern father and yet sterner husband. - -The meals that the three partook of together were as merry as though -the house had been full of company; and, indeed, when guests were -really present they grew graver, as beseemed the dignity of their -house. They were the most kindly of hosts, and spent many a night -upon the bare ground, that their soft couch might be given up to some -stranger guest. All who entered there felt at ease in that happy home, -wherein love made its dwelling. - -One day the two brothers were out hunting a bear that had been making -sore havoc in the district. They climbed up the steepest of their -cliffs to find him, and got at last upon his track, as a loud growling -and a shower of dislodged stones betokened. At the very moment, -however, that Mirea was about to cast his spear, another flew out of -the underbrush hard by and smote the beast in the vitals. A peal of -silvery laughter followed the stroke. Then the bear, growling with -rage, rose upon his hinder feet and made for the patch of undergrowth. -Andrei perceived the danger in which the bold huntsman stood, and while -Mirea called out indignantly, “Let him end the chase he has begun!” -his brother exclaimed, “Canst thou not hear?--it is a boy’s voice!” -and casting himself before the bear, which towered high above him, he -plunged his knife up to the hilt in its shoulder. The brute clawed -the air for a moment and then fell dead. “Oh, what a pity!” cried a -clear voice, and from the bushes there stepped forth a wondrously fair -maiden, clad in short garments and sandals, and having a white fur cap -set upon her wild and abundant brown locks. Her eyes shone beneath -dark, highly arched brows; they were green eyes, yet with a glint of -gold in them. From her shoulders hung a mantle of snow-white, silky -goatskin; like Andrei, she held in her hand a broad hunting-knife, -with which she had unflinchingly awaited the onslaught of the bear. -“What a pity,” she cried again, “now it is not I that have slain -him!” and her eyes filled with tears. Andrei stood quite shame-faced, -gazing at the bear, as though he would gladly, to please the lovely -maiden, have restored him to life again. To conceal her ill-humour, -she thoughtlessly thrust at the brute with her foot--when, behold! he -turned in the death-throe and clawed at her once again. But on the -instant she was caught back by Mirea, who set her on her feet with the -reproving words, “Foolish child!” She gazed upwards in astonishment, -for the voice was that of the young man before her--and the face, too, -was bewildering in its likeness to his. Open-mouthed, like a child -indeed, she looked from one to the other till all three broke out into -a storm of laughter. - -“You are double!” cried the girl, “like two hazel-nuts in one shell.” - -“And two nuts out of one shell we are,” replied Andrei. “But who art -thou, little wood-fairy? Perchance some witch in disguise, who will -work our undoing.” - -“Who can say?” answered the maiden. “Perhaps I am a witch--grandfather -often says so; and, indeed, I have only been with him a week yet, and -he has had no more of his old pain since I came.” - -“We would straightway treat thee as an evil witch, then,” said Mirea, -“and carry thee a prisoner to our castle, for having hunted upon our -hills without leave.” - -“We have a cruel mother, too, at our castle,” added Andrei. - -“Good,” cried the maiden. “Her I must see. I am your prisoner!” - -She called her attendant huntsman, gave him messages to her grandfather, -and bade him bring horses to fetch her home; then she followed the -brothers with a light step by the giddiest and steepest paths to the -castle. - -The lads’ mother, Dame Roxana, stood looking from the castle windows, -and wondering what strange shepherd-boy her sons were bringing home -with them. The dead bear was carried behind them, slung upon green -boughs. As they drew near the castle Dame Roxana exclaimed in alarm, -“It is a girl they have with them. Where can they have found her?” - -The next moment the sound of youthful voices and footsteps re-echoed -through courtyard and hall. “Mother,” cried Mirea, “here we bring -thee a prisoner, a hunter who has spoilt our chase! What shall be his -punishment?” - -Dame Roxana gazed at the young girl in great anxiety. She would fain -have sent her away again as quickly as possible; but the vision was -so entrancing a one that she could not restrain a kindly smile, and -stretched out her hand, which the maiden respectfully kissed. “I -think,” said Dame Roxana, “that the worst punishment would be to make -this merry child spend a few hours in spinning with an old woman like -me!” - -“Nay, nay,” the girl replied; “I can spin as lightly as any fairy. The -spear has not made my hand heavy. And as for old folks--why, I spend -all my time alone with grandfather, who sits in his chair all day, and -falls asleep whenever I would tell him aught.” - -She was about to lay aside her mantle as she spoke, but Andrei stepped -forward and took it from her, while his mother herself lifted the fur -cap from her brow and stroked back the damp curly hair. With abundant -locks falling about her like a lion’s mane, she seemed fairer than -ever, and mother and sons gazed at her in delight. - -“What is thy name, dear child?” asked Dame Roxana. - -“Urlanda. Is it not an ugly name? They would have called me Rolanda, -but it turned into Urlanda, because I was always so wild and untutored. -My grandfather dwells on the other side of the mountain. Oh! I have -come far to-day.” - -“Then thou wilt be all the gladder of the meal that awaits us.” - -They led her into the dining-hall, sumptuously decked with Eastern -carpets and hangings and massive silver-ware. Here the talk flowed -merrily on. Wondrous tales were told of the chase and of adventures -with savage bears; but Rolanda would never suffer herself to be -outdone, and would cap each tale with one more amazing yet, told in -tones as earnest as though she were swearing an oath upon it. - -The merriment was heightened by her constant mistaking of one brother -for the other, and when Andrei gave himself out as having saved her -life, Mirea would eagerly affirm that it was he who had warded off the -bear’s last embrace. - -“It’s a good thing,” she would cry, “that I have to thank you both -for my life, for else, indeed, I should never be able to recognise my -preserver.” - -When the meal was over she begged for distaff and spindle, “for she -wanted to show that her spinning was no hunter’s tale.” This was spoken -with a sly glance at the brothers. And, in truth, the threads she spun -were as fine and even as a spider’s web, to the great amazement of Dame -Roxana. - -“I can embroider beautifully too,” said the maiden. “My mother, who -could do wonders at it, taught me that, for she hoped to tame me with -such fair work. But it was all in vain, for I had always finished -before she expected it, and was out and away again to the stables -or the chase.” She sighed a little. “But now the stud is sold; and, -indeed, who could ride among these wretched mountains, where there is -no room? Ah, there are the horses!” and she sprang from her seat. “I -must go, or I shall not be home by nightfall; and surely grandfather -must know how to chide if he be minded to, for he has such bushy -eyebrows!” In a moment she had kissed the hand of Dame Roxana, greeted -the brothers with a wave of her furry cap as she cast it upon her -curly locks, and was away out of the hall and into her saddle like a -whirlwind. But the brothers, too, had their horses ready, and were not -to be hindered from bearing their young guest company to the outskirts -of their lands. So, greeting Dame Roxana with laughing glances, they -rode away, and she looked after them with grave eyes, though a smile -was on her lips. Her heart was heavy, she knew not why, and she would -fain have called her sons back to her. - -It was with difficulty that Rolanda could be restrained from galloping -up hill and down dale; only when her pity for the horses was stirred -did she draw rein, saying with a sigh, “You call these walking chairs -horses!” - -As night was now falling, she begged the brothers to seek shelter -beneath her grandfather’s roof. The old man was sitting by the hearth -when they entered, stroking the white beard that fell down far over his -breast. - -“And where has this wild creature been now?” he kindly asked. - -“In a dreadful prison, because of having trespassed on another’s -hunting-ground! And here are my persecutors, whom I have brought with -me to prove whether I speak truly.” - -The old man’s gaze was full of kindliness as it rested upon the two -youths, standing ready to do him homage. The evening meal was soon -ready; nor was it less cheerful than that which they had shared at -midday at Dame Roxana’s table. At early dawn Andrei and Mirea rode -hence again. They were startled, as they passed under the castle -windows, at finding themselves pelted by a shower of blossoms. But as -they glanced upwards a window was hastily closed, and they saw no one. - -This was the first of many mutual visits, of many riding and hunting -parties, and pleasant hours passed in merry chatter within doors. But -Rolanda had her sadder moments also, when she was more entrancing than -ever; then she would speak of her dead parents, and of how lonely she -was in the wide world; for her grandfather could not live much longer, -and then she would not know whither to turn. - -“Oh, cruel words!” Andrei would exclaim. “Are we, then, not thy -brothers? and is there no home for thee here?” - -“Does our mother not love thee?” Mirea would add. - -Then would Dame Roxana’s heart quiver with pain once more; and yet the -untutored child had become very dear to her. - -Not long after this a clatter of hurrying horse’s hoofs sounded up the -hillside, and then upon the stones of the courtyard; it was Rolanda, -riding bare-headed and with fluttering locks. As pale as death she -burst in upon Dame Roxana. “For God’s sake, let me take shelter with -you! Grandfather is dead! I closed his eyes myself; I made him ready -for the grave, and laid him there to rest, and felt no fear the while. -But now all the kinsfolk have come flocking in, quarrelling over the -inheritance, and giving me hard and cruel words because some of it is -to be mine. And one bald-headed fellow would straightway have taken -me to wife. Ah me! then I was affrighted. Such a wretch! But I told -him I was called Urlanda, and was so bad that none would care to marry -me. Nor will I have any husband. I will stay here with you until I am -turned out.” - -It was a hard matter for Dame Roxana to understand this flow of -incoherent words, and harder still for her to soothe the agitated -girl. She folded her to her heart and stroked the disordered curls; -then she led her to the little white bed-chamber, where she had often -dwelt before, and told her this should be her home as long as there was -a roof over the house. - -Rolanda threw herself into her arms, kissed her hands, and promised to -become as gentle and calm as a deep, calm lake. - -Dame Roxana smiled. “Methinks,” she replied, “that the calm and -gentleness will come all in good time, when once thou art a wife.” - -“But I would never become a wife. I would always remain a maiden and -free--free as a bird.” - -Dame Roxana sighed quite low, and listened for the voices of her sons, -who had just come home and were asking for Rolanda, whose tumultuous -arrival they had witnessed from afar. - -A wondrous change took place in the behaviour of the brothers after -Rolanda came to sojourn with them. - -They had greeted her as their “little sister,” but thereupon the young -girl had suddenly grown shy and constrained. They lived out of doors -more than ever now, only they no longer went together, but by separate -ways; and Rolanda stayed much at home with the mother, and grew dreamy -and absent, often shedding tears in secret. When she thought herself -unnoticed, her quick glance would travel backwards and forwards between -the brothers, as though she would fain discover something that yet -remained dark to her. She often still confused the two together, yet -now she no longer laughed at this, but gazed anxiously over at the -mother. Dame Roxana watched with a heavy heart the dark cloud that -seemed gathering over her house, and wept far oftener and more secretly -than Rolanda, since the day that each of her sons had confessed to her, -alone at the twilight hour, his great, undying, unconquerable love, and -had asked-- - -“Dost think my brother loves her too, he is so changed? And to which of -us will she give her heart?” - -Dame Roxana offered many a taper in the little mountain chapel at -Lespes, and hoped that this painfully made pilgrimage might incline -Heaven’s mercy towards them, and ward off a great disaster from her -home. - -Rolanda had been in a state of indescribable agitation ever since the -time that Andrei and Mirea had, each unknown to the other, confessed -their love to her. In vain the poor child questioned her heart; she -loved them both too well--far too well--to make either wretched; nor -could she separate the one from the other in her heart, any more than -she could with her eyes. She kept silence towards Dame Roxana, for -she could not bear to give her pain; but day by day she saw how the -brothers no longer cherished each other, and even how sharp words -sometimes passed between them, and that had never chanced in all their -lives before. - -At last Dame Roxana called the three to her side and spoke. - -“I have watched the bitter struggle of your hearts too long. One of you -must needs make a hard sacrifice, that the other may be happy.” - -“Yes,” answered Mirea gloomily, “one of us must quit this world.” - -“For God’s sake!” cried Rolanda, “you would not fight over me?” - -“Nay,” said Andrei, with a sad smile, “that were impossible. But one -can go hence alone.” - -Then said Dame Roxana with uplifted hands, “O godless children! have I, -then, borne you and brought you up so feeble that neither of you has -the strength to bear his first sorrow? Rolanda, till to-morrow shalt -thou have time for thought; by to-morrow we shall all have won strength -and courage.” - -So they parted. - -Andrei took a path that led through the forest to Lespes, and there -he knelt in the little rock-hewn chapel and prayed: “O my God! Thou -knowest my heart and my strength. Grant that I may be preserved from -any sin towards myself, my mother, my brother, or the woman that I -love. But if she give herself not to me, then turn me to stone, that -I may feel pain no more.” But, by another path, Mirea had come, too, -to the little chapel, and had prayed the same prayer. They cast a -sorrowful look at one another, and went home, each by himself; for each -thought that he alone had offered up the sacrifice. - -Dame Roxana appeared next morning as white as the veil which covered -the first silver threads in her hair. The two brothers wore the look -of men going to their death. Rolanda alone came among them with the -glow of joy on her face. She was as though transfigured by an unearthly -beauty, that seemed to increase her very height. With gentle dignity -she spoke: “Come out yonder with me, my only dear ones; let the -decision be given under God’s open sky.” - -[Illustration: And ere one of them could stretch out a hand she had -flown like a bird over the edge of the cliff.] - -She glided out before them, hardly seeming to tread on earth; her -hands were transparent as wax, and her eyes full of tears as she raised -them to heaven. On the edge of a steep and giddy precipice she paused, -and knelt before Dame Roxana. - -“Give me thy blessing, mother,” she said. - -Dame Roxana laid a trembling hand upon the fair, curly head. - -“And now,” continued Rolanda in a clear voice, “now hearken to me. I -love you both so well, so passing well--far more than myself or my -own life--that I cannot give myself to either of you. But whichever -brings me back from the abyss, his wife will I be.” And ere one of them -could stretch out a hand she had flown like a bird over the edge of -the cliff, into the immeasurable depths below. But--oh wonder!--as she -fell, she was changed into a foaming waterfall, whose spray floated in -the air like a bridal veil. The two brothers would have cast themselves -down after her, but they could not, for their feet turned to rock, -their arms to rock, their hearts to stone, and so they towered aloft -toward heaven. But the unhappy mother spread out her arms, crying, -“And I alone must live! Hast Thou no pity, Heaven?” Then with arms -outstretched she fell to earth, embracing her children. And, behold! -where she lay she was changed into thick, soft moss, that grew and -spread farther and farther, till the rocks were half shrouded in it. So -they remain, and will remain for ever--the wild white bride, Urlatoare, -the self-sacrificing sons, the Jipi, and their loving, tender mother. - - - - -II - -THE SERPENT-ISLE - -[Illustration] - - -The great Latin poet Ovid was banished by the Emperor of Rome, no one -knew why, to a desolate spot near the mouth of the Danube, on the -shores of the Black Sea. That land has had many masters, and last -of all the Roumanians, under King Charles, took it from the Turks. -Where Ovid once wandered by that lonely shore there is now a grand -hotel, where fashionable ladies and officers sit and listen to the -music of the band; a large town, too, lies hard by, but in the poet’s -days only a small collection of miserable huts stood there, which -men called the city of Tomi. On one side there was nothing to be -seen, as far as the eye could reach, but sand and marshes, where at -intervals a solitary tree stretched out its barren boughs over some -evil-smelling mere; while on the other the endless sea, black and -cheerless, rolled its monotonous waves towards the shore. Snowstorms, -unknown to an inhabitant of Rome, swept over the land in winter; and -in summer the sun beat down with scorching heat, setting the brain on -fire and parching the tongue. Wells were scarce here, and Ovid learnt -to prize a draught of pure water more than he had ever prized the -choicest wines in his Roman cellars. The inhabitants of the country -were few--dark-skinned men, whose language was strange to him. The only -Romans were men whom he would in former days have thought unworthy of -his slightest glance or word--thieves, galley-slaves, or fraudulent -officials. Surely he could never have borne such a life, and must have -died of misery, save for one only consolation. Every man must have -some such, be it only a dog, a flower, or a spider. Ovid had a snake, -a tiny, bewitching snake, that always lay curled about his neck or his -arm, and in whose eyes he read the most wondrous tales. To his mind -she was very likely the victim of some spell--a banished princess in -a serpent’s shape--for did he not write the “Metamorphoses”?--and he -wove fancies about her by the hour together--of how fair she was in -reality, and how unfortunate, his shining little Colubra, as he called -her. And as his thoughts wandered thus, and he sat gazing out upon -the sea, his eyes would close and he would sink into peaceful sleep. -One day, as he thus slept, he dreamed a strange dream; his little snake -had suddenly become possessed of human speech, and was whispering -softly in his ear, “Come, come with me to the island at the mouth of -the Danube--that which they call the Serpent-Isle. There thou shalt -witness transformations indeed.” He awoke with a start of surprise; -but his little snake was lying quite quietly about his neck, as though -she had never spoken a word. Again he fell asleep, and again Colubra -whispered, “Come to the Serpent-Isle. Come; trust thy little friend.” -The poet awoke once more and gazed at the little creature, that still -clung motionless to his throat, and met his eyes with a strange look -of comprehension. He slept for the third time, and for the third time -Colubra whispered, “Come with me; thou wilt not repent it.” But this -time he awoke before she had finished speaking, and she gave him so -expressive a glance that Ovid thought to himself, “Why should I not -go to the Serpent-Isle? It cannot be a more desolate spot than this -is; and if the serpents devour me, then there is an end of my pain for -ever.” - -[Illustration: So he manned a sail-boat with stout rowers, took -provisions with him for several days, and set out across the sea.] - -So he manned a sail-boat with stout rowers, took provisions with him -for several days, and set out across the sea. He reached the island, -not without trouble, for the Black Sea has its evil moods, far worse -than those of the ocean itself. The heart-sick poet was in danger of -being punished for his desire to be quit of life, for it came near -taking him at his word. But the boatmen were less weary of life than -he, and fought bravely with the stormy elements, grumbling all the -while at the enterprise. - -“So much pain and danger for the sake of a desert island full of -poisonous reptiles,” they would mutter, casting dark glances upon the -poet. Several times was he minded to put back, for fear of a mutiny -among the crew, but each time a slight movement from the little -creature about his throat admonished him to pause. Once or twice he was -even aware of an impatient stroke from the slender tail, and the tiny -head would be raised aloft, ever gazing in the same direction. “There -is the island,” muttered the sailors at last. “Where?” asked Ovid, for -he could see nothing. “That strip of land there, at the river’s mouth, -that is the Isle of Serpents.” As he saw the bank of sand covered with -stunted bushes, the poet’s heart sank, more on account of the men’s -discontent than because of the uninviting aspect of the place. To -his mind the whole country was equally desolate, and whether it were -somewhat more or less so was of little moment. But the little snake -about his throat began fairly to dance for joy, and the lonely man felt -glad of the pleasure he could give to the only creature he loved. As he -stepped on shore he felt for her about his neck. What was his amazement -at finding nothing there! His little Colubra was gone! Sore at heart, -he thought to himself, “So that was why thou wert so fain to reach the -island--only to forsake me! Thou art not a human being, yet thy deeds -are even as theirs.” And, lost in bitter thought, he waded onward -through the deep sand, having promised the sailors to go and seek water -for them. But the wine to be found on board was far more acceptable -to the men, and soon they lay wrapped in a drunken sleep. Ovid went -sorrowfully on his way. “Now have I lost my all,” he sighed; and since -no one saw him, he was not ashamed of the tears that filled his eyes. - -Was it the gleam of those tears or the light of the sun that blinded -him? Was a midsummer madness upon him? He passed his hand over his -brow again and again and closed his eyes; but each time he reopened -them his bewilderment increased. For there rose before him a magic -garden, with shady trees, undulating lawns, and plashing fountains. A -carpet of forget-me-nots and poppies spread out on every side, and the -tender petals of the flowers seemed transfused with sunlight. Marble -steps led down to the sea, and smooth paths wound in and out among -hedges of rose and myrtle. Wondrous birds perched among the planes and -chestnut-trees, and poured out a song that no nightingale could rival. -Beneath the poet’s feet, violets and mignonette gave forth well-nigh -too unrestrained a perfume; and sprays of lilac and jessamine caressed -his brow. The lonely exile fancied himself transported to one of the -fairest gardens of Rome, and his heart beat high with joy, till it -seemed ready to burst in his bosom. But what was his delight when he -suddenly became aware of a crowd of beautiful maidens, gliding about -among the trees and over the smooth turf chasing and embracing one -another in the wildest glee, swinging upon the thick, tangled boughs -of the hedge-roses, and tripping down the marble stairs to the sea, -to bathe, and splash each other with the clear water. He saw, too, -Roman matrons clad in long robes and snowy veils, whose faces seemed -familiar, and men wearing the toga and mantle, who paced to and fro, -as though in eager discussion over the topics of the day, just as of -old in the Roman Forum. But before he could draw near them, a lovely -maiden hastened up to him with a gesture of familiar greeting and took -his hand, saying, “I warrant thou dost not know me in this shape; yet -I am thy little Colubra! Come with me and I will show thee all.” And -she drew him away, through the undulating crowd of people, who were -all speaking Latin and Greek, so that he could understand their every -word. He seemed to recognise them too, and would fain have accosted -many a one by name, for they appeared to him to be courtiers of the -Emperor, whom he had been wont to see every day. But his little guide -clung to his hand with slender, caressing fingers and led him on. He -heard around him the names of Greek sculptors or philosophers and Roman -statesmen; and though these names might once have been indifferent -to him, they now made his heart leap and brought the moisture to his -eyes, only because it was so sweet to hear the familiar sounds once -more. Several persons approached him with an expression of delighted -surprise, but Colubra motioned them all aside with an impatient stamp -of her little foot, and if they did not heed, her delicate eyebrows -would contract and her dark eyes flash--those eyes which were the only -reminder of her serpent nature. Once, however, it is true that she -thrust the tip of her rosy tongue between her lips--a little tongue as -sharp as though it could prick. - -There were very few children to be seen in the magic garden, and those -few, the poet noticed, crept sadly about, holding one another by the -hand, and gazing with wide-open eyes at this gay, merry world, which -seemed quite strange to them. No one spoke to them or took any notice -of them, for here each seemed to think of nothing but his own pleasure. -Ovid would have given them a kind word, but Colubra drew him past them -also, and led him to an arbour hidden among the thick bushes, hard by -a bubbling spring. There she fed him with the most luscious fruits, and -making a cup out of a broad leaf, she fetched a draught of water for -him. Then, swinging herself up on one bough and clasping her white arms -round another, she began in triumphant tones: “Now, what dost think of -thy little friend?” - -“I think thou art lulling me with a faëry dream.” - -“Nay, nay, thou art not dreaming! Thou art on the Serpent-Isle, whither -all men are banished who have lied during their lifetime. Once in every -thousand years the island grows green, and we can take our own shapes -again, and wander in this magic garden. But no living man may look upon -us save a poet, and he must be a sorrow-stricken creature; nor must he -speak with any one, for should he utter the smallest lie he would be -changed into a serpent for a thousand years. And it will no longer be -fair here to-morrow.” - -“But I can surely speak without lying?” - -“Yea, with thy little Colubra, or on the mainland yonder, in Tomi, -where thou dost need to ask for naught but bread, water, and wood, and -where it avails thee nothing to be gracious or witty, since none would -understand thee; but amid this company thou wouldst be tempted to speak -as they do, and then I would not stand warranty for thee!” - -“But I see statesmen here, high officials, artists and philosophers, -matrons who are held in esteem, and even little children.” - -With a pitying smile she replied, “All these spoke untruths while they -lived; and because even in the under-world they and their false tongues -are dreaded, they have been sent here on to this island, where they -can do no harm, or at least only hiss, and strangle one another. It -is saddest of all for the children, because they are such strangers -here, and belong to no one, neither are they remembered by any earthly -friends. Even this festive day is sad for them, since it makes them -feel lonelier than ever. This evening the old boatman, Charon, will -sail to the shore of the island, and those who have spoken nothing but -the truth during the last thousand years he will suffer to enter his -boat, and to journey with him to the under-world. But thou must not -await that moment, for then everything will be changed. I, truly, am -privileged, for I may stay with thee, and thou art safe on the island, -because thou art doing penance enough in thy lifetime.” - -“But thou--what hast thou done?” asked the poet. - -“I?” The maiden blushed, and springing from the bough, answered -carelessly, “I suppose I lied like the rest.” And she drew him hastily -away to join a group of dancing maidens. Yet, with a look round at him, -she laid her finger on her lip. - -It was high time, for an ancient dame approached Ovid with a friendly -grimace and began--“Why, see! our great poet! Is he too, like us, -banished from the earth and the under-world alike? Poor Ovid, art thou -thyself metamorphosed? What a trick they have played us clever people, -have they not? Were we to blame for being wiser than the rest? And thy -sweet companion! I have known and loved her this long, long while.” - -“Thou liest!” cried Colubra, beside herself. - -In the twinkling of an eye the old dame was changed into a huge snake, -which darted hissing upon the young girl, coiled round her, and would -surely have throttled her, had not Ovid used all his strength to -wrestle with the noxious creature, and tearing it off, cast it far away -from them. The maiden kissed his hands in a passion of gratitude, -and the dancers crowned him with roses and myrtle. Presently a little -boy ran up to him and cried in pleading tones-- - -“Take me away with thee; oh! take me away, and I will be as truthful -as the sunbeams and as transparent as the clearest brook. Only take me -with thee. I have seen that thou art a hero, and I--I was once a hero -too; I was so strong that all my playmates feared to feel my fists!” -While he yet spoke a little sharp, forked tongue shot out between his -rosy lips, and before the poet’s very eyes he was changed into a tiny -slow-worm, that wound itself about his feet. - -[Illustration: Presently a little boy ran up to him and cried in -pleading tones, “Take me away with thee.”] - -“And canst thou not speak truth for one hour, thou miserable little -worm?” cried Colubra angrily. Yet Ovid looked compassionately upon the -tiny snake, and did not move for a long time, for fear of hurting it. - -But his friend was in haste to draw him from the spot: “Dost thou not -see the sun is setting? Methinks I already hear the keel of Charon’s -boat rushing through the smooth water. Thou must away from here. The -reality here is ugly, terribly ugly. Thou shalt only keep the memory of -the beautiful dream.” - -Still Ovid lingered. He plucked blossoms and threw them to the laughing -girls; he stood gazing out over the sea, that was now bathed in a flood -of purple and golden light. But presently, like the very night itself, -a ship with dusky sails moved silently towards the shore, spreading -darkness around it as it came. The ship was large, but only one boatman -stood therein, an old man with snowy beard and sunken eyes. His bony -hands held a huge pole, with which he steered the ship, till he brought -its keel grating upon the shore. Now he raised his pole aloft, so that -the trickling water-drops shone like pure gold in the last rays of -sunshine. - -“Come,” whispered Colubra, growing pale. But Ovid stood as though -spell-bound. Charon raised his pole again and smote it against the -trees with a sound like thunder. Then, behold, all the forms that moved -upon the island pressed toward the ship and held out imploring hands. -But Charon asked in deep, dread tones: “Who hath spoken the truth these -thousand years?” - -“I!--I!” came the answer from every side: but all who spoke the word -were instantly changed into serpents. - -“I,” cried a wondrously beautiful woman, forcing her way through the -mass of writhing reptiles, her white veil shining as it floated in -the twilight air--“I have kept silence for a thousand years, that I -might rejoin my seven children in the Elysian fields. I will go to my -children!” And with this cry she sped over the sand into the ship. - -“I,” said Colubra quite low. - -“Thou?” asked Ovid sadly. “Then must I lose thee?” - -Colubra looked at the poet and then at the ship. - -“If I could but remain a maiden, I would love thee only, and belong to -no other.” - -“O Colubra, thou liest! Keep silence!” - -But he had scarcely spoken the words ere she was changed into the same -little snake as of old. - -Now the keel grated on the sand once again and Charon pushed off from -the shore. And lo! the trees came crashing down, the flowers turned to -dust, and the grass withered; while far, far away Charon’s white beard -and the woman’s waving white veil shone out in the moonlight. But upon -the sandy shore and among the stunted, thorny bushes only the smooth, -gleaming serpent-forms crawled and writhed. Then horror fell upon Ovid, -and he hastened towards his own boat. With the cry of “Serpents!” -he awakened the sleeping men, who rubbed their eyes, muttering -discontentedly, “For this we came hither, then--to see serpents!” -“Away now, away!” cried Ovid, who, for the horror that was upon him, -had well-nigh forgotten his little friend. But as they were pushing -off he remembered her, and called aloud: “Colubra! my faithful little -Colubra!” Then a faint, very faint sound of laughter smote his ear, -and something wound itself caressingly about his neck, and two eyes -gazed steadily up into his in the clear moonlight. The sailors thought -their master had taken leave of his wits, for he spoke no more, save -to murmur from time to time, “A thousand years!--and for me!” while he -stroked something which shone round his throat, and which they took to -be a jewel. - -But, laughing softly once more, Colubra hissed into his ear, “Be not -over vain, my soft-hearted poet. Not for thee alone did I give way to -lying. For I found my lost lover again, yonder among the serpents, and -a serpent he must remain. Yea--and I will remain even as my beloved is, -until we can belong to one another.” - -Since that day the Serpent-Isle has been green and lovely once again, -and only once, but no one was there to see it. Ah, if one could but be -a poet, and alive in the year 2000! - - - - -III - -VÎRFUL CU DOR - -[Illustration] - - -There was once on a time a _hora_[2] at Sinaia, the like of which had -never been seen before; for it was upon a great holiday, and the monks -in the neighbouring cloister had distributed food to every one, heaping -bowls of it, so that all the villagers had eaten their fill. The folk -had gathered from far and near, from Isvor and Poeana Zapului, from -Comarnic and Predeal, and from the other side of the mountains. The sun -shone down so warm into the valley that the maidens took the kerchiefs -from their heads, and the lads pushed their flower-bedecked hats from -their brows, so hot had the dancing made them. The mothers stood round -about upon the green, suckling their children; their shimmering veils -showed afar off, as white and soft as spring blossoms. - -What a stamping and shouting there were amid the merry dancers! The -maidens seemed to hover in the air, as though their dainty feet, -peeping out from the narrow petticoat, never touched the ground. Their -shifts were gaily and richly embroidered, and glittered with gold, like -the coins that hung on their necklets. The dance moved on, in circles -both great and small; ceaselessly it moved, to the ceaseless music of -the lute-players, like the pulsation of a vein, or an undulating wave. -A little to one side, a handsome shepherd stood leaning upon his staff -and watched the _hora_ with his dark eyes, dark as blackberries. His -form was slender, like a young pine-tree; his hair fell in black locks -upon his shoulders from under his cap of white lambskin. His shirt -was grey, fastened about the hips with a broad leather girdle, and he -wore sandals upon his feet. Only for a moment had his eyes glanced -uncertainly around; now they had discovered what they sought, and their -sparkling gaze was fixed upon a maiden, who did not seem to notice him -at all. The maiden was fair--fair as the most beautiful flower; nay, -lovelier far than the gentian or the Alpine rose, more delicate than -the edelweiss. In each of her eyes shone two points of light, one in -the black pupil and the other in the brown circle surrounding it. Her -teeth flashed white every time the coral lips parted; her hair was as -black as the abyss from whose depths a gleam of water shoots up, and -the wreath of flowers upon her head did not fade; it was as though -she gave it freshness and life. Such a slender body she had, one might -have thought a man could break it with a turn of his hand; and yet -the people told tales of her wondrous strength. Yes, Irina was fair, -very fair, and Jonel, the young shepherd, gazed upon her ceaselessly. -At last he too drew near the circle and grasped her hand. The maidens -looked at one another and laughed, and Irina grew crimson. Now of a -sudden the lute-players stopped upon a shrill, high note, the lads each -turned their partners round under their arms and once about, and then -Jonel drew Irina’s hand downwards with a firm grasp. There was deep -significance in this, but Irina only shrugged her shoulders and laughed. - -[Illustration: A little to one side, a handsome shepherd stood leaning -upon his staff.] - -“Irina,” he whispered, “dost thou see the golden leaves on yonder -beech? It is time--I must go down with my sheep into the valley, down -into the Baragan, perhaps as far as the Dobrudgea, and I shall see thee -no more till spring-time. Give me a good word, that my heart may have -no cause to tremble when I think of thee looking upon the other lads!” - -“What wouldst have me say? Thou dost not love me truly, and I shall -soon be forgotten.” - -“I will die ere I forget thee, Irina.” - -“These be but words--these I do not believe.” - -“What must I do, then, that thou mayst believe me?” - -Irina’s eyes sparkled as she gave him a sidelong glance and answered, -“That which thou canst never do.” - -“I can do anything,” said Jonel slowly, as though he scarcely knew that -he spoke. - -“Nay, thou canst not bide without thy sheep; thou wouldst sooner do -without me than them.” - -“Without my sheep,” repeated Jonel, and sighed. - -“Dost see,” laughed Irina, “the only thing which I require of thee, -that thou shouldst stay on yonder mountain-top without thy sheep, that -thou canst not do! Words, nought but words!” - -“And what if I do it?” said Jonel. He grew pale and clenched his teeth -as he spoke. - -The youths and maidens had gathered about the pair and were listening. -“Do it not!” “Do it!” cried one and another. - -Then an old shepherd with silver locks and overhanging brows laid his -hand on Jonel’s shoulder. - -“Let the maidens be,” he said roughly; “they will but break thy heart -and then laugh thee to scorn. Dost thou not know that the shepherd who -forsakes his sheep must die?” He shook his clenched fist at Irina: “And -thou dost think, because thou art fair, that thou canst dare all, and -that nothing shall quell thy mischievous spirit? But the evil thou dost -work, to thine own self dost thou work it!” - -Irina did but laugh again. “He need not go,” said she, “nor do I need -him either.” And turning, she ran off to drink from the spring that -rises beside the cloister. - -Jonel would listen to no one, but with pale cheeks and set mouth took -his way toward the mountain. He passed Irina by, and only made a -gesture of farewell to her with his hand. - -“Do it not!” she called after him, and laughed with the other maidens. -And the Pelesch stream, as it rushed by, re-echoed the words, “Do it -not! do it not!” But Jonel did not hear it, and went on climbing higher -and higher in the noontide sun, over the smooth uplands, beneath the -giant pines--whose trunks six men can scarcely span--and through the -shady beech-woods, up to the shepherd’s hut round which his flock was -lying, and whence his dogs ran forth to meet him, barking for joy. He -passed his hand caressingly over their rough coats, and then called his -“Mioritza,” or the ewe that led his flock. “Brr, brr, Oitza,”[3] he -called; “brr, come hither.” She came trotting up with her little lamb, -and suffered him to thrust the carnation that he had stolen from Irina -into her fleece. Then he begged the other shepherds to take his flock -with them, saying that he would follow later, but must first accomplish -a vow that he had taken. They all looked at him in wonder. “And if I -return no more,” he ended, “ye shall say that Yearning hath bidden me -to the marriage-feast.” - -He took his Alp-horn in his hand, and climbed on and on to the very -summit of the mountain, whence he could look away across the Danube -to the Balkans. There he stood still, and putting his horn to his -lips, sent forth a wailing note whose echoes spread far around. But at -the call his faithful dog rushed in pursuit, and was soon springing -round him, whining for joy; then, seizing his master’s shirt between -his teeth, he tried to drag him away toward the valley, so that Jonel -scarce knew how to resist, and was obliged at last, with tears in -his eyes, to speak roughly to the poor beast and drive him away with -stones. And now he had turned away his last friend, and was alone in -those desolate mountain wilds. Two eagles circled in the air beneath -him; save for this, all was motionless and silent. - -He stretched himself upon the turf and sighed so deeply that his breast -seemed nigh to bursting. At last he fell asleep, from sheer heart-ache -and longing. When he awoke the clouds were rolling above his head and -gathering nearer and nearer; first they moved rapidly, then a sudden -calm seemed to fall upon them, and finally they closed about him in a -mist so dense that he could not see one step before his face. All at -once they appeared to take distinct form, and to be gliding round him -in the likeness of wondrously beautiful women, clad in shimmering, -snow-white garments, and holding one another by the hand. He rubbed his -eyes, for he thought he still dreamed; but presently he heard that they -were singing, a song so soft and low that it sounded as from afar off; -and now they stretched lily-white arms towards him, while from every -side came the cry, “Thou goodly youth, be mine, be mine! Come with me!” - -[Illustration: From every side came the cry, “Thou goodly youth, be -mine! Come with me!”] - -But he shook his head. - -“Do not despise us,” cried one; “we will give thee such happiness as -shall make thee forget the valley for ever!” She parted the mist with -her hand, and there appeared before him a mountain meadow, carpeted -with flowers as he had never seen one before, and upon the meadow stood -a shepherd’s hut built of rose-leaves, and beside it was a spring, -whose pearly drops gushed out over the fresh green moss. - -“Come, we will dwell there together!” called the fair one in silvery -tones. “Nay, come to me!” cried another, and before his very eyes -she built out of the mist a house that shone like a rainbow when the -sunbeams fell upon it. Inside it was as downy as though floor and walls -alike were of the softest wool; from the roof fell rainbow drops, and -no sooner did they touch the earth than grass and flowers sprang up -there. “We will dwell here,” cried the lovely maiden. “See, I will -adorn thee, even as I am adorned;” and she cast wreaths and chains of -the glittering drops about his head and his neck. But he shook them off -again. “One only may deck me,” he said, with a darkening brow; “only my -bride.” - -“Then I will be thy bride!” exclaimed a third maiden. “See, here is my -dower!” And rolling the mist into balls, she made sheep of it, ever -more and more sheep, till the whole mountain--nay, all the mountains -and the sky itself were full of them. They were dazzling white, with -silver and gold bells about their necks, and everywhere fresh green -sprang up beneath their feet. For a moment the face of the lonely -shepherd cleared, but anon he waved the tempting picture aside. “I have -but one flock,” he said, “my own, and I desire no other.” - -Then the mist grew thicker and darker again; he was soon surrounded by -black clouds once more, and from their midst the lightning flashed and -the thunder rolled dreadful and near. And in the thunder a voice spoke: -“Rash son of Earth, thou that hast dared despise us, to destruction -art thou doomed!” Then a fresh peal of thunder seemed to rend the very -mountain, and as it rolled on toward the valley, snowflakes began -to fall around Jonel, first lightly, then thicker and thicker, till -all the mountain-top was covered, and his cloak, his hair and his -eyebrows were frosted over. And, ’mid the soft patter of the descending -snow, the sweet voices rang out again in rich harmony, the sound of -shepherds’ pipes and Alpine horns mingled with their song, and a palace -built by unseen hands rose before him--a palace of snow so dazzling -in its radiance that now and again he had to shield his eyes from it. -And lo! when he looked up, the moon and the stars had assembled in the -palace, and illuminated it so that the walls shone quite transparent. -The moon sat enthroned on high upon a downy couch and watched the -stars, that were holding one another by the hand and dancing a _hora_. -The blacker the heavens became, the more stars flocked into the palace, -and whenever the moon beckoned, another little star left the sky and -hurried in. There were quite tiny stars, like children, that rolled -about with one another, and laughed and played at the feet of the -moon. Others marched in majestically, wearing a long train--a train -as long as the whole Bucegi, that swept over all the mountain-tops -and was borne by a host of little stars, all in shining dresses and -decked with wreaths and crowns of wondrous brightness. The gates of the -palace opened wider of their own accord as these mighty stars appeared. -And one of these commanded the moon to come down from her seat and do -obeisance. Then that star beckoned to Jonel and said, “Come, child of -man, be thou my consort; with me thou shalt range over the universe, -my little stars shall be thy servants, and thou thyself shalt bathe, a -shining star, in a flood of radiance!” - -Jonel, without knowing it, had drawn close to the gateway, and was -listening to these entrancing tones, while the other stars all sang -together in soft accompaniment. Then the moon raised her head and -looked at him, and she was so like Irina that Jonel clutched at his -heart and cried out, “Nay, were the whole world at my feet, I would but -offer it to Irina!” - -Then there arose a rustling, roaring sound, that ended in a fearful -crash--the stars swept by towards heaven, in an endless, mighty -train--the palace fell, burying Jonel in its ruins--and the moon gazed -down pale and sad upon the desolate snow-drifts. - -But the dwarfs, who had heard the fearful crash overhead, now climbed -painfully forth from the recesses of the mountain to see whether their -roof were in danger. And so they discovered the vast heap of precious -stones of which the palace had been built, and began in great glee to -collect this costly treasure, and to drag it down into the fastnesses -of the mountain, where they heaped it up in their mighty vaults. Thus -they came upon poor Jonel, and since there was still some life left in -him, and he was so fair to look upon--far more so, certainly, than any -of themselves--they dragged him down too, with much trouble, and laid -him upon a couch of their softest moss. They drew water from both hot -and cold springs, washed and bathed him, and then carried him to the -great underground lake that feeds all earthly springs. After they had -plunged him once into those waters he awoke healed of all pain, and -looked about him in astonishment. - -“Where am I?” he exclaimed at last. And well might he be amazed. For -above him vaults of shimmering rock rose to giddy heights and were lost -in darkness; and at his feet a lake stretched forth, so far, so far, -that it seemed as though it must fill up the whole earth within, and -it too was lost in dark distance. All around thousands of gnomes were -standing, running, or climbing; they wore long beards, and carried -lights, some in their girdles, some upon their heads. Countless hosts -of them were busy carrying jewels to the lake, washing them in its -water--whereby their radiance was greatly enhanced--and storing and -arranging them in chambers or upon heaps. Many of the gnomes came in -upon rafts, bringing treasure of hitherto unknown stones with them; -others loaded up rafts for a far voyage and pushed off from shore. - -There was such a stir and din of lights and voices in the great vault -that Jonel was fairly bewildered. Yet all seemed to understand their -business quite clearly, save those who surrounded him, and they did -not appear to know what they should do with him. But a sudden longing -seized him to journey away into the unknown, dark distance, and he -hurried towards a raft that was just about to put off. Then there arose -from the waves a beautiful woman; she was as like to Irina as though -she had been her sister, and she stretched out her arms towards Jonel. -With a great cry of “Irina!” he would have flung himself down to her, -but that twenty strong arms held him back, and twenty others as strong -began to rain blows upon him. He made resistance, for the beautiful -woman still beckoned to him from the water; but his captors would not -let go their hold, and even began to stone him in their anger. - -Then on a sudden there appeared before him a dwarf who wore a crown -upon his head, and who, commanding the others to desist, said, “Thou -art mistaken, Jonel; thy bride is not here; she waits for thee in the -valley. This is my appointed bride, and for her I have tarried many a -long year.” At this an angry look, that yet only enhanced her charm, -crossed the fair woman’s face, and with a threatening gesture she dived -beneath the waves. - -The little king sighed, and Jonel sighed, and all the dwarfs, being -good, faithful subjects, sighed too; yet they still held their stones -in readiness, lest perchance Jonel should be condemned to die. But -the king gazed pityingly at the goodly shepherd-lad, and bade his -people wash him once more in the waters of the healing spring, since -he was bleeding from many wounds. With youth and beauty thus renewed, -he was escorted, by the king’s orders, to the mountain-top where they -had found him, and as the little monarch bade him farewell he added, -“Thou art surely to blame, Jonel; thou hast forgotten thy duty for -the sake of a fair woman. Thy faithfulness to her is beautiful and -great, but thine unfaithfulness to thy duty is greater; and though I -may understand the feeling that overmastered thee, I cannot avert the -punishment that awaits thee.” - -With a heavy heart did Jonel take his stand once more upon the lonely -peak, around which the storm was still raging. - -Its violence increased with every moment, as though it would fain have -cast down the solitary mortal from the height whereon he stood, to dash -him into a thousand pieces. Jonel took firm hold of a projection in the -rock, and glanced wildly about him, expecting to see new enemies, new -dangers and temptations, rise up on every side. He felt as though the -storm were crushing him to the earth, as though it were tearing and -dragging at his heart, as though he were dying of his agony and grief. -He clung yet more closely to the rock, that seemed to reel beneath the -pressure. - -And amid the raging and the din round about him he caught sounds, now -as of many voices, and again as of one voice alone, calling, enticing, -threatening; then there was a blare of trumpets, that seemed to cleave -his very brain; and suddenly his love for Irina changed into bitter, -burning hate, since it was she who with laughing lips had sent him to -his death. Yea, he would wait out his time here, unshaken to the end; -but in spring he would go down and take leave of her with scorn, for -ever! No woman should possess his heart; that should be for his flock -alone, the flock he had shamefully forsaken. - -Then there rang forth from the rock a deep and mighty voice: “Nay, lad! -thou art mine, in my power, irrevocably and for ever!” and in a moment -the rock changed into a giant woman’s form, that embraced Jonel with -stony arms and kissed him with lips of stone. In horror he strove -to free himself from her, and could not. “Who art thou?” he cried. -“Have all the powers of hell conspired together against me? Who art -thou--unless thou be Velva?” - -But the woman had turned to rock again, and through the storm these -words echoed: “I am the Spirit of Yearning, and thou art mine--mine the -last lips thou shalt ever kiss.” - -Then a great silence fell upon the place, and the sun broke forth from -behind the clouds. It shone upon a pale man, who stood leaning upon his -Alpine horn and gazing into the valley, and far away to the Danube. He -neither sighed nor moved, and the beating of his heart did not stir his -arms, which were folded upon his breast. - -Save for the languid motion of his eyelids no one could have told that -he still lived. Anon the surrounding world began to awake to life. Ice -and snow melted and ran down in streams to the valley, while young -green crept forth upon the spots the snow had covered. But Jonel never -moved. The forest shook off its withered leaves and the new buds began -to swell. But Jonel never seemed to heed them. Up the mountain slopes -came the voices of twittering birds, and the sound of the woodland -streams rushing on under the warm rain. But Jonel did not hear. It -seemed as though all things living had drawn near to awaken him, yet in -vain; he only gazed forth toward the Danube, as though he were turned -to stone. Then all at once his face awoke to life, his eyes shone, a -faint colour came upon his cheek, and with open arms and outstretched -neck, he stood listening as the sound of barking dogs and tinkling -bells drew nearer. Now he could plainly see the white fleeces of his -flock, and he put his horn to his lips to sound a welcome. But even as -he did so he clutched at his heart, and wailing forth the words “I -die!” he sank upon the earth. - -In vain did his dogs lick him lovingly on hands and face, in vain did -his _mioritza_ stand bleating beside him and his fellow-shepherds -call him by name; he lay still, with a happy smile upon his wan face, -and gave answer to none. The Alpine horn, whose voice his breath had -so lately stirred, lay broken beside him, and nought around him bore -witness to the battles the young warrior had fought. They buried him -where he lay, and named the mountain _Vîrful cu Dor_--“the Peak of -Yearning.” Often have I been up there and seen his grave, and the sheep -love to browse upon it still. - - - - -IV - -FURNICA - -[Illustration] - - -There was once a beautiful maiden, Viorica by name; she had hair like -gold, and eyes like the blue sky, and cheeks like carnations, and lips -like cherries, and her body was as lithe as the rushes that sway by the -riverside. All men rejoiced when they beheld this fair maiden, yet not -so much on account of her beauty as because of her wondrous diligence. -When she went to the spring with her pitcher on her head she carried -her distaff in her girdle and spun the while. She could weave too, -and embroider like a fairy. Her shifts were the finest in the whole -village, wrought with black and red stitches, and with wide seams of -broidery on the shoulders. She had adorned her petticoat, and even her -Sunday hose, with flowers wrought in the same way. In short, it seemed -as though the little hands could never rest; in field and meadow she -did as much work as in the house; and all the lads turned their eyes -upon the fair Viorica, who should one day be such a notable housewife. -But she never turned her eyes toward them; she would hear no talk of -marriage; there was plenty of time for that, she said, and she had to -care for her old mother. Thereupon the mother would bend her brows, and -say that, for her part, she thought a stalwart son-in-law would be but -a prop the more. But this troubled the little daughter, who would ask -whether she were of no more use at all, that the mother should be so -set upon having a man into the house. - -“The men do but make a deal more work for us,” said she; “for we must -spin and stitch and weave for them as well as ourselves, and then we -never find time to get the field-labor done.” - -Then the mother would sigh, and think of her dead son, for whom she had -made so many fine linen shirts, and washed them so dazzlingly white -that all the village maidens gazed their eyes out, looking after him. -It had never been too much trouble for her--but then, what will not a -mother do, indeed, and never be weary! - -The hour came when Viorica had to own that her mother had been right -to wish for a son-in-law, even as though something had warned her that -she was not much longer for this world. She began to fail, and all her -daughter’s love was powerless to hold her upon earth. The fair maiden -had to close the beloved eyes; and now she was all alone in the little -house. For the first time, her hands lay idle in her lap. For whom, -indeed, should she work now? There was no one left to her. - -One day, as she sat upon her threshold and gazed sadly forth, she saw -something long and black moving across the ground towards her; and, -behold! it was an endless procession of ants. No one could have told -whence the creeping host had travelled, it reached so far into the -distance. But now it halted, forming into a mighty circle round about -Viorica, and one or two of the ants stepped forth and spoke thus: - -“Well do we know thee, Viorica, and oft have we admired thy industry, -which we may liken to our own; and that is a thing we seldom notice -among mortal men. We know, too, that thou art now alone in the world, -and so we pray thee to go hence with us and be our Queen. We will build -thee a palace, finer and larger than the largest house thou hast ever -seen. Only one thing thou must promise--that thou wilt never return to -dwell among men, but stay with us faithfully all thy life long.” - -“I will stay with you gladly,” replied Viorica, “for I have nothing -more to hold me here except my mother’s grave; but that I must still -visit, and bring flowers, wine, and cake to it, and pray there for her -soul.” - -“Thou shalt visit thy mother’s grave; only thou must speak with no man -on the way, else wilt thou be unfaithful to us, and our revenge shall -be terrible.” - -So Viorica went forth with the ants, a far, far way, until they reached -the spot that seemed most fitting for the building of her palace. Then -Viorica saw how far the ants surpassed her in skill. How could she have -raised up such a building in so short a time? There were galleries, -one above another, leading into spacious halls, and farther yet, into -the innermost recesses where the pupæ, or infant ants, dwelt, that -were carried out whenever the sun shone, and brought quickly under -shelter again as often as there was a threatening of rain. The chambers -were daintily decked with the petals of flowers, fastened on to the -walls with pine needles; and Viorica learnt to spin cobwebs, out of -which canopies and coverlets were fashioned. Higher and higher grew -the building, but the apartment that was prepared for Viorica was more -beautiful than any vision of her dreams. Many galleries led to it, -so that she could hold communication with all her subjects with the -greatest rapidity. The floors of these galleries were laid over with -poppy-leaves, so that the feet of the Queen should rest on nothing but -purple. The doors were of rose-leaves, and the hinges were spiders’ -threads, so that they could open and shut noiselessly. The floor of the -room was covered with a thick velvety carpet of edelweiss, into which -Viorica’s rosy feet sank softly down; for she needed to wear no shoes -here, they would have been far too clumsy, and would have trodden the -flower-carpets to pieces. The walls were hung with a tapestry cunningly -woven of carnations, lilies of the valley, and forget-me-nots, and -these flowers were constantly renewed, so that their freshness and -perfume were always entrancing. The ceiling had a tent-like covering of -lily-leaves stretched across it. The bed had taken the diligent little -ants many weeks to prepare; it was all made of pollen, the softest they -could find, and a cobweb of Viorica’s spinning was spread over it. When -she lay there asleep she was so lovely that the stars would have fallen -from heaven, could they have seen her. But the ants had built her room -in the most secret recesses of the palace, and guarded their beloved -Queen jealously and well; even they themselves scarcely dared to look -upon her in her sleep. - -Life in the ant-hill could scarce have been made happier or fairer than -it was. One and all, they took a pride in doing the most they could, -and trying to surpass each other in pleasing their industrious Queen. -They were as quick as lightning in carrying out her every command; -for she never gave too many orders at once, and never unreasonable -ones; but her gentle voice sounded ever as though it were but giving -some friendly advice or opinion, and her eyes expressed her thanks in -a sunny glance. The ants often declared that they had the sunshine -dwelling within their house, and exulted over their good fortune. They -had made a special terrace for Viorica, where she could enjoy air and -sunlight when her room grew too confined; and from thence she could -observe the progress of the building, which was already as high as many -a mountain. One day she sat in her room embroidering a dress, upon -which she had sewn butterflies’ wings with the threads from a silkworm -that the ants had brought in for her. None but her dainty fingers could -have accomplished such a task. All on a sudden there was a tumult -round about her mountain; the sound of voices rang forth, and in a -moment all her little kingdom was thrown into alarm, and her subjects -came breathlessly crowding about their Queen and crying, “They are -overthrowing our house; evil men are trampling it down. Two, nay, three -galleries have fallen in, and the next is threatened. What shall we do?” - -“Is that all?” asked Viorica calmly. “I will bid them stay their -course, and in a few days the galleries will be built up again.” She -hurried through the labyrinth of galleries, and appeared suddenly upon -her terrace. Looking down, she beheld a splendid youth, who had just -dismounted from his horse, and was engaged with some of his followers -in turning up the ant-hill with sword and lance. But when she appeared -they all stopped short, and the noble youth stood shielding his dazzled -eyes with his hand as he gazed upon the radiant figure in its shining -draperies. Viorica’s golden hair fell in waves to her very feet, a -delicate colour flooded her cheeks, and her eyes shone like stars. She -dropped them, indeed, a moment before the young man’s glance; but soon -she raised them again, and from her rosy mouth her voice came ringing -forth-- - -“Who are ye that have laid such rude hands upon my kingdom?” - -“Forgive, fairest lady!” cried the youth, “and as surely as I am -a knight and a king’s son, I will henceforth be thy most zealous -defender! How could I guess that a fairy--nay, a goddess--reigned over -this kingdom?” - -“I thank thee,” answered Viorica. “I need no other service save that -of my faithful subjects; and all I ask is, that no foot of mortal man -shall intrude upon my kingdom.” - -With these words she disappeared as though the mountain had swallowed -her up, and those outside could not see how hosts of ants were kissing -her feet and escorting her back in triumph to her chamber, where she -took up her work once more as calmly as though nothing had happened. -And outside, there, before the mountain, the king’s son stood as though -in a dream, and for hours could not be prevailed upon to remount his -horse. He still kept hoping that the beautiful Queen would appear -again--even though it were with angry word and glance, he would at -least see her once more! But he only saw ants and yet more ants, in an -endless stream, busying themselves with all diligence in repairing the -mischief that his youthful thoughtlessness had occasioned. He could -have crushed them under foot in his anger and impatience, for they -seemed not to understand, or perhaps not even to hear, his questions, -and ran quite boldly in front of him, in their new-found sense of -security. At last he dejectedly mounted his steed, and so, plotting and -planning how he might win the loveliest maid his eyes had ever beheld, -he rode on through the forest till nightfall, to the great discontent -of his followers, who consigned both ant-hill and maiden to the devil, -as they thought of the supper-table and the bumpers of wine that had -long been awaiting them. - -Viorica had gone to rest later than any of her subjects. It was her -wont to visit the nurseries herself, to see to the infants and feel -if their little beds were soft enough; so she glided about, lifting -one flower-curtain after another, with a fire-fly clinging to her -finger-tips, and looked tenderly after the little brood. Now she went -back into her room, and dismissed all the fire-flies, who had been -lighting her about her work for many hours. She only kept one little -glow-worm beside her while she undressed. She was used to fall at once -into the deepest and quietest sleep, but to-night she tossed restlessly -to and fro, twisting her hair about her fingers, sitting up and then -lying down again, and all the time feeling so hot--oh, so hot! Never -before had she been sensible of a lack of air in her kingdom, but now -she would gladly have hurried forth, only that she feared to be heard -and to corrupt others by her bad example. Had she not already, though -under much pressure from the others, been obliged to pass many a harsh -sentence, to banish some ants from her jurisdiction, because they had -indulged in forbidden wanderings--nay, even to condemn some to capital -punishment, and, with a bleeding heart, to see them ruthlessly stung to -death? - -The next morning she was up earlier than any of the rest, and gave them -a surprise by showing them one of the galleries that she had built up -all alone. - -Doubtless she herself did not know that whilst doing so she had cast -several glances towards the forest, and had even stood listening for a -few moments. - -She was scarcely back in her chamber again before some of the ants -hurried to her in terror, crying, “The bad man who came yesterday has -returned, and is riding round our hill!” - -“Let him be,” replied Viorica, the Queen, quite calmly; “he will do us -no more harm.” But the heart of Viorica, the lovely maiden, beat so -fast that she could scarce draw breath. - -A wondrous unrest had come over her; she roamed about far more than was -her wont; she was always thinking that the baby-ants were not enough -in the sunshine, and carrying them out herself, only to bring them in -again as quickly; and she often gave contradictory orders. The ants -could not tell what had befallen her, and took twice the pains to do -all their tasks quickly and well. They surprised her with a splendid -new vaulted hall, too; but she gazed at it with an abstracted air and -praised it but scantily. The sound of horses’ hoofs was now constantly -heard, both late and early, round about the mountain; but for many -days Viorica never showed herself. A desperate yearning for the -companionship of human beings, which she had never yet felt, now seized -upon her. She thought of her native village, of the Hora, of her little -house, of her mother, and of her mother’s grave, which she had never -again visited. - -After a few days she announced to her subjects that she thought of -making a pilgrimage to her mother’s grave, and at this the ants -inquired, in alarm, whether she were no longer happy with them, since -she had begun to think of her home again. - -“Nay,” replied Viorica, “I would go for a few hours only, and be back -among you before nightfall.” - -She refused all escort, but one or two of the ants followed her, -unobserved, afar off. Everything looked greatly changed to her, and she -thought she must have been away a long time. She began to reckon how -long it could have taken the ants to build the great mountain wherein -they dwelt, and said to herself that it must have been years. Her -mother’s grave was no longer to be found, the spot was so overgrown -with grass and weeds, and Viorica wandered about the churchyard -weeping, since here too she was nought but a stranger. Evening drew -on, and still Viorica was seeking for the grave she could not find. -Then close beside her she heard the voice of the King’s son. She would -have fled, but he held her fast and spoke to her of his mighty love, -with such gentle and moving words that she stood still with bowed head, -listening to him. It was so sweet to hear a human voice once more, -and to hear it speak of love and friendship. Not until the night had -grown quite dark did she remember that she was no forlorn orphan, but a -Queen forgetful of her duties, and that the ants had forbidden her to -hold any further converse with mankind. Then she broke away and fled in -haste from the King’s son; but he pursued her, with caressing words, -to the very foot of her mountain. Here she prayed and implored him to -leave her, but he would only consent upon her promising to meet him -again the following evening. - -She glided noiselessly in, feeling her way along the galleries, and -looking fearfully behind her, for she fancied she heard the sound of -hurriedly tripping feet and whispering voices all around. No doubt it -was but the anxious beating of her heart, for as soon as she stood -still all was silence. At last she reached her chamber and sank in -exhaustion upon her couch, but no soothing sleep fell on her eyelids. -She felt that she had broken her promise; and who would now hold her -in respect, since her word was no longer sacred? She tossed uneasily -to and fro; her pride revolted against any secrecy, and yet she knew -the ants only too well--their implacable hate, their cruel punishments. -Many times she raised herself on her elbow to listen, and always she -seemed to hear the hurried tripping of thousands of little feet, as -though the whole mountain were alive. - -When she felt that morning drew near, she lifted one of the rose-leaf -curtains to hurry out into the open. But what was her amazement when -she found the doorway completely stopped up with pine-needles! She -tried another, then a third, until she had been the round of them -all. In vain--they were all filled in to the very roof. Then she -called aloud, and lo! the ants appeared in hosts, creeping in through -countless tiny, invisible openings. - -“I must go forth into the air,” said Viorica in commanding tones. - -“Nay,” replied the ants, “we cannot let thee forth, or we shall lose -thee.” - -“Do ye then obey me no more?” - -“Yea, in all things, save this one. Crush us under foot in punishment -if thou wilt; we are ready to die for the good of our community, and to -save the honour of our Queen.” - -Viorica bowed her head, and tears gushed from her eyes. She implored -the ants to give her back her freedom, but the stern little creatures -held their peace, and all at once she found herself alone in those dark -halls. - -Oh, how Viorica wept and wailed and tore her beautiful hair! Then she -began to try and dig an opening with her tender fingers, but all she -scooped out was filled in again as quickly, so that she was fain at -last to throw herself upon the ground in despair. The ants brought her -the sweetest flowers, and nectar and dewdrops to quench her thirst, but -all her prayers for freedom remained unanswered. - -In the fear that her wailing might be heard without, the ants built -their hill higher and higher, till it was as high as the peak Vîrful cu -Dor, and they called their mountain Furnica, or “the ant.” The King’s -son has long since left off riding round about the mountain, but in -the silence of the night one can still hear the sound of Viorica’s -weeping. - - - - -V - -THE CARAIMAN - -[Illustration] - - -The Caraiman towers up, dark and threatening of aspect, with his mighty -peak of rock, that looks as though a great fragment of it had been -partly loosened, and were hanging in mid-air. That part of the rock is -shaped like a set of bagpipes--and this is the tale they tell about it. - -Long, long ago, when the sky was nearer to the earth than now, and -there was more water than land, there dwelt a mighty sorcerer in the -Carpathians. He was as tall as the tallest pine-tree, and he carried -upon his head a whole tree with green twigs and budding branches. His -beard, that was many yards long, was of moss, and so were his eyebrows. -His clothing was of bark, his voice was like rolling thunder, and -beneath his arm he carried a set of bagpipes, as big as a house. He -could do anything he liked with his bagpipes. When he played softly, -young green sprang up all round about him, as far as his eye could -reach; if he blew harder, he could create living things; but when he -blew fearfully loud, then such a storm arose that the mountains shook -and the sea shrank back from the rocks, so that more land was left -uncovered. - -Once he was attacked by some powerful enemies, but instead of having -to defend himself, he merely put the bagpipes to his lips, and changed -his foes into pines and beech-trees. He was never tired of playing, for -it delighted his ear when the echo sent back the sound of his music to -him, but still more was his eye delighted to see all grow into life -around him. Then would thousands of sheep appear, on every height and -from every valley, and upon the forehead of each grew a little tree, -whereby the Caraiman might know which were his; and from the stones -around, too, dogs sprang forth, and every one of them knew his voice. -Since he had not noticed much that was good in the inhabitants of other -countries, he hesitated a long while before making any human beings. -Yet he came to the conclusion that children were good and loving, and -he decided to people his land with children only. So he began to play -the sweetest tune he had ever yet composed--and behold! children sprang -up on every side, and yet more children, in endless crowds. Now you can -fancy how wonderful the Caraiman’s kingdom looked. Nothing but play -was ever carried on there; and the little creatures toddled and rolled -around in that beautiful world and were very happy. They crept under -the ewes and sucked the milk from their udders; they plucked herbs and -fruit and ate them; they slept on beds of moss and under overhanging -rocks, and were as happy as the day was long. Their happiness crept -even into their sleep, for then the Caraiman played them the loveliest -airs, so that they had always beautiful dreams. - -There was never any angry word spoken in the kingdom of the Caraiman, -for these children were all so sweet and joyful that they never -quarrelled with one another. There was no occasion for envy or jealousy -either, since each one’s lot was as happy as his neighbour’s. And the -Caraiman took care that there should be plenty of sheep to feed the -children; and with his music he always provided enough of grass and -herbs, that the sheep, too, might be well nourished. - -No child ever hurt itself, either; the dogs took care of that, for they -carried them about and sought out the softest, mossiest spots for their -playgrounds. If a child fell into the water, the dogs fetched it out; -and if one were tired, a dog would take it upon his back and carry it -into the cool shade to rest. In short, the children were as happy as -though they had been in Paradise. They never wished for anything more, -since they had never seen anything outside their little world. - -There were not yet any “smart” or “ugly” clothes then; nor any fine -palaces with miserable huts beside them, so that no one could look -enviously at his neighbour’s belongings. Sickness and death were -unknown, too, in the Caraiman’s country; for the creatures he made came -into the world as perfect as a chick from its shell, and there was no -need for any to die, since there was so much room for all. All the -land which he had redeemed from the sea had to be populated, and for -nothing but sheep and children there was room on it, and to spare, for -many a long day. - -The children knew nothing of reading or writing; it was not necessary -they should, since everything came to them of itself, and they had -to take no trouble about anything. Neither did they need any further -knowledge, since they were exposed to no dangers. - -Yet, as they grew older, they learnt to dig out little dwellings for -themselves in the ground, and to carpet them with moss, and then of a -sudden they began to say, “This is mine.” - -But when once a child had begun to say, “This is mine,” all the others -wanted to say it too. Some built themselves huts like the first; but -others found it much easier to nestle into those that were already -made, and then, when the owners cried and complained, the unkind little -conquerors laughed. Thereupon those who had been cheated of their -belongings struck out with their fists, and so the first battle arose. -Some ran and brought complaints to the Caraiman, who in consequence -blew a mighty thunder upon his bagpipes, which frightened all the -children terribly. - -So they learnt for the first time to know fear; and afterwards they -showed anger against the tale-bearers. In this way even strife and -division entered into the Caraiman’s beautiful, peaceful kingdom. - -He was deeply grieved when he saw how the tiny folk in his kingdom -behaved in just the same way as the grown people in other lands, and he -debated how he might cure the evil. Should he blow them all away into -the sea, and make a new family? But the new ones would soon be as bad -as these, and then he was really too fond of his little people. Next he -thought of taking away everything over which they might quarrel; but -then all would become dry and barren, for it was but over a handful of -earth and moss that the strife had arisen, and, in truth, only because -some of the children had been industrious and others lazy. Then he -bethought himself of making them presents, and gave to each sheep and -dogs and a garden for his particular use. But this only made things far -worse. Some planted their gardens, but others let them run wild, and -then perceived that the cultivated gardens were the fairest, and that -the sheep that had good pasture gave the most milk. Then the trouble -became great indeed. The lazy children made a league against the -others, attacked them, and took away many of their gardens. Then the -industrious ones moved to a fresh spot, which soon grew fair also under -their hands; or else they refused to be driven out, and long conflicts -arose, in the course of which some of the children were slain. When -they saw death for the first time they were greatly frightened -and grieved, and swore to keep peace with one another. But all in -vain--they could not stay quiet for long; so, as they were now loth -to kill one another, they began to take away each other’s property by -stealth and with cunning. And this was far sadder to see; the Caraiman, -indeed, grew so heavy of heart over it that he wept rivers of tears. -They flowed down through the valley and into the sea; yet the wicked -children never considered that these were the tears their kind father -was weeping over them, and went on bickering and quarrelling. Thereupon -the Caraiman wept ever more and more, and his tears turned to torrents -and cataracts that devastated the land, and ended by changing it into -one large lake, wherein countless living creatures came to their -death. Then he ceased weeping, and blew a mighty wind, which left the -land dry again; but now all the green growth had vanished, houses and -gardens lay buried under heaps of stones, and the sheep, for lack of -pasture, no longer gave any milk. Then the children cut their throats -open with sharp stones, to see if the milk would not flow out in a -fresh place; but instead of milk, blood gushed out, and when they had -drunk that they became fierce, and were always craving for more of it. -So they slew many other sheep, stealing those of their brethren, and -drank blood and ate meat. Then the Caraiman said, “There must be larger -animals made, or there will soon be none left!” and blew again upon his -bagpipes. And behold! wild bulls came into the world, and winged horses -with long scaly tails, and elephants, and serpents. The children now -began to fight with all these creatures, and thereby grew very tall -and strong themselves. Many of the animals allowed themselves to be -tamed and made useful; but others pursued the children and killed them, -and as they no longer dwelt in such peace and safety, many grievous -and dangerous sicknesses appeared among them. Soon they became in all -respects like the men of other lands, and the Caraiman grew more and -more soured and gloomy, since all that which he had intended to use -for good, had but turned to evil. His creatures, too, neither loved -nor trusted him, and instead of perceiving that they themselves had -wrought the harm, thought that the Caraiman had sent sorrow upon them -out of wanton cruelty and sport. They would no longer listen to the -bagpipes, whose sweet strains had of old been wont to delight their -ears. The old giant, indeed, did not often care to play on his pipes -now. He had grown weary for very sorrow, and would sleep for hours -together under the shade of his eyebrows, which had grown down into his -beard. But sometimes he would start up out of sleep, put the pipes to -his mouth, and blow a very trumpet-blast out into the wicked world. -Hence there at last arose such a raging storm that the trees ground, -creaking and groaning, against one another, and caused a fire to burst -out, so that soon the whole forest was in flames. Then he reached up -with the tree that grew upon his head, till he touched the clouds, -and shook down rain, to quench the fire. But all this while the human -beings below had but one thought--how to put the bagpipes to silence -for ever and ever. So they set out with lances and spears, and slings -and stones, to give battle to the giant; but at the sight of them he -burst into such laughter that an earthquake took place, which swallowed -them all up, with their dwellings and their cattle. Then another host -set out against him with pine-torches, wherewith to set his beard on -fire. He did but sneeze, however, and all the torches were extinguished -and their bearers fell backwards to the earth. A third host would have -bound him while he slept, but he stretched his limbs, and the bonds -burst, and all the men about him were crushed to atoms. Then they would -have set upon him all the mighty wild beasts he had created. But he -swept the air together and made thereof an endless fall of snow, that -covered them over and over, and buried them deep, and turned to ice -above them; so that after thousands of years, when their like was no -more to be seen on earth, those beasts still lay, with fur and flesh -unchanged, embedded in the ice. - -[Illustration: But at the sight of them he burst into such laughter----] - -Then they bethought themselves of getting hold of the bagpipes by -stealth, and carrying them off while the giant was asleep. But he laid -his head upon them, and it was so heavy that men and beasts together -could not drag the pipes from under it. So at last they crept up quite -softly and bored a tiny hole in the bagpipes--and lo! there arose such -a storm that one could not tell earth or sea or sky apart, and scarcely -anything survived of all that the Caraiman had created. But the giant -awoke no more; he is still slumbering, and under his arm are the -bagpipes, which sometimes begin to sound, when the storm-wind catches -in them, as it hurries down the Prahova valley. If only some one could -but mend the bagpipes, then the world would belong to the children once -more. - - - - -VI - -THE STAGS’ VALLEY - -[Illustration] - - -Between the mountains Caraiman and Omul lies a wide valley shaped like -a crescent. It is called _Valea Cerbului_--the Stags’ Valley--though -for a long time past no stags have been seen there. But the valley -contains something else which time cannot do away. All along the foot -of the mountain, and leaning up against it, stand a number of gigantic -stone figures, with unmistakable hands and faces, not unlike statues of -the ancient Egyptian gods. A strange legend is told about these figures. - -In days gone by there dwelt among these mountains a race of men, proud -and of mighty strength, who were feared in all the region round about, -for whatever they undertook was sure of success. From the hour of -their birth they lived out under the open sky, slept upon the snow, and -bathed in the icy mountain-streams. They were so tall that they could -climb the highest mountains in a few steps; and if they did but give a -tree one single stroke, it remained crooked for all time to come. They -drank the milk of winged hinds and rode upon winged stags, whose wings, -however, only increased their speed in covering the ground, for they -could not rise into the air with burdens upon their backs. - -An aged, very aged King ruled over these men; he was so wise that they -consulted him about everything, and obeyed him like children. It was -a glorious sight when the old man, with waving white locks and beard, -swept by upon his winged stag, all his men following after, like a -storm-cloud, beneath whose thunder the Carpathians shook again. - -There was something, however, which filled them all with deepest -concern. King Briar had no son, but only one daughter--a glorious -maiden, as tall as a fir-tree, as bold as a boy, and so strong that she -could lead the wild winged stags three and four on one halter, without -giving way a step when they reared and tore at the bridle. - -The men held a great council, and came to lay their anxious thoughts -before the King. “May the Great Spirit send thee yet a long, long -life,” said they, “but when he shall call thee down to the golden -caverns below, whom are we to choose in thy stead, since thou hast no -son? We would gladly choose thy daughter, and gladly would we serve -her, but how can we submit a maiden to the hard test our kings have to -undergo?” - -The King stroked his white beard and answered: “Who knows but my child -would endure the ordeal as heroically as though she were a lad? Ye -can see that in all other matters she is brave and strong, and if she -should choose a good and a wise mate, ye would be as happy then as ye -are now. I will ask her if she will make the trial.” - -King Briar clapped his hands. Then the Carpathians trembled from end to -end; and presently, amid a trampling of hoofs and rustling of wings, a -sound like the rushing of the storm-wind drew near. - -The King’s daughter stood upright upon a stag’s back, clasping the -golden chains that held his bit in one hand, while with the other she -swung a whip, as long as a huge snake, that flashed in the air like -a streak of fiery lightning. Her form seemed to reach up to the sky, -and her hair fluttered about her like a thick cloud, hiding the sun -at intervals. But, instead of the sun, the stars in her face shone -forth, and the teeth that her laughing mouth disclosed, as she sang and -shouted for glee. - -The King glanced at his men with a smile, as though he would have said, -“Is she enough of a lad for ye?” - -At that moment she sprang to the ground, and throwing the chains to -some of the bystanders, she cried, “There, take them; but there is not -one of you can drive them all at once.” Then kneeling before the King, -she asked in gentle tones, “Didst thou call me, my father?” - -“Vijelia,[4] my child, arise and look upon these men; they have come to -ask who shall be king after me. Whom thinkest thou?” - -The maiden gazed earnestly at one and another, and when she had scanned -every face, she turned again and examined each a second, yea, and a -third time. Her face the while grew ever more anxious and grave, and -more gloomy the frown that drew her heavy brows together, till the -flashing eyes, in which a tear glistened, were darkened as by the -shades of night. - -Then she spoke in a deep and hollow voice: “None, my father; for not -one is thine equal in my eyes. But thou, in thy wisdom, hast surely -chosen long since, and chosen the best.” - -“He whom I choose must submit to the test of which I still bear the -scars on my body. Dost thou know the test, my child?” - -“Yea, surely do I know it! It is a pity that I am not a lad. The test -would not make me quail!” - -“And what if I should treat thee as a lad?” - -“Me!” A crimson flush overspread the cheeks and forehead and throat of -the noble maiden, and with trembling lips she spoke:-- - -“I have not deserved so great an honour, and know not whether I -have understanding enough; but the test I will gladly endure, if my -father will make the first throw with his own hand. He shall himself -consecrate me as his successor, but he must yet live for long years -after, and grant me my freedom as of yore.” - -This speech was greeted with a tempest of applause, that thundered and -re-echoed till the eagles felt the air quiver around them, and the -trees swayed as though beneath the northern storm-wind. The King’s -daughter bent her head with a smile of acknowledgment, and thrust back -the golden locks from her glowing face. The day upon which the test was -to begin was now fixed, and the place for it chosen. - -[Illustration: The maiden gazed earnestly at one and another.] - -First of all, Vijelia had to stand through a whole day, without meat or -drink, in the burning sun. If she showed any weakness or weariness, or -ate and drank too greedily when evening came, she could not be king. - -The second day she was to collect a mighty heap of stones from a -certain river in the depths of the valley, and would have to perform -her journey countless times before she could get together the requisite -number of stones, which, on the third day, were to be cast at her. If -her endurance failed beneath the stoning, she could not be king. - -The oldest man of the tribe explained all this to her, and she listened -to him with a cheerful face. - -The day came--a burning hot July day--and at sunrise Vijelia, clad in -a snowy woollen robe, took her stand upon a neighbouring hill-top. For -the first few hours she sang, as she stood there, in a full and ringing -voice; but as noon drew on, her lips and throat grew so dry, she was -fain to keep silence. The sun had already passed over the highest of -the mountain-peaks before she even changed her weight from one foot -to the other. Suddenly she heard the sound of hoofs ascending towards -her, and lo! her stags appeared, and, flying around her, fanned her -with a cool breeze from their wings; then her favourite hind drew near, -offering her full udders for her mistress to drink from. But Vijelia, -with stern voice, bade them all depart, and with drooping heads the -faithful creatures slank away to their pasture. - -The hours crept slowly on, and the sun burnt so hot that the tips of -Vijelia’s golden locks were singed by it. But she did not stir. - -When the sun was setting the men came and offered her a drink of water, -but she only moistened her lips with it, and called, “Mititica!” Then -the winged hind came flying up, and she took a little milk from her, -refusing all other nourishment. - -King Briar gazed with anxious eyes at his beautiful daughter, but she -gave him a merry laugh, and said the first day had passed quickly and -easily indeed. When the darkness fell she went down to the river, and -plunged as many as ten times into its cool depths. Then she climbed the -bank, and sitting upon a mossy stone, began to shake out the coils of -her hair. The moon rose over the mountain-top and looked down upon the -maiden sitting there in her heavenly beauty, and tenderly did she shed -her beams upon her, so that the drops that were wrung from the golden -coils glittered like silver. The moon did not know that that perfect -body was to endure a cruel hail of stones, or she would have veiled her -face for very sadness. - -When the second day dawned, there stood Vijelia in her short garment, -as fresh and cheerful as though no fatigue could ever touch her. When -the men came to fetch her down for this day’s work, she was ranging -over the hill upon her stag Graur, casting herself down upon his back, -and playing with his wings, like a child in the cradle. But now she -sprang down and dismissed the creature with a light touch of the hand; -then, taking a broad, flat fragment of rock upon her shoulder, she -carried it down into the valley, laid it beside the river’s edge, and -wading into the water, began to seek for stones, which she piled upon -it as high as it would hold. - -“Help me up with it on to my shoulder,” said she. But none of the men -could lift the weight. Then she bent down, and, laughing, threw it on -to her left shoulder. Moreover, she made the men pick up the stones -that had slipped off the while, and throw them on to the heap with the -rest. Then she set off so fast up the hill that no one could follow -her, put down her load, and ran back to the valley again without -waiting to rest. - -King Briar sat watching his daughter from the heights above, and -stroked his white beard in silence. - -Long before the day had begun to decline, Vijelia had already collected -the prescribed number of stones. She crossed her arms and stood and -looked at the heap, without the smallest sign of flinching. King -Briar’s heart sank as he watched his child standing there, and he slept -but little that night. Yet she slept, quietly and soundly, beneath a -giant pine, through the branches of which the moonbeams stole to look -at the beautiful sleeper, lying with her head on her arms, her lips -slightly parted, in the sweetest, most childlike slumber. - -When the dawn aroused her, she sought out a linen garment that she had -spun and woven herself, so that she could rely upon its strength. - -And thus she appeared before her people, so fair that the heart of many -a one burnt within him at the thought of misusing her. - -The heap of stones disappeared in a few minutes, for each man had armed -himself with one. Now they formed a great circle round the maiden, who -quietly gathered her hair up and fastened it in a knot. - -“So that ye may not think my mantle shields me,” she explained, with a -smile. - -The first stone sped from the hand of King Briar himself, who looked -his daughter firmly and earnestly in the face as he cast it. She -kissed the place on her arm where he had smitten her, and threw him a -kiss with both hands. Then she stood as still as a statue beneath the -hail of stones, though her anguish grew with every moment. Only once -a sigh escaped her, and she crossed her hands for a moment over her -breast--and the hands were so white! But she let her arms drop again -directly, and only turned her head aside, looking towards the sun, that -was slowly, very slowly, sinking nearer to the mountain-top, and bathed -the maiden’s face in a golden glow. - -On a sudden the rain of stones ceased, and all the men knelt, with -lowered swords and lances, at her feet, while in solemn voices they -swore faith to her--eternal faith, and never to be broken. - -But she raised her hand and spoke:-- - -“And I swear to you to work, to fight, and to endure, with and for you, -to my life’s end!” Then she turned to the King and whispered low to -him: “Give me thy hand, father; I am weary.” - -The old man cast his mantle round her, and clasping his arm about her, -led her homewards. She leaned her head on his shoulder, but as she went -she felt something snuffing about her ear, and there was Graur, her -faithful stag. - -“Ha, do thou carry me!” she cried, and kissing the beast’s warm, downy -nose, she sprang on his back and was out of sight in the twinkling -of an eye. Graur bore her down to the river, in which she bathed for -a long time, stretching and cooling her bruised limbs. She drank -greedily, too, of the ice-cold water, and then came dashing homewards -as merrily as though she had endured nothing. - -For a while life went on again as of old, and Vijelia was once -more the same untamed creature that she had ever been--wild as the -storm-wind, and refusing to hear aught that concerned the affairs of -government. But King Briar aged visibly, and his people besieged him -with requests that he would choose a mate for his daughter, so that he -might soon hope to hold a fair grandson upon his knee. - -“Whom wilt thou have for thy husband, my child?” he one day asked his -daughter. “Do none of our people please thee?” - -“Nay,” answered Vijelia, “I cannot wed any of those who stoned me; I -should always remember it, and could not give myself to him in true -love. The man whom I shall love must come down from the air above, into -which none belonging to us can rise up--none save our winged stags.” - -She had scarcely ceased speaking, when there appeared as it were a -mighty cloud, descending from the heavens, and from the midst of the -cloud the sound of a harp rang forth unearthly sweet. Slowly the cloud -sank earthwards, and now it disclosed to view a radiant youth, his head -covered with waving curls, who held in his hand a harp, that towered -aloft as high as the forest trees, and was strung with golden strings, -that glittered, like a rainbow, with a thousand changing hues. Now he -would smite the chords with a powerful hand, and again he would only -blow softly upon them, and then they sent forth such sounds as melted -the very heart in one’s breast. - -Vijelia stood motionless, gazing up at him, and still she gazed on, as -he sprang boldly to the ground, and with a thrust of his hand sent back -the cloud that had brought him thither, away into the blue distance -above. And now he came straight toward the maiden, and stretching out -his hands to her, spoke thus:-- - -“I come from out the air; I am _Viscol_.[5] Wilt thou be mine, for I am -thine equal?” - -“Yea,” answered the maiden, as though in a dream. “I will be thine, for -all time.” - -But King Briar frowned, saying: - -“And dost thou, indeed, love him already, my child? Have a care; for -thou wilt not find happiness at his side, and he is not fitted for our -people; he will ever be ranging far away over the skies and leaving -thee alone, till thy men will refuse to serve thee. Child, child, it -will come to a bad end, and thou wilt not be happy!” - -“Happy or not, it is all alike to me, father. I cannot live without -him; and I would rather be miserable with him than happy with another!” - -With a deep sigh, the old King consented to her wish; but he cut short -the promises and protestations of the youth with an impatient gesture -of the hand. - -“I will judge thee by thine actions,” he said curtly. - -At first all went merrily enough; now Vijelia would ride through the -heavens upon a cloud, and again, her husband would go forth with the -flying stags. But the King often heard his men complain that there was -much unrest in the land, and that the stranger had better never have -come. - -Presently, however, Vijelia began to stay much at home with her father, -while her husband went rushing over the world. She spoke very little, -and looked far sadder than she had done upon the day of her stoning. -When she was asked where her husband was, she would hang her head and -answer, “I know not;” or again, if inquiry were made when he was -coming back, or when he would carry her forth with him upon the clouds, -still the answer was, “I know not.” - -And when he did return he was rough and violent, and the more humbly -and quietly his young wife behaved, the more hardly he treated her. - -Often did old King Briar’s beard tremble and his head droop toward the -earth, whereon, indeed, he soon laid him down, saying: - -“I shall never see my fair grandson now! May the Great Spirit grant -thee, in him, the happiness thou hast not found for thyself!” - -When he was dead, his men mourned night and day with lowered spears -around his grave, for nine times nine weeks. And Vijelia did not cease -from sighs and groans, until, in the midst of her great sorrow, a -wondrous fair but exceeding tender little son was laid in her arms. -Her tears rained down upon his tiny face as she gave him the name of -Zephyr. Alas! how was he ever to rule this mighty people, and how -withstand his father’s harsh usage? - -She held him in her arms night and day, and never left him for an hour. -He lay upon her lap when she sat and pronounced sentence, or tried to -smooth over quarrels with all justice and wisdom. - -When Viscol returned his anger knew no bounds. She had to defend the -fragile child like a lioness, for he would fain have dashed him to -pieces against a rock. He threw the whole land into an uproar; he gave -unjust judgments, and was a scourge indeed, until he dashed forth again -upon his wanderings. His harp, which he had forgotten, was, however, -a source of consolation and joy both to mother and child. She learnt -to play dirges upon it, to which all the people listened; but it was -sweeter yet when Zephyr breathed across the strings--then the whole air -seemed to be swelling with song, and the heart in every bosom melted -for delight. - -Zephyr grew dazzlingly beautiful, all the more so since his mother -thought much of training and hardening him against the time of the -“King-choosing,” which she dreaded exceedingly for her tender boy. She -would trust him now to Graur, now to Mititica, who had to carry him for -hours, and use him to their quickest pace. But in the midst of these -rides Mititica would often kneel down and suffer him to suck a draught -of her milk. Vijelia, too, would run races with the boy, and teach him -to bend the bow and to bear heavy burdens; and, that he might become -used to pain, she would smite him with rods and pelt him with stones, -and if he did not laugh over it, but began to weep, she would call him -coward, and after bathing him in the coldest streams, would strike him -the next day yet harder, till he learnt to clench his teeth and laugh. - -The people had such a hatred of Viscol that they would suffer him to -enter the land no more, and shot at him as soon as he drew near upon -his cloud. Some of them loved the boy for his noble mother’s sake, but -some bore a grudge against him, because he was so delicate and tender. -But when he played upon his harp all were enchanted, and, indeed, when -he stood beside the harp, his silky golden curls falling upon his -shoulders, he looked like a being from another world. He could not, it -is true, drive five stags at once, or bear such burdens as his mother -could; but he was far stronger than she had ever dared to hope, when -he reached his sixteenth year, and the men judged it was time to try -him and see if he were strong enough to be king. If it should chance -otherwise, they were ready to force upon Vijelia another husband, -chosen from amongst them, whose son might be expected to prove a -stalwart king. - -Zephyr bore the heat of the sun the whole day without flinching, and -no one knew that all through the ensuing night he tossed to and fro in -fever, while his mother watched beside him and bathed his temples. The -next day he gathered the stones together, and his mother went beside -him all the while, and secretly lent a helping hand. When evening came -and the darkness covered them, he sank fainting into her arms. And -now dawned the day, of which the unhappy mother stood in such dread. -Every stone that struck her boy’s fair body smote her in the heart. -Once she saw him reel, but her clear voice, ringing out in cheery -encouragement, brought back the colour to his cheeks and the smile to -his white lips. There were only a few more stones yet to come, when -one, cast by a spiteful hand, sped forth, sharp and pointed, and struck -the lad upon the temple. A wild cry burst from his mother, who flew to -catch her fainting child in her arms, and kneeling down, pressed his -blood-stained locks to her heart. He opened his eyes once more. “My -harp--bring me the harp!” he whispered, and clasping it in his arms, he -breathed out his pure soul into those chords, till the heavenly sound -echoed on and on, vibrating ever further upon the air. But the poor -mother rose up with fixed and terrible gaze, and lifting her arms to -the clouds, she cried, “May ye then turn to stone, O ye men of stone! -The Great Spirit will hear a mother’s voice, that cries aloud for -vengeance! Stone shall ye become, who have broken faith with me! -Stone shall ye become, who have cast out the purest spirit among you!” - -[Illustration: But the poor mother rose up with fixed and terrible -gaze, and lifting her arms to the clouds, she cried, “May ye then turn -to stone!”] - -And behold! before her eyes the people, as they stood in a circle, -were turned to stone. But she sighed so deeply that the sighs burst -her bosom, and went forth in wails of sorrow to tell the world of a -mother’s woe, and to shake the foundations of the world, that had -wrought such evil! - -And the winged stags rose up into the air and disappeared for ever. - - - - -VII - -THE WITCH’S STRONGHOLD - -[Illustration] - - -Going up the Prahova valley one cannot see “Cetatea Babei,” the -Witch’s Castle, because it is hidden by the Bucegi Mountain. It is a -jagged peak, and looks as though it were covered with ruins. A field -of eternal snow lies between it and the Jipi. In far-off times, when -wolves guarded the flocks, and eagles and doves made their nests -together, a proud castle stood there, and within the castle busy -doings went on. From morning till night it rang with pattering, -clanging, bustling sounds, and hundreds of hasty footsteps scurried to -and fro therein. But at night-time a light shone forth from the tower, -and the humming of a mighty wheel was heard, and above the hum of the -wheel a wondrous, soft song seemed to hover, keeping time with it. Then -people would glance fearfully up toward the castle and whisper: “She -is spinning again!” And she who sat spinning there was the mistress of -the castle, a very evil witch, to whom the mountain-dwarfs brought all -the gold that they found in the depths of the earth, that she might -spin threads of gold for all the brides to wear upon their heads on -their wedding-day.[6] The gold was unloaded in heaps in her castle, -and she weighed it and chose it out--and woe to the dwarf who did not -bring the required weight; he was thrust between the stem and bark of -a huge tree, and squeezed until he gave up the very uttermost grain of -gold; or he would be caught by the beard only in the tree, and there -he might struggle and writhe as he pleased, and cry for mercy--the old -witch turned a deaf ear to it all. The name of _Baba Coaja_ (“Mother -Bark”) had been given her, perhaps because of this cruel custom of -hers, perhaps because she was as hard as a stale crust of bread, and as -wrinkled as the stem of an old oak. She alone understood the spinning -of the golden threads, and she went on preparing them for hundreds of -years in advance. - -Baba Coaja had a wondrously beautiful daughter, named _Alba_ (“The -White One”), for she was as white as the snow that covered the -mountain-tops. Her skin was like velvet, and like velvet, too, were her -brown eyes, and her hair was like the gold-threads that her mother spun. - -She was always kept shut up, for Baba Coaja had plenty of work for her -to do; and, besides, no one was to be allowed to see her, still less to -woo her. She had to wind all the golden thread on reels, and store it -up in underground cellars, ready for all those hundreds and hundreds -of years to come. This work was very burdensome to the sweet maiden, -because her mother would sing and mutter all sorts of evil spells and -sayings as she spun, so that a portion of sorrow and heartache was -already prepared for each bride, so soon as the golden threads should -have rested upon her head; and Alba thought sadly of all the trouble -that was being thus determined beforehand. Indeed, she once sat down -herself to the great wheel, while her mother was away, and spun a -length of thread into which she worked nothing but good wishes. But -when Baba Coaja came home she was very wroth, and beat her daughter -unmercifully, saying, as she threw the thread upon a heap with the -rest: “Thou shalt never wed until thou canst tell thine own spinning -apart again!” - -In her heart the old witch was glad to have a pretext for keeping her -daughter to herself, for it had been prophesied that Alba would be very -unhappy, and would die young. The only being that she loved in the -world was her beautiful child, yet, however much trouble she took to -please her with fine clothes and all sorts of pretty trifles, she could -not bring a shade of colour to her cheek or a smile to her eyes, for -the only thing the maiden yearned after was freedom, and that was never -hers. How she longed to go wandering for once beneath the trees that -clothed the foot of the mountain whereon she dwelt. Up there nothing -grew, save a little short grass; and the winter lasted far longer than -the summer. When the wind howled round the castle, raging as though he -would tear it to pieces, then her heart would grow heavy indeed; she -would sit for hours before the hearth, staring into the fire, watching -the sparks fly, and thinking of nothing at all. Or again, she would -listen to her mother’s uncanny singing, while the humming of the wheel -and the howling of the storm mingled in one dreary accompaniment. And -then she would wonder why she spun so much sorrow for the brides into -the gold-threads--why men were not suffered to be happy and gay, out -there in the beautiful sunshine, for that always looked bright and -merry. But she could never make out the reason why, and would fall -asleep at last from sheer thinking. The great reels of gold in the -cellars all had one and the same face, yet she would play with them, -and pretend they were people, and make up their histories, and try -and fancy what would befall the brides that were to wear those golden -threads; but as she knew nothing of the world, all her stories were -very unlikely ones. - -“Mother,” she asked one day, resting her chin upon her hand, “are the -people in the world just as we are, thou and I--or have they other -forms, and other thoughts?” - -“What are the people in the world to thee? They are all very bad, and -would only do thee harm if they got hold of thee.” - -“But a while ago a beautiful creature came up our mountain, and there -sat one upon him, one who was fairer far to see than any of the little -dwarfs; he had black locks, and no beard, and a purple mantle. Was not -that a man?” - -[Illustration: “But a while ago a beautiful creature came up our -mountain.”] - -The old witch was terror-stricken at this speech, and answered: “If he -does but ride up here again, I will break his neck for him, and those -in the valley shall never see him again!” - -“Oh, mother! do not thus--he was so fair!” - -“If thou dost think but once again of him, I tell thee I will lock -thee in the cellar, and make thee weigh gold out night and day. As it -is, thou art grown so idle in these latter times, and dost nought but -sit there and ask useless questions! Hast thou not all thy heart can -desire?” - -“Nay, mother; I too would fain have a beautiful creature, such as -yonder man had, and sit upon it. Up here there are but sheep, and one -cannot sit upon them.” - -“Now thou wouldst have a horse indeed, wouldst thou, foolish child! -Dost not see that it were dangerous to life to ride here? The grass -is slippery and the abyss deep. One false step, and thou wert lying -shattered to pieces down below.” - -Alba thought over this for a long while, and wondered why it was -dangerous for horses to go where sheep could tread in safety; but to -this question also she got no reply, for she did not dare to ask it. -Only, the dwarfs appeared much uglier to her than before, and the gold -became so distasteful to her that she could not bear to look at it. She -constantly thought of the beautiful horse, and of the youth who was -to have his neck broken if he showed himself there again. Why did her -mother want to break his neck? This time, too, she found no answer, -however much she puzzled over the matter. - -Some time after, the handsome youth rode up to the mountain again; he -was tormented by curiosity to discover who lived in that mighty castle, -whose walls were hewn out of the living rock. He was a king’s son, and -his name was Porfirie. He was not used to being unable to do things, -and any obstacle was welcome to his impetuous nature. When they spoke -to him of marriage, he was wont to reply that he should win his bride -from the clutches of a dragon, or pluck her down from a cliff, but -never have her tamely wooed for him by a deputy, and end up with a -commonplace wedding! - -Just at that moment Alba was busy bedecking herself, by way of passing -the time, after having worked at reeling off gold all the morning. She -had bathed her hands and face, and combed her long hair with her ivory -comb, and about her brow she had bound a double row of pearls, in which -she had fastened an alpine rose sideways. Her robe was white, with a -golden girdle, and over it flowed a green velvet mantle, held on either -shoulder with chains of pearls. Around her snow-white throat she laid -a string of emeralds, as large as pigeons’ eggs, a present from the -mountain-dwarfs; and then she looked at herself in the glass, in which, -however, she could not see how her golden hair gleamed upon the green -velvet mantle. Indeed, she could not have seen aright at all, or the -glass was bad, for now she smote her face, crying: “How ugly I am!--oh, -how ugly! That is why my mother hides me from all men, and gives me -fine dresses, and jewels like a queen’s--that it may be forgotten how -ugly I am!” - -Just then the sound of horses’ hoofs echoed among the rocks, and with -horror-stricken gaze she beheld the handsome stranger, who was to lose -his life if he appeared again before the castle. He must be warned at -any cost. She sprang like a wild goat down the mountain-side, with -fluttering mantle and waving hair, in which the sunbeams seemed to -catch as she went. The young King saw her speeding towards him over the -rocks, her feet scarcely seeming to touch the stones upon the way, and -reined in his horse in wonder-struck admiration. He asked himself what -princess, or mountain-fairy, this might be, flying down to him thus. -And now she waved both her arms, crying breathlessly: “Back, back! Do -not come up hither--it were thy death!” - -“And though it should be my death,” he exclaimed, “I would die gladly, -seeing I have beheld the fairest maid that ever trod this earth!” - -Alba stood still before him, a faint blush overspread her cheeks, and -looking at him with wide-open eyes, she said: “Am I fair?” - -“Yea, verily, wondrous fair! So bewitching art thou, with thy golden -hair and thy golden eyes, that I love thee from this hour!” - -“And I love thee, too,” replied the guileless maiden, unaware of the -fact that it is not customary among men to say what one thinks. “But do -not say my hair is golden, for gold is so ugly!” - -“Ugly!” The King’s son laughed. “I have never heard that of it before. -Hast thou, then, seen so much gold that it has grown to seem ugly to -thee?” - -“Ah, yes! I see nought save gold--instead of green trees, gold--instead -of flowers, gold--instead of men, gold--heaps of it, like that.” And -she spread out her arms and turned herself about. “Oh, how much rather -would I sit upon yon beautiful creature! I have never seen a horse -before--may I touch it?” - -“Yes, indeed, and stroke it too, and climb up beside me. Thou shalt -ride as long as thou hast a mind to.” - -Then he bade her rest her foot on his and give him both her hands, -and so he drew her up before him on the saddle, clasped his arm about -her, and gave his horse the spur. He fancied she would be frightened, -but no such thought occurred to the gentle, innocent creature, for she -knew nought of danger. As soon as the ground was soft beneath them he -loosened the reins, and away they sped, through the woodland shade, -and over the flowery meadows. - -Alba shouted and clapped her hands for glee, crying: “Faster, faster -yet!” So they drew near to the city, through which they had to ride -before reaching the hill upon which the royal castle stood. Then -suddenly fear came upon the maiden. - -“Are all these human beings?” she asked, as they rode at a foot’s-pace -through the streets. “And does not the wind blow down these tiny -houses?” - -“Nay,” laughed Porfirie. “The wind does not blow here as hard as it -does up yonder.” - -“See, my people,” he cried to the folk as he passed, “here I bring -you your Queen. She is a fairy-blossom, and I plucked her from yonder -cliff!” - -“But I am no Queen,” said Alba in affright. - -“I am a King, and since thou art to be my wife, thou wilt become Queen -also.” - -“Thy wife? But I was to have no husband, my mother said.” - -“She only said that because she knew that none was to have thee, save I -alone.” - -“Art thou not at all bad, then?” - -“No, I am not bad.” - -“Then art thou not a human being?” - -“Nay, but I am.” - -“Yet my mother said that all human creatures were bad, and that I must -have nought to do with them.” - -“Who is thy mother, then?” - -“That I do not know. She spins gold.” - -“Spins gold? And for what?” - -“For bridal veils--but I will have no gold at my wedding!” added Alba -hastily, and she clutched at her head as though she would defend it -from that dangerous contact. - -“But thou canst not do otherwise,” said Porfirie, “or every one would -wonder. Here we are at my home; we are even now riding into the -courtyard, and thou must speak pleasantly to my mother.” - -“Is she old and ugly?” - -“Nay, she is fair and proud.” - -“What does ‘proud’ mean?” asked Alba. - -Porfirie looked into her eyes--they were as clear and unsullied as the -sun itself. He pressed the maiden to his heart; then throwing the reins -to the attendants who came forward, he sprang from his horse, lifted -Alba gently to the ground, and offered his hand to lead her up the -broad stone steps. - -They entered a lofty hall, and there sat a tall, noble lady, surrounded -by many maidens, and she was spinning beautiful gold-coloured silk. All -rose from their work, and gazed in delighted amaze on the beautiful -pair standing beneath the portal, that was just then flooded by the -glory of the setting sun. - -“Here, mother,” cried Porfirie, “is thy dear daughter, my sweet bride, -whom I found up yonder, quite near the sky; and I am not yet sure -whether she be not indeed one of the heavenly inhabitants, that will -presently spread wings and flee away from us!” - -“Oh, thou beauteous lady!” cried Alba, and fell at the feet of the -Queen, who raised her up and kissed her with great kindness. - -“And thou art spinning too,” she went on, “only far, far more -beautifully than my mother; for what thou dost spin is as soft and fine -as snowflakes, or the petals of flowers.” - -“What does thy mother spin, then?” - -“Oh, always that hard, ugly gold!” - -“Gold!” echoed the bystanders; and many laughed, and did not believe -the maiden’s words. - -“Canst thou, too, spin gold?” - -“I can, but I may not.” - -“Why not?” - -She was opening her lips to tell what her mother did over her spinning, -but all at once she felt strangely ill at ease, and realised how -angrily every one would look at her if the maidens knew that all kinds -of sorrow was spun for them into their bridal veils. And here they were -all looking so happy and so kind, these bad people, against whom her -mother had warned her! They seemed far better, indeed, than that mother -herself, of whom the mountain-dwarfs were always so horribly afraid. - -She was relieved of her perplexity by hearing one of the maidens -whisper: “Her dress is velvet--real white velvet!” - -“And the jewels--from whom did she get her jewels?” said another, -rather louder. - -“From my friends,” answered Alba. “Would you like them? I have many -more such playthings at home.” And taking the emeralds from her neck, -she gave each of the girls one. - -She would have done the same with her strings of pearls, had not the -Queen prevented her. - -“Are thy friends so rich, then?” inquired the latter. - -“I do not know. What is ‘rich’? They bring it all up out of the earth -in sacks; and when they do not bring enough, they are punished.” - -Then the Queen’s face darkened; she drew her son aside and said: “This -maiden is none other than the daughter of the abominable witch, Baba -Coaja. Take her back as quickly as possible to the spot where thou -didst find her. She will only bring trouble upon our house.” - -“Ask anything of me but that, mother,” replied the young King, turning -pale. “I love this sweet and innocent maid with my every thought, with -my every breath, with all the blood in my veins, and though she were -Baba Coaja her very self, I could not give her up!” - -The Queen sighed. But she gave orders that an apartment should be made -ready next to her own for the maiden; and the wedding was fixed for the -following day. - -The Queen desired to adorn her new daughter for it with her own hands, -but she had a bitter struggle with her, because the maiden would on no -account suffer any gold-threads to be laid upon her head. She fled from -one end of the castle to the other like a hunted doe, she cast herself -upon the ground, and hid beneath the coverings of the divans; she -begged and prayed with streaming eyes that she might be spared. “Let -the Queen put some of the beautiful silken threads of her own spinning -upon her hair, only not the horrible gold!” - -But as she knelt wailing and praying before her, the Queen gave a -sign, and two of the attendant maidens bound her hands, while a third -fastened on the golden veil. They all expected to see an outbreak of -rage and despair; but Alba grew quite quiet. As pale as death, she -bowed her head beneath its burden. “Thou art harder than my mother,” -she said, “for she would not give me a husband, lest I should be -unhappy, but thou dost thyself call down sorrow upon me!” - -No one understood these words. Alba could not be prevailed upon to -explain them, whereby the general mistrust of her was yet further -increased. She looked so sad that the people no longer even recognised -in her the beaming maiden of yesterday; and all her young husband’s -words of love could not chase the clouds from her brow. - -At court there was presently no talk of anything but the countless -treasures of the young Queen, and many people urged the King to go up -the mountain and examine them for himself. He cared nothing for the -treasures; he only thought of how he could bring back the smile to his -young wife’s face, and fancied that perhaps, if he fetched her the -ornaments she was fond of, she would grow merry again. For she smiled -pityingly at the little stones other people called jewels, and could -not at all understand that such trifles should be costly. But as soon -as she learnt that Porfirie intended to ride up to her castle again, -she was terror-stricken, and implored and conjured him not to do so. -“It will surely be thy death,” said she. - -He, however, would not be convinced, and the more she depicted the -dangers that awaited him there, the more did these very dangers attract -him; so that one morning he set off secretly, while she still lay in a -deep slumber. - -With only a few followers, he dashed up towards Baba Coaja’s castle. -But she spied his coming from afar, and cried out to him as he drew -nearer: “A curse upon thee--thou who didst ravish my child, only to -bring her to sorrow! See here, then--satisfy the greed that has driven -thee back hither, miserable wretch! I never desired to have aught to do -with thee--why didst thou seek me out?” - -With these words she began to scatter down jewels in endless quantities -upon the horsemen; but as they fell, the precious stones were changed -into ice and snow, and whirled through the air in such clouds that the -unhappy men were unable to shield themselves, and were, moreover, so -dazzled that they could no longer see their way. The greater number -of them fell over the precipices; but the young King, who, thirsting -for vengeance, tried to reach the castle that he might strangle the -terrible witch, was so completely caught in the avalanche that ere a -moment was past he could no longer move a limb, and before he had time -to utter a word he was buried deep beneath the snow. - -As he disappeared, Baba Coaja said, with a malicious laugh: “Now she -will come, to him, not to me--yet it will be to me, not to him, that -she comes. I shall have my child again, for she may not remain in the -wicked world, and among men, whom I hate.” - -And indeed it was not long before Alba, weary with her long journey -afoot, her white velvet dress dusty and travel-stained, came hastening -up the mountain. - -“Where, where is he?” she asked, with blanched lips. - -“So!” said the old witch, “thou hast run away from me with a strange -man, and now comest back, and dost not ask after me, but after him? He -is not here.” - -“Yes, yes, he is! I traced him, up to the edge of yonder snow!” - -[Illustration: With these words she began to scatter down jewels in -endless quantities upon the horsemen.] - -“He came no further, indeed!” laughed the old witch. “He is smothered -beneath thy jewels!” - -With a terrible cry, Alba cast herself down upon the patch of snow and -began to shovel it away with her hands. But in vain! The covering that -lay upon her beloved was too heavy, it was frozen too fast. With one -cry--“Oh, mother, mother! what hast thou done to me!”--Alba fell dead -beside the ice and snow. - -Then Baba Coaja hurled forth so terrible a curse, that the very -mountain reeled, and the castle fell with a crash, burying her and -her gold beneath its ruins. But on the spot where the beautiful Alba -had drawn her last breath, there sprang up a white flower, in a white -velvet dress, which has ever since been called “Alba Regina,” or -_Edelweiss_. This flower only blooms close to the eternal snow which -covered her beloved, and is as white and pure as she was herself. - -Perhaps the snow will turn to jewels again some day, if an innocent -maiden should pass over it. - -The piece of gold-thread that Alba spun is still being sought for, and -every bride hopes that it is she who has found it. That is why not one -of them ever fears the golden threads that are so dangerous, but still -believes that happiness will be her portion. - - - - -VIII - -PIATRA ARSA - -(“THE BURNT ROCK”) - -[Illustration] - - -The beautiful Paùna was proud, very proud. It was not for nothing that -she had those great dark eyes, with black brows rising to a point -above them, and that sharply-cut aquiline nose. Her mouth was somewhat -large, but well-shaped, and when she spoke or laughed she showed two -gleaming rows of teeth. Her black tresses were coiled like a crown -above her brow, and the people were wont to call her, in jest, _Pui de -Imparat_, or “Emperor’s child,” when she went by with her long stride -and her broad shoulders, holding her head as straight as though she -were carrying something upon it. But she was not too proud to turn that -head when Tannas went by, or to give ear to him when he talked to -her during the Hora. Only, if any one teased her about him, an angry -flush would rise to her cheek, and she was quick to punish the daring -offender with a sharp retort. - -Tannas was an object of envy to all the other village lads, specially -as the betrothal was looked upon as a certainty. Then, on a sudden, -war broke out in the land, and Tannas had to join the army and march -down to the Danube. Paùna swallowed her tears before people; but no one -dared ask her whether she did not shed a few in secret. - -She always contrived to be one of the first in the village to get -tidings from the army; and when tales went about of the first battles -that had taken place, she was obliged, as she listened, to lean against -the great stone cross that stood at the entrance of the village, so -weak and faint did the strong Paùna turn. At night all sleep forsook -her, and she often had to let her light burn till morning, to chase -away the terrible visions that arose before her in the darkness, of -Tannas covered with wounds, and dead or dying. One dark night she was -sitting thus, still dressed, upon the edge of her bed--and never knew -that, outside, some one was gliding round the house, and peeping in at -her little window. She did not know, either, how beautiful she looked, -gazing before her with wide-open eyes, her hands folded upon her knee. -All at once there was a knocking on the window, and she sprang up with -a stifled cry, turning her head and trying to pierce the darkness with -her eyes. Then she fancied she could make out the face of Tannas at the -window, and presently, indeed, she heard him call her in low tones-- - -“Paùna, dear Paùna, I pray thee to come out to me. Do not be afraid; it -is only I, Tannas.” - -Paùna’s hand was already upon the latch--in a moment she was outside, -and felt herself enfolded in a warm embrace. But she put aside the arm -that clasped her, and said: “Art thou Tannas indeed, or is some one -making sport of me?” - -“Here, feel thine own little ring, Paùna; and here again, the coin -about my neck. I could bear it no longer, without coming to see whether -thou wert true to me.” - -“Who gave thee leave to come away from the army?” - -“Me? No one.” - -“No one?--and thou art here? Is the war over, then?” - -“Nay, there is still war. But I came secretly, and out of love to thee, -Paùna!” - -“Love to me!” Paùna gave a short, bitter laugh. “Dost thou think, then, -that it gives me pleasure to have a deserter for my betrothed? Go out -of my sight!” - -“Paùna! Is this thy love? Thou art sending me back to death and -destruction!” - -“Go whither thou wilt. This only I tell thee, I will never be thy -wife--I could not endure to have to despise my husband.” - -“Thou dost love some other!” - -“Nay, Tannas, thee I love, and thee alone. I have many a time watched -through the livelong night for love of thee; but I never dreamed that I -had a coward for my lover!” Paùna wept, burying her face in her hands. - -“And I, who thought thou wouldst welcome me with joy, and hide me in -thy dwelling!” - -“Oh, shame!” cried the maiden--“shame! that I should have betrothed -myself to thee. But this I swear, that the Bucegi Mountain shall burn -ere I become thy wife!” - -“And I swear,” cried Tannas, “that thou shalt not see me again till I -am a cripple--or dead!” - -And as they spoke thus, the two lovers faced one another with such -burning glances that their eyes sparkled in the darkness. - -Just then a red light shone out over the heights above, and looking up, -they saw that one of the rocky peaks of the Bucegi seemed all aglow. -Brighter and brighter it grew, till a red flame appeared to break out -and send up a shower of stars on high. The two lovers stood as though -turned to stone. Then windows began to open in the neighbouring houses, -and the people to call out to one another that there was a forest -fire--nay, that the mountain was burning! All the village was in an -uproar--dogs began to bark and cocks to crow. - -Thereupon Paùna took her lover by the shoulders, and thrusting him far -from her, she cried: “Away, away from hence--hide thy face, or I shall -die of shame!” - -Then she flung the door to behind her, and extinguished her light. -With a beating heart she watched Tannas slip away in the shadow of the -houses; and presently she turned her eyes to the mountain as it glowed -and slowly grew dark again, but never an answer did she give when the -neighbours called her to come and look at the miracle. - -[Illustration: And looking up, they saw that one of the rocky peaks of -the Bucegi seemed all aglow.] - -From that time forth people began to notice that Paùna looked -wonderfully pale; no smile was ever seen now upon her lips, that before -had been wont so often to curl in mockery, and quick retorts no longer -cut short the teasing words that folk called out to her as she passed. -She did her work in silence, but was often so tired that she was -obliged to sit down to rest upon the margin of the well, and bathe her -forehead with the fresh water. Sometimes she would gaze sadly at her -own reflection in the well, or glance timidly up towards the Bucegi -Mountain. All at once it began to be bruited about that Tannas had been -in the village; this person and that felt sure of having seen him by -the light of the burning mountain, and it was even said that his voice -had been heard with Paùna’s. When the latter was questioned about it, -the drops of sweat burst out upon her brow and round her lips, that -trembled slightly as she replied: “Was not all still and dark in our -house, the night that the mountain was on fire?” - -Paùna’s mother shook her head, till her very under lip quivered, and -said that all manner of strange signs were to be seen in these evil -days. - -At last the news came that a great and deadly battle had been fought. -This time Paùna was the last to hear of it, but when she did, she -hurried home and made a little bundle, tying up a gourd and some -maize-bread in a cloth; and when her mother anxiously asked her whither -she was going, she only said: “I shall soon come back again, mother; do -not fear for me.” - -The battlefield lay wide and silent in the twilight; thousands of dead -bodies were scattered upon it; horses writhed in the death-throes, or -limped about with drooping heads. The army was encamped around huge -sentry-fires, and the men no longer gave any heed to the cries and -wailings that echoed from the battlefield. A stately woman’s form moved -alone amid the lines of bodies; it was Paùna, who had already made -inquiry after Tannas throughout the whole camp. She drew bravely near -to both friend and foe, giving many a one a drink, and closely scanning -the features of the dead. Night had now closed in, and the moon lit up -the fearsome scene. Still the maiden moved to and fro, anon kneeling -down and resting some dying man’s head upon her breast, and again -searching some terribly disfigured corpse for a little ring, and a -coin about the throat. Only once she staggered back, and that was when -she beheld some women plundering a corpse, and heard the finger-joints -crack as they dragged the rings from off the hand. She hastened away, -but soon returned to scan the dead man’s face with anxiety. - -The whole camp was sunk in slumber, but still Paùna glided about the -battlefield in the moonlight. Sometimes she would utter a low cry: -“Tannasse!”--and often a groan would be heard in answer, but she -always shook her head sadly, after bending to give the sufferer a -drink. The dawn was beginning to break, and the moon to pale, when she -suddenly saw something glitter on the ground, and drawing near, found a -half-stripped, dead man lying there, on whose hand shone a little ring. -And the hand had grasped something that the man wore about his neck, so -firmly, that the plunderers had plainly given up trying to force the -fingers open. Paùna knew her own ring again, and with a loud cry of -“Tannasse!” she sank down beside the body, whose face was so covered -with blood that it was scarcely recognisable. In a few moments Paùna -came to herself again, and began to wash the beloved face. She saw, -with fast-flowing tears, that both eyes and nose were gashed through -by a terrible stroke, but she saw also that the blood gushed out again -as she wiped it away. Now she was sure that her beloved was not dead, -and she hastened to moisten his lips, and to bind up his wound with her -kerchief. Then he began to sigh, and when he heard his name called, -to feel about with his hand. Presently it touched Paùna’s face, and -lingered long upon it. - -“My Paùna!” he murmured almost inaudibly. “Let me die--I am blind--I am -of no more use on earth!” - -“Nay, nay!” cried Paùna, “thou art my beloved, and, God willing, shalt -be my husband soon. Only be still now, be still!” - -Many long weeks had passed since that morning--weeks during which Paùna -had watched day and night by Tannas’s bed and nursed him untiringly. -And now, one day, two wanderers were seen coming along the road into -the village--a blind man in a soldier’s cloak, with the cross of honour -upon his breast, and a maiden, who led him carefully along, and said to -the passers-by, with a joyful smile: “This is my bridegroom. He is a -hero! See the cross upon his breast!” - -“And upon his face!” rejoined Tannas, with a sigh. - -Never had such a crowded wedding been seen before. People streamed from -far and near, to pity the beautiful Paùna at the side of the blind man. -But she smiled at every one, and said: “I am proud now. I have a hero -for my husband; and, thank God, I am strong and can work for both.” - -The mountain that had been seen on fire was from that day called -_Piatra Arsa_ (“the burnt rock”), for both shepherds and hunters bore -witness that on that spot they had found the rock all blackened and -charred. - - - - -IX - -RÎUL DOAMNEI - -(“THE RIVER OF THE PRINCESS”) - -[Illustration] - - -Not far from the pretty little mountain-town of Câmpa Lungo, a clear, -cool stream winds along, called _Rîul Doamnei_--“the river of the -Princess.” This stream washes down gold along its bed, sometimes a bit -half the size of one’s nail; and it was a custom in times gone by that -all the gold found there should belong to the Princess, the wife of the -ruler of the land. And this is the reason why:-- - -There was once a great famine in the land of Roumania, such a famine as -had never been known in the memory of man. First the locusts had come -into the land, in such swarms that the sun was darkened, and wherever -they settled they devastated everything, so that in a few minutes the -fairest field of corn would be left bald as a threshing-floor, and the -trees, stripped of every leaf, stretched out their naked boughs against -the summer sky, beneath whose cloudless blue the heat grew ever greater -and greater, so that even at night there was no longer a breath of -coolness in the air. As soon as all things around were devoured, the -cloud of locusts would arise, only to settle instantly again upon the -next green patch. And so it went on unceasingly; and in those days folk -were not so clever as they are now, when they cover the great stretches -of land where the insects have settled, with petroleum, and set it all -on fire. Nor were there then any cannon with which they could shoot -into the swarm of flying locusts, as they do now, and so sometimes -contrive to scatter them. - -After the locusts came the Poles from the North, the Hungarians from -the West, and the Turks from the South, and fell upon the land, and -by them all the houses were burnt and the cattle stolen away. At last -these foes, too, quitted the country, but they left behind them fever -and pestilence, both among man and beast. - -Men went about with blackened lips, and grievous sores on their bodies. -The cattle perished together in heaps on the barren fields, where not a -single blade of grass was standing. Only the dogs and the ravens were -in good case; they tore the flesh from the bones of the dead creatures, -and for miles around nothing was to be seen but white bones with red -flesh hanging to them, and millions of flies, that shone with gorgeous -prismatic colours, settling upon them. - -The air quivered with heat, and pestilential odours spread far over the -land, so that men were stricken as with a plague, and died in a few -hours. - -Complaints were heard no longer, for dull despair had reduced all men -to silence; and when the starving people tore one another to pieces, no -one even told of it. - -The bells rang no more; there was no keeping Sundays or holidays, nor -was there any work done, for no one had any oxen for the ploughing, or -any seeds to sow. - -Men crept about like ghosts, with their bones staring through the skin, -their lips drawn back so that the teeth lay bare, and only a few rags -upon their bodies. There was hardly any one found to bury the dead, and -many remained lying, like the cattle, upon the fields. - -The beautiful Princess Irina felt her heart breaking for pity. She had -given away all her jewels for the poor; she had spent her last coin to -buy cattle for the peasants, but they had all been slain by the plague -as soon as purchased. She had fed the hungry, till she had scarcely -enough left to feed her own four little children. She stood at her -window wringing her hands in despair, and prayed thus: - -“O good God! hast Thou, then, quite forsaken me? Wilt Thou bring our -poor land to destruction? Have we sinned yet more, that we must endure -such searchings-out of Thy wrath?” - -Then a soft, cool breath stole in, bearing a perfume as from the most -beautiful of gardens, and a silvery voice spoke: - -“Help shall arise for thee out of a river. Only seek.” - -Then she went to the Prince, her husband, and to her children, and bade -them farewell, promising soon to return, and saying she now knew where -to seek for that which should free them all from their misery. She -spoke with such cheerful assurance that it brought trust and hope to -every man, for she never told them that she did not even know what she -was to seek. - -Then, through the burning summer heat, she began a weary pilgrimage -toward the rivers. Sometimes she would still chance upon a poor, -starved little horse, that would carry her a short distance, and then -fall down dead, even beneath her light weight. She went up the _Olto_ -river, the _Gin_, the _Buzlu_, the _Sereth_, all the rivers, both great -and small. They flowed but meagrely over their stony beds, and those -once mighty waters scarcely whispered as they went, they that of old -were wont to rush and roar. - -“Merciful God!” prayed the Princess, “let but a little cloud appear -when I have found the river that is to help us!” But there arose -no cloud. She was wandering for a second time up the banks of the -_Argesch_, and was just about to turn sadly back, when she caught sight -of the mouth of a little stream that she had not noticed before. She -turned her steps hesitatingly in that direction, her heart growing -heavier and heavier as she saw the stream grow smaller and more -insignificant. - -Wearied by her hard journey over the stones, she stood still a moment -and sighed: “I can find nothing, nothing at all, and perchance my -children are starving and dying! Perhaps my thought was but a foolish -one--a cobweb of the brain, a lying fancy!” Even as she spoke a shadow -seemed to fall upon her. She thought it was only caused by the tears -which for the first time were filling her large, wan eyes. She wiped -them off. Nay, there was indeed a shadow lying over the treeless waste; -and when she raised her eyes, lo! the sun had hidden itself behind a -tiny cloud, that yet was growing slowly larger. - -Irina began to tremble for joy, that yet was mingled with dread. Had -God heard her, or was it only another mistake? “Dear God,” she prayed -again, “if this be the river, suffer the cloud to become larger and -the rain to fall, for rain alone would be a blessing, and a great help -to us in our need.” She went on a little--yes, the cloud was growing -larger; she hurried forward, she ran, till she grew too weak to go -farther; then a few great, heavy drops began to fall. She drank them -in, with lips and eyes, with hands and hair. Now a light patter and -plashing began round about her, and all at once a perfect waterspout -broke forth. She struggled on in the wet loam of the river-bed as well -as she could, till the stream began to swell, and dashed by in a brown, -foaming flood, like a broad river. Sometimes she was forced to stand -still and seek for her path, but yet she went on and on, for fear the -rain should leave off. It rained all day and all night. The Princess -was so wet that a stream flowed from her garments. But she wrung them -out, girt them up higher, and still went on, for one whole day and -night longer. Now she had reached the mountains, and often fell to the -ground from exhaustion after her long journey. At last she lay down -upon the river-bank and fell asleep, while the rain streamed down upon -her, and the river rose higher and higher, as though it would have -snatched her down and floated her away. - -She awoke trembling with cold. There stood the gleaming sun, looking -as fresh in the bright morning air as if he had had a bath himself. -And behold! the river was no longer brown, but clear and blue as the -air, and at the bottom of the water something shone and glittered like -the sunbeams themselves. Irina again girt up her garments and waded -in--she must see what it was that shone with so wondrous a gleam. And -lo! it was pure gold. She fell on her knees, there in the stream, and -gave God thanks, aloud and earnestly. Gold! gold! Now she could help! -She went carefully on through the water and gathered up the golden -grains and little fragments, filling her mantle with them, till the -burden was almost too heavy for her. And now she hurried home with her -treasure, and poured it out before her husband. Her children were yet -alive, though weak and sorely exhausted; and they scarcely knew her -again, she was so emaciated and sunburnt. Yet now messengers went forth -into distant lands and bought corn, maize and hay, seeds and cattle; -and the river never grew weary of giving till the famine was at an end, -and laughing green, and sleek cattle, covered the Roumanian meadows -once more. And the thankful people called the river _Rîul Doamnei_, and -no one was to touch any of the gold therein, to possess it, save the -Princess of the land. - -But the Princesses who came after this one, no doubt made a less good -use of their riches, for the river has become more niggardly, and the -gold that the peasants still find in it now and then, is saved up for -exhibition in the State Museum. - -[Illustration: And behold! the river was no longer brown, but clean and -blue as the air.] - - - - -X - -THE CAVE OF JALOMITZA - -[Illustration] - - -In crossing the pass between the peaks of Vîrful cu Dor and Furnica, on -the other side of the Bucegi, you come upon the Jalomitza river. One of -the springs which feed it rises hard by, in a vast stalactite cave, at -the entrance of which stands a small cloister. From time immemorial it -has always been said that there is no ending to this cave, and that a -man who once went in there has never been seen again to this day. - -The cave was once inhabited by a terrible enchanter, of whom it was -told that he carried off all the fairest maidens round about--carried -them off out of the fields, from their parents’ cottages, yes, even -from before the marriage-altar. They all followed him, without -resistance, but no one ever saw them more. Many a bold youth had sworn -to go and free them, and had even marched bravely into the cave and -called the enchanter by name: “Bucur! Bucur!” but not one had ever -caught a glimpse either of Bucur or of the maidens. - -But in the pretty village of Rucar, at the foot of the Bucegi, there -dwelt a beautiful maiden, named Jalomitza, who had been rash enough to -say that she engaged never to follow the enchanter, no matter in what -shape he might appear before her, or with what promises he might try to -entice her. - -“And though he should even drag me into his cave,” she said, “I would -still get forth again.” - -This was a very daring speech, and the old folks shook their heads at -it, and shrugged their shoulders, saying: “If he were really to come, -she would yet go with him gladly, just like all the others.” - -A short time passed, during which no one appeared, and nothing -happened, to try the young girl’s courage. She was a joy for all men -to look upon, with her red cheeks, her fresh, cool lips, her waving -auburn hair, and her great blue eyes. Her nose was delicately cut, with -transparent nostrils, only the tip had just a little impudent, upward -turn. Her throat rose snow-white from her richly embroidered shift, and -upon her forehead, temples, and neck the pretty reddish locks curled in -wild abundance, escaping from the plaits and rebelliously defying all -the efforts of the comb. When Jalomitza loosened her plaits she was as -though clothed from head to foot in a golden mantle, of which she could -not see the half in her little mirror when she was decking herself on a -Sunday for the _Hora_. - -There was one in the village who was for ever running after her, to the -well, in the fields, and at the dance. But she did not care to have -much to do with poor Coman, and yet he was a fine lad, and rich. He -owned broad meadows, with horses, cows, buffaloes, and sheep, and wore -a fine, embroidered white leather jerkin, and a long white cloak lined -with red, and richly adorned with gold and coloured threads. Many a -maiden looked round after Coman, but Jalomitza never did. She thought -only of the enchanter Bucur, and of how she would strive with him and -avenge all the poor maidens who had fallen into his clutches. - -One beautiful Sunday afternoon, when the heated dancers were standing -still to rest for a moment, there was heard close by the sweetest sound -of flute-playing--so sweet that every heart in that gay young throng -beat high with delight. All turned curiously to see who the player was, -and there stood a handsome young shepherd, leaning against a tree, with -his feet crossed, as quietly as though he had been there for ever--and -yet no one had seen him come, and no one knew him. He played on and -on, as if he were alone in the world; only once he raised his eyes and -looked at Jalomitza, who had drawn quite near, and was listening to -those heavenly melodies with parted lips and quivering nostrils. - -After a while he looked at her again, and presently a third time. - -Then Coman whispered to her from behind: “Come away, Jalomitza; yon is -an impudent fellow!” - -An impatient motion of the girl’s shoulders and elbows was the only -reply. - -“Jalomitza!” whispered the jealous lover once more, “art thou not -ashamed to let thyself be stared at thus?” - -Again she made no answer, but turned her back upon him. - -“Jalomitza, I tell thee, yon shepherd is no other than Bucur, the -enchanter!” - -Just at that moment the shepherd, without leaving off his playing, -nodded his head, and Jalomitza’s heart turned cold and her throat dry. - -“What dost thou know about it?” she rejoined defiantly, yet her voice -trembled a little. - -“I know it, I can feel it! I feel it because I love thee--and because I -love thee I see, too, that he has taken thy fancy, and that thou wilt -fall a prey to him, as all the others have.” - -“I! Never--I swear it!” cried Jalomitza, and turned deadly pale. - -“Here is my flute; do thou play for us a while,” the shepherd now -called out, handing his flute to Coman. - -Without knowing what he did, Coman grasped the flute and began to play, -and he played more beautifully than he had ever done in his life; but -he presently perceived, to his horror, that he could not leave off. He -improvised new _Horas_, such as he had never heard before--_Brius_, -_Kindias_, he played them all, and could see, as he did so, that the -stranger was always dancing with Jalomitza. Then he began to play a -_Doina_, and the air was so passing sad that tears stood in all the -women’s eyes, and Jalomitza implored him to stop. But he played on and -on, looking round with terror in his glance, for the flute would not -be silent. Evening closed in; the people, in twos and threes, began -to turn homewards, and still Coman blew upon the flute, and Jalomitza -stood beside him as though spell-bound. The strange shepherd had -disappeared. - -“Leave off, Coman,” said she; “thou art breaking my heart. Thou -knowest I do not love thee; but I have sworn to thee never to belong to -that other. Leave off, Coman; be sensible!” - -But Coman played on, now merrily, as though he would have laughed, -and now in so sad and melting a strain, that the nightingale made -answer from the depths of the dewy valley. Nearer and nearer drew the -nightingale; Jalomitza could see it in the moonlight, how it came and -settled above Coman’s head, and sang with the flute. Then it flew off, -still uttering its sweet, entrancing note, and Jalomitza followed it -the whole night through, without knowing whither she went. Coman too, -with his flute, followed the wonderful bird through the dewy valley, -along by the edge of the stream. - -[Illustration: Jalomitza followed it the whole night through, without -knowing whither she went.] - -Morning broke, and Jalomitza smote her hands upon her head in terror: -“Where am I? I am far away from home, and this place is strange to me. -Coman, where are we? I am affrighted! That bird was Bucur!” - -Coman gave no answer, but only played a merry dance. Then a horse came -galloping towards them over the meadow, and circled about the maiden, -offering her his back to mount, and rubbing his head against her. - -“Ah me!” she cried, “I know the dread one again! If I were but a bird -and could flee away!” - -She had scarcely said this before she was flying away in the shape of a -dove, far away into the dewy morning. - -But thereupon the horse was changed into a hawk, that shot down upon -her from a giddy height, and bore her away in his talons toward the -mountains. - -“Ah, would I were a flower down in the meadow!” thought the terrified -maiden; and the next instant she was growing beside the stream, a blue -forget-me-not; but then the hawk became a butterfly, and circled about -the flower, settling upon it, and swinging with it to and fro. - -“Oh, were I rather a trout in the stream!” thought Jalomitza; and in a -moment she became a trout, but the butterfly turned into a net, caught -her, and lifted her up into the air, till she was like to die. - -“I would I were a lizard!” thought the poor maid as she lay dying in -the net; and lo! in the twinkling of an eye she was gliding as quick -as thought among the grass and flowers, and fancying she was hidden -beneath every stone and leaf. But from under the nearest stone a snake -crawled forth, and held her spell-bound beneath his dreadful eyes, so -that she could not move. They tarried a long while thus, and the little -lizard’s heart beat to bursting against her sides. - -“Would I had become a nun! I should have been safe in the cloister!” -she thought; and in a moment the lofty dome of a church rose above her -head, she saw tapers burning, and heard the voices of many hundreds of -nuns re-echoing in a mighty wave of song. Jalomitza knelt, in the guise -of a nun, before the picture of one of the saints; her heart was still -throbbing with fear, and she rejoiced to think that she was hidden in -this sanctuary. She raised her eyes in thanksgiving to the picture -above her--and behold! Bucur’s eyes were gazing at her from out its -face, and cast such a spell upon her that she could not quit the spot, -even when the church grew empty. Night fell; the eyes began to shine -and glitter, and Jalomitza’s tears fell ceaselessly down on the stones -where she knelt. - -“Ah me!” she cried, “even in this holy place I find no rest from thee! -Would I were a cloud!” As she spoke the vaulted roof above her changed -to the blue vault of heaven, and she was floating as a cloud through -its boundless heights. But her persecutor turned into the wind, and -hunted her from south to north, and from east to west, over the whole -earth. - -“I had better have been a grain of sand,” said the little cloud to -itself at last. Then it sank to earth, and fell, in the form of a -tiny grain of golden sand, into the _Rîul Doamnei_. But Bucur became -a peasant, wading with naked feet in the river to seek for gold, and -he fished up the little grain of sand out of the depths. It slipped -hastily through his fingers, and turned into a doe, that fled away -toward the woodland thickets. But before the doe could reach the -shelter of the forest, Bucur became an eagle, shot down upon her from -above, and once more bore her off in his talons toward his eyrie in -the Bucegi Mountain. Hardly had he loosed his grasp of her before she -fell, as a dewdrop, into the cup of a gentian blossom. But he became a -sunbeam, and glanced down upon her to drink her up. Then at last, in -the shape of a wild goat, she dashed, without knowing whither she went, -straight towards his cave. Laughing, he pursued her in the guise of a -hunter, and murmured: “I have thee now.” She ran into the cave, ever -deeper and deeper, and on a sudden perceived that all the stones round -about were beautiful maidens, from whose eyes tears dropped unceasingly -down. - -“Oh, flee, flee from hence!” a hundred voices called to her. “Thou -unhappy maid! If once he kisses thee, thou wilt turn to stone like us!” - -At that moment an arrow flew through the whole length of the cave, and -struck the little goat as she fled. In deadly anguish she cried: “Oh, -would I were a stream! then I could flow away from him.” Instantly she -felt herself rushing out of the cave as a foaming mountain torrent; -the enchanter uttered a terrible curse, turned into rock, and caught -in his arms the little stream, that still kept on ever escaping him. -Just then Coman reached the cave, and recognising his Jalomitza by her -voice, as she uttered a heartrending cry of “Coman, Coman!” he gathered -up all his remaining strength, and hurled his flute against the rock, -in the outlines of which he could discern Bucur’s cruel grin. And now -the spell was broken. Bucur could no more change his shape again than -Jalomitza hers, and so she flows on to this day, away over his stony, -immovable arms. But Coman built a little church before the cave, and -became a monk, dwelling there in holiness, and gazing upon his fair -beloved, unto his life’s end. - - - - -XI - -THE NIXIES’ CLEFT - -[Illustration] - - -Not far from the little village of Dietenhain, in Saxony, there stands, -on the bank of the Zschopau river, where it winds through the forest, a -great rock full of narrow clefts. In the days of long ago, when fairies -and spirits were still visible to the eyes of Sunday-children,[7] -there dwelt in a cleft of this rock the King of the Nixies, who -held sway over all the water-folk of the Zschopau and its tributary -rivers. No one could have told, looking by day at the outside of that -rugged cliff, and at the narrow entrance of the Nixies’ dwelling, how -beautiful it was when night fell, and the moonbeams lit up the broad -sweep of the river and crept in among the dusky trees upon its banks. -For then the belated fisherman might see how all the face of the cliff -seemed to melt away like a dream, and how a stately castle, built of -shining crystal, arose in its place. A soft, unearthly light shone -through the walls, so that one could look from end to end of the vast -halls and galleries, and see how the doors and windows were cut each -from a single opal, and how the whole building was hung with garlands -of lotus-flowers and water-lilies. Light figures, clad in misty -draperies, moved airily to and fro, and sounds of such exquisite music -rang out from the place, that the very fishes rose to the surface of -the river to listen, and the passing boatmen hung upon their oars as if -spell-bound. But the castle was never to be seen if crowds of people -set out from home on purpose to gaze at it; and always with the first -ray of sunlight in the morning, it vanished like a summer cloud, the -music was silenced, and the little fishes dived to the bottom of the -river again. - -Now, it was small wonder that there was sometimes music and dancing in -the Nixie’s castle, for he had three beautiful daughters, and doubtless -they often invited their friends from the neighbouring streams and -caves to the palace, that they might disport themselves together. Yet -it seemed that this did not satisfy the beautiful Nixies, but that -they still pined for the company of mortal men, as we, too, must needs -ever hanker after all that lies out of our reach and is fraught with -danger. So the Nix-maidens now and then had leave, when the new moon -rose at a favourable time, to go to the village dances at Dietenhain, -and liked them better than the splendours of their own crystal palace. -And they, too, were the despair of all the village youths, and the envy -of all the village beauties, for what mortal maidens could be compared -to these, with their strange, unearthly loveliness? Their delicate -features were as though moulded in wax; their cheeks were as white and -glistening as the foam on their own river, and, despite all the heat -and agitation of the dance, remained ever as pure, as pale, and as cold -as ice. Only their eyes shone with a warmer light, that would sometimes -deepen to the glow of passion when they met the burning glances of -their partners in the dance. But kind and sweet as they might show -themselves to these partners, none of them ever heard a word pass the -Nixies’ lips. Their flaxen tresses, fair to whiteness, were decked -with trailing wreaths of water-plants, and their veils and draperies -were woven of mist, that glistened, as they moved, with the faintest -rainbow hues. A broad girdle of cunningly plaited rushes confined these -draperies at the waist, and a necklace of many rows of crystal dewdrops -sparkled on their bosoms. From this chain hung a fresh-water lily, that -was as good as a watch to the fairy sisters, for as soon as they saw -their lilies fading, they knew that the first ray of sunlight was at -hand, and vanished like a dream from the dancers’ midst. Yet sometimes -they would suffer a favoured partner to bear them company for a little -way through the forest, but as they neared the river-bank, their gentle -yet warning glances and gestures forbade the eager lovers to pursue -them farther. And though many a heart was heavy for their sake, yet -none ever dared disobey their warnings or rouse their displeasure, -either among the youths who loved them, or the maidens whose loves they -had crossed; for it was known that it is an ill thing to anger the -water-folk, and that they bid their rivers take a human life for every -slight that is put upon them. - -So a hundred summers passed by; men were born, and grew old, and died -in the village, but the Nixies’ beauty blossomed each year anew, and -the lips that had kissed the grandfather, now pressed the same warm -kisses on the mouths of father and son, and the kisses never grew -colder. - -But one day there came back from the wars to Dietenhain a young -soldier, the finest lad and the most stalwart the village had ever -seen. All the maidens strove to win his favour, but among them all -he had eyes for one alone--Katrine, the miller’s daughter--Katrine, -the boldest, proudest girl in the country-side; and the bravest, too. -Had she not saved a child from drowning that had fallen into the -mill-stream, and did she not drive away the wolf that had crept from -the forest and prowled around the village, one winter’s day, when all -the men were from home? Nay, Katrine was afraid of nothing--handsome, -too, she was; but soldier Veit maintained that he cared more for a -stout heart and a strong arm than for beauty, even in a woman. But -perhaps Veit scarcely knew his own mind on this subject. - -To be sure, nothing had yet been said of betrothal, for Veit had only -been home a month; but he was always willing to carry the neighbours’ -sacks of corn to be ground, and would stay leaning over the mill-bridge -and talking to Katrine by the hour, till her mother said she had need -of one of the friendly forest-dwarfs to come and finish her neglected -work for her. But her father began to look askance at Veit, and said -soldiers were wont to make too light of home-work, and of many other -things. - -Now a great holiday fell about this time, and there was to be a fine -dance in the village on that evening. Mysterious whispers began to -creep about among the lads and maidens. “The moon is in its first -quarter--who knows? perhaps the Nixies will be seen at the dance,” they -said; “it is many months since they were last among us.” - -And one timid maiden cried, “Oh, I pray not! There is no pleasure -in the dance for me when I know they are by, the silent, uncanny -creatures!” - -“Little care I for that,” rejoined Katrine, who was standing near; -“’tis for another cause I would wish them away. They say many a heart -has been broken in the village, ay, through these hundred years and -more, for the sake of the vain, misty things. Now ’tis enough! Let not -one of them touch aught that concerns me!” - -The maidens shrank back in terror. “Hush, hush, Katrine!” they cried; -“how canst thou dare speak thus--thou who dwellest by the water-side, -too? Who can tell what may befall?” - -Katrine laughed scornfully, all the more so, no doubt, that Veit had -just joined the group, and was listening with a mocking air. - -“To be sure,” he said, “Katrine is not afraid, I’ll be bound; and why -should she be? I, for one, do not believe in these Nixies and their -spells; there is not a Nixie of them all can lay a spell on me!” - -Now it was the men’s turn to murmur. “’Tis the ignorant who boast,” -said an old white-haired fellow, who leaned, smoking his pipe, against -the tavern door. “Thou art a foolish fellow, Veit. There is many a -one among us could speak of the Nixies’ spells. Dost thou mind poor -Heinrich, who wanders about as if he were daft and speaks to no one? -Hast thou marked him sitting alone in a corner of the ale-house at -night? He is a living proof that the Nixies are no dream. To be sure, -he has not taken the matter aright. A kiss and a laugh--that is the way -to use with them.” - -“They may get the laugh from me, but never a kiss,” rejoined Veit, -angered at the old man’s reproof; and he exchanged a glance with -Katrine, who turned away with an unwonted blush upon her cheek. - -The dance was at its height. Lanterns, fastened with garlands of -flowers, hung from the trees that surrounded the village-green, but -their light was not needed, for the rays of the young moon flooded the -dancing-space with their silvery radiance. Veit leaned against a tree; -he was hot from the dance, and glad to rest as he waited for his turn -to lead Katrine out. All at once he felt a cool breeze fan his cheek, -and yet no wind stirred the branches above him. This was as the cool, -moist breath of a fountain. He turned his head, for he fancied he -caught a glimpse of something glistening in the shadow behind him. Yes, -indeed, there was some one standing by him, a misty form, whose white -draperies shone like a ray of moonlight among the trees. And then a -pair of eyes were raised to his--eyes as deep, and yet transparent, as -the waters of some mountain lake, eyes that shone, beneath the masses -of pale hair, as the lake shines when the stars are mirrored in it. And -that gaze drank up Veit’s very soul, and with it the memory of Katrine, -and of all his promises and all his boasts. In vain Katrine waited for -her partner, and turned at last in a rage to seek another, hoping by -jealousy to win back her truant lover. In vain! All night long Veit -danced with that misty form on the outskirts of the green, where the -trees throw their deepest shadow. For the Nixies do not willingly -mingle with the throng of mortal youths and maidens. There, too, in -the shadow, Heinrich danced, the clouds all lifted from his brow; and -yet another dancer drew near and clasped the third fairy sister in -his arms. The hours flew by, and the enraptured dancers could hardly -believe that the dawn was breaking, but there, on the necklace of each -of the sisters, hung the water-lily, scarcely whiter than the fair -bosom on which it rested--and the petals of the flower were drooping! -Then suddenly Veit felt the gentle pressure lifted from his arm, and -even as he looked round, the glistening forms were already disappearing -among the dark pine-stems. He hastened after them, his comrades -at his heels, but not all their entreaties could stay the Nixies’ -fast-fleeting steps; and when their partners reached the edge of the -forest, where it meets the lush, green river-meadows, the rising mists -of morning had already swallowed up those fairy beings, that seemed, -indeed, born of the mists themselves. - -Heinrich sighed heavily, and wandered away by himself down another path -that led to the river-side; and the third youth, a merry, reckless -fellow, sauntered off with a careless laugh; but Veit made an angry -gesture, and exclaimed as he turned his steps homeward: “I shall catch -them yet; it is not thus she shall baulk me.” - -But many a time was Veit doomed to disappointment. True, the Nixies -returned, and oftener than was their wont; for now, whenever the moon -shone, and the lads and maidens danced on the green in their spare -moments, even though it might be but of a work-day evening, the white -sisters crept like the moonbeams through the trees, seeking out always -the same partners. And between times Heinrich grew more and more -melancholy, and Veit more forgetful of his old love for Katrine, and -more reckless, withal, in his speech. The old folk in the village shook -their heads ever more gravely, and whispered ancient tales of boatmen -who had been drawn down into the deep water by the Nixies’ rock. “Veit -had better guard his tongue, and not try to blind their eyes with his -foolish boasts, now that he was plainly more under the spell than any -man of them all.” What would they have said had they known that the -white sisters, too, had warnings whispered to them by the friendly folk -who came to the crystal palace? “It was ill for Nixies ever to seek -out the same man among mortals, and, indeed, to love the haunts of any -mortals over-much.” Perhaps these speeches were prompted by jealousy as -much in the crystal palace as they might have been in the village hut, -but however this may be, the Nix-maidens heeded them not, and seemed, -indeed, more eager than ever before to join the dances on the green. - -Now if Veit forgot, Katrine never did; and her anger against the -interlopers grew hotter and more cruel as her own pain and heartache -grew deeper. She sat at home and brooded over thoughts of revenge, and -she spoke with all the wise elders of the village who could tell her -anything of the traditions concerning the Nixies. They dreaded being -surprised by the sunlight--that was plain. But why? No one had ever yet -had the courage to gainsay them, or try to hold them back and find out -the truth. Love, however, gives courage, and Karl, the third partner -whom the fairy sisters sought out, had sworn he loved Katrine, and -only went with the Nix-maidens because Katrine slighted him. True, -Katrine had given her heart to Veit, but the longing for revenge, and -the desire to win back her lost love at any cost, had grown so strong -in her that there was nothing she would not do to gain her end. So it -was Karl now who talked with Katrine on the mill-bridge, and promised, -if her love was to be his reward, to carry out the plot they made -together. Then the cunning Karl set about fanning the flame that was -already raging in Veit’s veins, and consuming the life of poor, foolish -Heinrich. How often, Karl insinuated, had they not been on the point -of winning the love of the wayward Nix-maidens, when the first rays -of dawn had interrupted them! Were they always to be cheated thus? -What mystery was there about these Nixies, that they would not let -themselves be followed, or persuaded to outstay the rising of the sun? -Nay, they had not managed wisely! At the next dance, let them lead the -fairy sisters away, while the night was yet dark, to the deepest part -of the forest, where no light of dawn could penetrate, and try if thus -the spell might not be broken, and the love of these evasive maidens -won. - -He spoke to willing ears. Had not Veit said long ago that he would -be master of his fairy partner at last? The plan was a good one. Why -had it never been thought of before? It must be, Veit concluded, the -spell that the wilful creature had laid upon him that had so dulled -his mind! Heinrich, too, needed no pressing; he was clean daft for -love, and hardly knew what he did any longer. So the plan was laid, -and woe betide the Nixies when the time for the next dance arrived. -Katrine watched for it now with anxious eyes, and her heart throbbed -with bitter satisfaction when at last she saw those rainbow draperies -glisten once more in the moonlight beneath the trees. But they were -not long to be seen. The Nixies had suffered their fancy to ensnare -them too far, and when the eager lovers spoke of a quiet space amid -distant forest trees where they could dance and dally undisturbed, -they consented only too easily to follow them thither. No one knew -how the hours sped by in that quiet and dusky spot. Once, as they lay -resting upon the grass, Karl contrived with cunning hand to unfasten -the lilies from the crystal chains, and the flowers that might have -warned the Nixies from their fate withered unheeded upon the moss. -They were missed too late. Too late the fairy sisters grasped at their -chains and sought with anxious eyes for their guardian lilies. When -they espied them, they were already faded and dying. At that sight a -moan, the only sound that mortal ears had ever heard from the Nixies’ -lips, escaped the ill-fated sisters. They fled, as the spray of the -fountain flies before the wind, through the forest-glades; but even as -they reached the river-meadow, a ray of sunlight greeted them upon its -verge--sunlight, that gladdens the heart of man, but to them was the -shaft of death. No friendly mist spread forth a sheltering veil over -the meadow; and as they felt the warmth of those piercing rays, they -melted as wax before the fire, as foam upon the water. In a moment the -fairy sisters were gone, and in their stead three slender rivulets, -whose foamy whiteness was stained with a faint streak of red, wound -their way with a complaining murmur through the green meadow, towards -the river and the great rock. They disappeared among its hollows, and -he who doubts the tale need but seek out the river-bank by Dietenhain, -and he will find the three streamlets, and the spot that is still -called the “Nixies’ cleft.” - -But the spell that the fairy sisters had laid upon two human hearts -was not to be broken thus. From that time Heinrich could find no -rest from his remorse and sorrow, so that they drove him at last to -seek his death in the fatal river. Veit, too, flying in horror from -the village, was drowned in crossing the Elbe, by the great rock at -Strehla, where it is said that the Nixies yearly require the sacrifice -of one human life. Only the reckless Karl and the bold Katrine seem to -have gone scot-free. They married after a while, and lived on beside -the mill-stream without fear of the Nixies; nor can I learn that the -water-folk ever succeeded in doing them any harm. - - - - -XII - -THE FLYING CASTLE - -[Illustration] - - -Beside the stream of Gerlach, and at the foot of the Glockenberg, in -the Hartz Mountains, there is a deep pit, and here--so the country-folk -tell--there once stood a mighty castle, that was inhabited, not by -knights or earls, but by a wicked woman, who was known only as the -“Lady of the Castle.” She was learned in all manner of evil lore, and -cast spells upon many of the country-people and their belongings, -so that she was feared and hated throughout the district. But her -favourite pastime was to capture the village maidens as they passed -along the road below, and shut them up in the castle, where she made -them work for her, nor ever let them out again as long as they lived. -All about the woods and hedges her spies and serving-men were hidden, -ready to pounce on any luckless girl whose business obliged her to -cross that dangerous valley. - -One might suppose that the whole country-side would have risen in -arms against this hateful tyrant. But her dread power of working -spells and her authority as lady of all the surrounding lands made -the people afraid to rebel. At last they could bear it no longer, -however, and they determined to form a strong band, and march against -the castle, with their priest at their head, carrying a crucifix, to -be their defence against the spells and curses of the witch. When the -little army reached the castle they found the great gates closed, the -drawbridge up, and the walls manned by a host of grinning dwarfs, more -like apes than men, who swarmed about the battlements with threatening -gestures. This sight struck terror to the hearts of the rescuers, but -the priest encouraged them by the assurance that, if every man did but -cross himself faithfully, there could no danger befall him from any -of these fiendish apparitions. However, as the castle could not be -surprised, they determined to surround and keep watch about it that -night, till they could bring ladders and storm it on the following day. -So sentry-fires were lighted, and preparations made for a camp, but -not one of the besiegers could get to sleep that night. And behold! -at midnight, as they sat round their fires, watching the dark, silent -fortress with anxious eyes, they saw three tongues of blue flame shoot -up from the topmost tower, and suddenly there appeared upon it the Lady -of the Castle, her witch’s staff in her hand. Her tall form, veiled in -black, stood out in dusky outline against the lurid blue light; and -as she stood there, she waved her wand towards the four corners of -heaven, and uttered some words in an unknown tongue. Immediately the -ground trembled, the light of the stars was darkened, a fearful roar -and turmoil were heard, and with a rending sound, as though the earth -were opening beneath it, the great castle was torn from its foundations -and carried by an invisible hand through the air, till it reached the -top of a neighbouring mountain, where it settled like some monster -bird. But as it went the voice of the witch was heard crying aloud: “If -ye dare to disturb me again in my dwelling, I will take your houses -too, and carry them through the air, as I do this my castle--but into -the lake yonder will I cast them down.” The terror-stricken besiegers -hardly dared follow the flight of the castle with their eyes, but there -it was the next morning, and for many days to come, standing upon the -mountain far above them. - -Now there was no more question of rescuing the maidens by force, and -no one, you may be sure, ever set foot on that mountain if he could -help it. But the witch’s servants still haunted the woodland paths, and -bore off many a hapless girl into a captivity, which now seemed more -terrible than ever, far away on yon lonely hill-top. - -But as the years went on, there grew up in the village a brave and -pious maiden whom her parents had dedicated from childhood to the holy -St. Anthony, the patron saint of the family. For it was good, they -thought, to be under the protection of a saint, when there was so much -evil dwelling near at hand, and so much danger to be feared. The maiden -was named Antonia, and got her living as a shepherdess. This often led -her into lonely places among the woods and meadows at the foot of the -dreaded mountain, but she was never afraid, and always escaped being -caught, though many a maid she knew was taken almost from her side. -Sometimes she would even lead her sheep up the slopes of the mountain -itself, for every one shunned those pastures, so that they were rich -and untrodden. And as she got nearer to the castle, and looked up -at its dark, frowning walls, she mused more and more upon the poor -creatures shut up within it, and how they might be helped to escape. -At last the matter got such hold upon her mind that she dreamed of it -at night, and her dreams took clearer and clearer shape, until this is -what she dreamed. She saw a garden filled with shrubs and flowers, such -as she had never known before; dark walls closed it in on every side, -but within all was bright and blooming. Yet there was a taint in the -scent of the blossoms, and an unwholesome heaviness filled the air. She -herself lay upon a mossy bank, and above her hung boughs covered with -trails of purple blossom. She tried to reach them, but could not move -a limb. Then a dreadful sense of terror came over her, and she called -aloud upon St. Anthony, and at once the heavy air cleared, and the -weight was lifted from her limbs; and as she rose, cheerful and glad -once more, a voice sounded among the trees: “From within the castle -help must come--from within.” - -The sound of the voice woke her, and there she lay in her own bed at -home, and wondered. “From within.” Did that mean that she must give -herself up into captivity? The more she thought of it, the more she was -sure it must be so; but she dared ask counsel of no one, for she knew -her parents would never consent to her casting herself into the lion’s -jaws. - -And there was one other, too, in the village, who would never suffer it -either. She thought of him, and sighed; yet now she thought far oftener -of her captive sisters even than of him, and his glance and his smile -made her sad instead of merry. - -The day came--she had felt it coming for long--when she could resist -the call no more: the dark walls of the castle drew her as by an -irresistible fascination; and when it was time to lead her sheep -homeward at evening, she gave them into the charge of another maiden -who was going that way, and saying she had lost her staff upon the hill -and must turn back to seek it, she sprang up the mountain-slopes. - -To her surprise, no one spoke to her, no armed figures dashed out from -among the bushes to seize her, but she was allowed to go on unharmed, -right up to the castle. She had never been so far before, and when -she reached the great gates, they looked so dark and frowning in the -twilight, and the whole place so still and lonely, that for the first -time her heart sank, and she almost turned back. But just then the -vesper-bell sounded from the valley below, and it seemed to put heart -into her, and to remind her that her saintly protector was just as near -as in the valley. She advanced towards the gate, and was raising her -staff to knock upon it, when it opened silently, and in the dusky porch -she saw a tall figure, veiled in black, and holding a golden key. It -beckoned to her, and with a beating heart Antonia entered, and heard -the great door swing to behind her. - -[Illustration: For the first time her heart sank, and she almost turned -back.] - -As she went forward, the air grew thick and heavy, and she felt the -same sense of deadly faintness that she remembered in her dream steal -over her now. Presently her guide lifted a dark hanging, that covered -one of the doors in the passage they had been following, and they -came out into a lofty hall. Here the darkness had fully closed in, -and the great, misty spaces of the roof were lit by swinging lamps, -that threw out a strong perfume as they burnt. Underneath, all along -the walls, ran long divans, or heaps of cushions, covered with silken -drapery, and above them hung canopies formed of huge flower-heads, -like poppies, whose transparent, blood-red petals waved and fluttered -gently in the upper air, shedding the same drowsy perfume as the lamps. -Upon the divans many maidens lay sleeping, in all sorts of positions, -just as they had sunk down while at work. The faces of some were -familiar to Antonia; these were the girls who had been ravished from -the village since she could remember; and others there were, who had -been taken many years before her birth, and of whom she had but heard. -Before every girl--for they kept their youth unchanged--stood a wide -tapestry-frame, on which, through each weary day, their fingers wove -strange and lovely patterns, in delicate hues of every kind. As long -as daylight lasted, the witch, as Antonia learnt afterwards, kept them -awake by many ingenious means of torture; by unearthly and startling -sounds that broke from the vaults below--by cruel pricks from the magic -needles they worked with--by strokes, too, from her fairy wand, with -which she walked up and down, and which lengthened at her pleasure, -so that none were out of its reach. But even so, though their fingers -might move, their heads were heavy and giddy, and no thought of home, -no stirrings of a desire for freedom, ever arose with enough strength -to give them energy to rebel. - -As she entered the hall, the witch cast off her black veil, and Antonia -beheld the cruel red eyes, the lank jaws, and the grizzled tresses, the -sight of which had first bereft her wretched captives of all their -will and courage. But upon brave little Antonia they failed in their -dreadful effect, and the witch saw it with surprise. “Here we have a -hearty lass indeed,” she jeered; “and truly I might have known it, -since she is the first I have known foolhardy enough to come to these -gates of her own accord. Perhaps she will be able to bear the burden of -the keys.” And bending down, she drew from under an iron table a heavy -ebony casket, bound with silver, and a huge bunch of keys. Both of -these she fastened with chains about Antonia’s shoulder, and the poor -girl almost sank to the ground beneath their terrible weight. The witch -grinned. “I have long been looking for a girl strong enough to carry -these about for me,” she said, “and perhaps they will keep thee quiet. -Now follow me; thy time for slumber is not yet.” - -So all through the night, and for many other nights and days, Antonia -followed her about, staggering beneath her burden, while the witch -visited all the doors and grated windows of the castle, all the -underground cells where she put her few unruly prisoners, or where she -kept her treasures of gold and jewels, and stores of beautiful silks -for the embroideries. Antonia now carried the keys of all these doors, -bound about her in such a way that she herself could not raise a hand -to touch one. - -When the midday sun was hot, all the maidens, and Antonia among them, -were allowed to spend an hour in the garden; and as soon as she entered -it Antonia knew it for the place she had seen in her dreams. There -were the high, dark walls, that matted boughs of ivy, and a poisonous -scarlet creeper, only partly succeeded in hiding. There were the -strange shrubs and nameless purple flowers, and there was to be felt -the heavy, sickly air--she remembered it all so well. The sun struck -through the overhanging boughs with a fierce, burning heat, as though -it were shining through a roof of glass, and no refreshing breezes ever -stirred the leaves, or cooled the brows of the captive maidens. Yet -they never complained; and when, during their short hour of leisure, -Antonia spoke to them as to old acquaintances, or told them she had -come from their home, they did not seem to care about hearing of it, -or to have any recollection of their former friends. She saw she could -expect no help from them. From whom was she to look for it, then? -Surely, only from her guardian, St. Anthony, whose voice it had been, -she knew, that had bidden her “give help from within the castle.” But -where, in all this bewitched, wicked place, could she find a corner -to pray to him, or a spot worthy of his holy presence? Not one of the -captive maidens wore her rosary, or seemed ever to think of saying a -prayer. How could he turn his eyes upon such a household? Oh! could -it be that she, in her earnest desire to obey his voice and help her -forsaken sisters, might be thought worthy to make a shrine for him! -Well, at any rate she would try. - -And so, day after day, in the little time given her for rest and -refreshment, Antonia toiled to make St. Anthony a shrine. She found a -spot, hidden among wild-rose bushes--the only flowers in the garden -that she knew--where there was a ruined pillar and what looked like -the remains of an old archway. Here there were some fallen stones; -and others she brought--staggering under their weight and that of her -hateful keys--from more distant parts of the garden. Sometimes her -strength almost gave way; sometimes she had to stop her work because of -the spying eyes of the witch herself; sometimes she had to make great -efforts to overcome the dull, faint feeling that the unwholesome air -produced, and that she feared above all things. - -But at last the work was done, and a little shrine rose unseen -among the thick bushes. She covered the grey stone with a shower of -rose-leaves, and the white petals of a fragrant flower that grew among -the grass of the garden--and looked proudly and hopefully upon her -labour of love. And now she flung herself upon her knees before it, -praying St. Anthony to accept her work, to fill the shrine which she -had made, and to free his children from the captivity of evil. At first -there was no answer; the minutes of her short hour of rest were ebbing -fast away, and the bell which called back the maidens to their tasks -was beginning to sound, when her eager eyes caught sight of a shadowy -form in the niche of the little shrine. It grew plainer, and a figure -like that of an old man, robed in grey, hovered for a moment against -the wall. Scarcely had his foot touched the rose-covered pedestal, when -a sound like thunder rent the air, and a mighty blast of wind swept -through the trees of the sleeping garden. Antonia fell with her face to -the earth, but in the roar of the storm she was aware of these words, -spoken by the same voice she had heard in her dream: “Thy prayer is -heard, the prison-gates are open, and thou art freed from thy burden; -but it shall fall upon her who laid it on thee--yea, for twice two -hundred years.” The thunder rolled louder, and she heard and knew no -more. - -When she came to herself she was again in her own little room at home, -and might have thought this was but a second awakening from a dream, -only that a great noise of rejoicing broke upon her ear, and when she -went out into the village, she found that in every house whence a -maiden had once been stolen away, the lost one was now restored to the -love of her people. Her own parents, too, clasped her with joy to their -hearts, for she now found that she had been missing for a whole year, -and they also had given her up as lost. When her story was known, the -enthusiasm of the village knew no bounds; Antonia was looked up to by -every one as only next door to a saint herself, and a splendid shrine, -you may be sure, was raised by the people to St. Anthony. - -There was one person in the village, however, who thought that nobody -had made enough of Antonia, after all, and so he devoted himself for -the rest of his days to making up the lack. - -And now, amid all the happy faces in the village, faces of parents -consoled and lovers reunited, only a few sad ones were seen, those of -the maidens who had returned young, to find their loved ones old, or -forgetful, or dead. For these Antonia came too late; and thus it is -that no evil can be so blotted out but that it will leave some traces -in this world. - -Of the castle on the hill, however, no traces were left save a few -ruins. It was years, to be sure, before any one ventured up there, and -then nothing was found but owls and bats and a heap of whitened bones. -But something like the old castle still reappears now and then, the -people say; only it always shows itself down in the valley, where it -first stood, and where the pit now is. It has been seen once or twice, -and the saying is, that if only the beholder could throw something that -belonged to him upon this castle--a cap, a kerchief, or what not--it -would be fixed to the spot and would become his property. Once a -maiden, who knew naught of the tale, went to draw water near the spot, -and came running home to tell her father she had seen a splendid house -standing above the old pit. - -“And didst thou cast thy kerchief on it?” asked the father in haste. - -“Nay,” replied the girl. - -Then he gave her a stinging box on the ear, and ran out himself, but -the castle was gone. - -As for the witch, St. Anthony’s curse was fulfilled upon her, and she -still haunts the hill, carrying the heavy casket and the huge bunch of -keys; nor has any one yet been found to ease her of her burden. - - - - -XIII - -THE SILVER NAIL - -[Illustration] - - -Many years ago there lived in the little town of Stolberg, which is the -centre of a mining district in the Hartz Mountains, a certain Joseph -Kerst, who was the overseer of one of the neighbouring mines. He had -begun work there as a boy, and had no thought or care but for the -treasures that were to be found in those dusky depths, so that he had -come, early in life, to enjoy a position of trust, and a certain degree -of wealth. This, however, was not enough to satisfy him; his great -ambition was to discover a fresh vein of silver, that should be his -alone, and make him the richest of men; and to this end he would wander -night and day about the mountains, and through the disused pits, pick -in hand, seeking for a spot that seemed to promise what he desired. - -Now, with the wealth which was his already, he might easily have kept -a wife, and, indeed, many a girl in the town was on the look-out for -overseer Joseph, and would gladly have become the mistress of the -comfortable old house on the market-place. At last he did seem to -have made his choice, and a good choice too; for he often spent his -spare hours with the watchmaker’s daughter Anna, who was the sweetest, -gentlest girl in the world, and plainly did not want him for his money, -for it was easy to see she worshipped the ground he trod on. If the -truth were known, she often wept in secret over his craze for silver, -and his dangerous midnight excursions into the heart of the mountains; -but the poor, loving creature fancied that when once he had “given her -the ring,” which he promised soon to do, she could persuade him to turn -his mind to other things. - -Meanwhile, however, he did not give up his search, and this is what -befell him at last:--It was a moonlight night; he had turned his steps -towards one of the disused tunnels of the _Auerberg_, and was going to -enter it, when he saw that the inside of the tunnel itself was flooded -with light, as though the moonbeams had found their way in there also. -Yet he presently perceived that this was no ray of the moon, for the -shaft of light streamed forth from within, even from the very heart of -the cavern, and as he gazed, a sound of far-off music struck upon his -ear. Now all miners know that there are spirits in the mountain, who -draw the precious metal down to the depths of the earth, or suffer it -to rise nearer to the surface, according to their pleasure; and Joseph -guessed at once that here might be the clue he was seeking. So, spurred -on by the thought that he was perhaps near the realisation of his -dearest hope, he stepped with a beating heart into the cavern and along -the shining pathway of light. Brighter and brighter it grew; louder -and sweeter, too, the music swelled forth, till his eyes were dazzled, -and his heart throbbed with so exquisite a pleasure that he could -hardly draw breath. And now misty forms, as of men and maidens dancing, -began to whirl before his eyes upon the golden floor; and then, as -these disappeared, he was aware of one radiant figure, clad in snowy, -shimmering garments, who stood alone against the dark rock and beckoned -to him. As he went nearer he saw that the form was that of a maiden. -Her long, dusky tresses fell round a pale, delicate face, in which the -large eyes shone out like lamps; her raiment was woven all of silver -threads, and in one hand she held a slender silver staff, shaped like a -long nail. - -Presently she began to speak, and her voice was as sweet as the music -which had heralded her coming. “Have no fear, good mortal,” the gentle -voice said. “I have watched many a day for thy coming, for I knew thou -wert bold, and wouldst venture much, and I need such a one to release -me from my prison. Thou art seeking for precious ore. Know, then, -that the silver nail I hold can guide thee to the spot where lies the -richest vein in all these mountains. But there is a price to pay.” As -she spoke these words a smile dawned upon her face. But Joseph had no -ears save for the welcome news of the vein of ore; he forgot all his -alarm and doubt, and springing forward, cried: “Beautiful spirit, there -is no price I would not pay for such knowledge!” - -“Art thou sure, Joseph? For this is the price--even that thou shalt wed -me, and promise that thou wilt not ever, in the time to come, cast it -in my teeth that I am a being of the under-world, and that thou hast -been my releaser. Only thus can I be freed; for I seek for love, yea, -as thou seekest for wealth; and if there be one in the town yonder who -hath already taken thy love, why then the price is not thine to pay, -and I warn thee to pause and consider ere thou promise it.” - -Joseph felt a chill creep round his heart. He thought of Anna, but her -image seemed to grow pale beside the one before him. Yet--a spirit -dwelling in the old house on the market-place! How might this be? - -The fairy maiden saw his hesitation, and her smile died away. “Nay, not -now,” she cried as he opened his lips to answer, “not yet must thou -reply, for thy fate and mine will be dark if thou dost promise what -thou canst not fulfil. To-morrow night, when the moon is full, come -again to the mountain, and let thy heart be honest and thy purpose -firm, to answer according to truth.” As she spoke the light vanished, -and Joseph stood once more alone at the cavern’s mouth. The moon -was setting, and its beams were scarcely bright enough to guide him -homeward again, but he stumbled on, unheeding, his mind in a whirl of -perplexity and doubt. When he reached his own door, and creeping in, -sat down by the warm stove, he could scarcely have told whether he -had not been sitting there all night, or whether his adventure had -been anything but a dream. Yet nay--he had surely set forth to the -Auerberg that evening, and in such haste that his half-finished supper -still stood there upon the table. Suppose it were true, and he within -an ace of being the richest man in the land? There was Anna--but did -he really love Anna? Had he promised her anything? He thought not; all -his intercourse with her seemed misty and far off now. Thus through -the night and day he struggled with one thought and another, his mind -in a whirl. His work was neglected, and even his underlings laughed, -unreproved, at his distraught and wandering looks. By evening he had -reached a condition in which he could not have sworn to the truth of -anything. Probably what he had seen the night before was all fancy; -but he must prove it to himself, for if it were true, what vague and -foolish lovers’ talk was there in the world worth giving up such a -chance for? - -Midnight and the full moon saw him standing again at the entrance of -the cavern, his mouth dry and his heart beating with anxiety. He waited -long. Despair, and a secret rage at his own credulous folly, were -beginning to seize hold on him, when his straining eyes caught sight -of a faint glimmer spreading through the dark. He hurried forward, and -with each step the light grew brighter and brighter, till it led him -at last to the rock where he had seen the maiden the night before. But -she was not there; the only thing that met his eyes was an iron door, -let into the rock on the spot where she had leant. He thrust against -it with all his might, and straightway there rang out a strain of the -sweetest music, such as he had heard before. And with the sound of the -music, these words were borne to his ear: “If thou truly and with a -loving heart seekest Eruna, call and she will answer.” - -“Eruna!” repeated Joseph with trembling voice; “Eruna!” - -At the second call the door flew open beneath his hand, and discovered -a rock-hewn chamber, radiant with light that streamed from its walls, -and at the farther end of it, just as he had seen her before, stood -the magic maiden he had learnt to call Eruna. A golden table stood -beside her, and upon it were a book, and a golden candlestick holding -a burning taper, and the candlestick was in the shape of a tall lily, -with buds and blossoms of gold. But in front of the table, on either -side, crouched two strange, terrible creatures with flaming eyes, and -their form was like that of a lion. - -“Come to me without fear, Joseph,” cried Eruna as she saw him start -back; “these beasts are my faithful guardians, but they will not touch -one who comes without fear.” As she spoke she raised the silver nail in -her hand, and a feeling of triumph swept over the heart of the man. It -was true, then; this beautiful being and her promises were no dream, -and he had reached his goal! He sprang forward, all fear driven out by -his eager hopes, and the beasts crouched lower, as he passed them and -fell at the feet of the radiant Eruna. Ah, lions with the flaming eyes! -why was your sight darkened then, and why did no kindly instinct tell -you that daring is not born of love alone? - -“Joseph,” said the gentle voice again, “art thou truly come to set -me free and take me for thy wife? And dost thou make the promise I -asked of thee? Then raise thy hand and pluck this golden flower from -its stem.” He obeyed, scarcely knowing what he did; and lo! as he -broke the lily from the stalk, again the sound of music rang forth and -echoed through the vaulted chamber. And at the plucking of the lily, -the taper was extinguished, and with it all the light in the room. -Darkness enveloped them, and he felt Eruna grasp his hand. He dropped -the golden blossom, and would have fled, dragging her with him, for -now the music had changed to a discord of horrid sounds, and he could -hear the wild beasts moving towards them. But Eruna stopped him for a -moment. “Wilt thou leave this behind thee,” said she--“the token of our -love?” And raising the golden blossom from where it had fallen at her -feet, she laid it in his hand. “Now, indeed, fly,” she hurriedly added, -“or the door will close!” And, in truth, they had scarcely reached -it, she guiding him with unerring steps, when the door clanged behind -them--even striking Joseph upon the heel as he fled--and the clamour -within rose to a hideous pitch. “I have angered my people, the spirits -of the mountain,” murmured Eruna; “then do not thou, O love, ever -forsake me!” - -Joseph shivered; an iron hand seemed to clasp his heart, but he -replied, with the best grace he could muster: “I have sworn to love -thee, Eruna, if thou hast indeed a mind to come down into our life, and -bear our burdens; but, that we may be happy, and that I may give thee -all it befits thee to have, wilt not thou, too, keep thy word and show -me that which I was seeking when I first saw thee?” - -He felt Eruna’s hand tremble in his. “So be it, foolish man,” she said. -“I was nearly forgetting the store thou dost set by the dross that -fills this mountain, and the sight of which wearies me. Come hither, -then, and where I strike in my silver nail, do thou smite with thy -pick, and leave it hanging there. To-morrow thou shalt find what thou -seekest.” As she spoke she paused at a certain point of the rocky -wall beside them, and raised her silver nail on high. Immediately a -pale light shone round about them, and lit up the side of the cavern. -Choosing a spot, she thrust in the point of the silver nail, and it -sank into the rock, leaving scarcely a trace behind. But into the track -it left Joseph eagerly drove his pick, and rolling up a large stone -further to mark the spot, he turned to leave the cavern with Eruna. - -All night long such a storm raged among the mountains that their rocky -peaks seemed to reel beneath the echoing thunder-claps. Joseph never -knew how he got home that night, or whose hand it was that tended him -as he lay, smitten half senseless by the violence of the storm, upon -his cold hearth-stone. - -In the morning curious neighbours, and workmen from the mines, came -pressing in to see if he were at home, and to inquire why he had been -absent so long, and then he knew, for the first time, that a whole week -had elapsed since his departure from home on a certain moonlight night. -But this was no longer, any more than the rest, a surprise to Joseph; -indeed, he rather welcomed the discovery, for how could he else have -accounted for the sudden appearance in his house of the beautiful, -pale woman with dusky tresses, who moved about with timid, uncertain -footsteps, as though the place and its ways were strange to her? He -was relieved to see her silvery raiment had disappeared. But she wore -a garb somewhat different from the dress of the women of the district, -and a happy thought struck him. - -“Ha! ha!” he laughed, “I have stolen a march upon you all! Ye have -often told me I needed a wife, and here I have one, but she comes from -afar, from the other side of the mountains. I became acquainted with -her last year, when I went to see my kinsfolk yonder, and I have had it -in mind to wed her ever since; but I will have no gossips plaguing me -about such matters, so I even went to fetch her home by myself, without -any ado.” - -The neighbours looked at one another, and those on the outskirts of -the crowd slipped off to tell the news, with much added detail, to -Anna, who was too sick to leave her bed. For the poor child had fretted -herself into a fever over the supposed death of Joseph during one of -his lonely rambles among the mountains. - -“Why, then,” cried one of the miners in the crowd, “we have taken a -deal of trouble, master, for naught; we have been seeking thee at the -foot of every precipice in the country for days past.” - -“Plague take ye for meddlesome fellows!” cried Joseph. “Cannot -such a man as I go away for a holiday but it must raise the whole -country-side? I’ll warrant you’ve been making it an excuse to do scant -work; but wait a while, I shall have work enough for ye all soon--ay, -and for many more!” - -He would have driven them forth and hurried away to explore the fateful -spot where he had left his pick hanging, but that a cry of wonder arose -from a woman who had ventured close up to the spot where Eruna was -standing--the spot where Joseph had lain through the night. She had -picked up from the ground a tall branch of lilies, bud and blossom, all -fashioned in pure gold, so cunningly that no such goldsmith’s work -had ever been seen; and the weight of the branch was so great that she -could scarcely lift it. Exclamations and questions rose on every side, -and every one crowded round the holder of this wonderful treasure. - -“That is my wife’s dowry,” explained Joseph, a little taken aback by -the discovery of this prize, which he had forgotten for the moment, but -proud enough of it withal. “There is naught like it, I’ll be bound, in -all the length and breadth of Germany!” - -The people stared open-mouthed, and the men were disposed to envy -Joseph both bride and dowry, but many of the women, though they could -not disguise their wonder and admiration over the golden blossom, began -to cast suspicious glances at Eruna. Joseph was soon aware of them, and -they only increased the uncanny feeling of deception and mystery which -was to become but too familiar to him. For the moment, however, he -smothered it in anger; and declaring that he would have no more gaping -fools in his house, disturbing his honeymoon, he drove the neighbours -forth, only to send them carrying the news of his wondrous marriage far -and wide over the country. - -[Illustration: And declaring that he would have no more gaping fools in -his house, disturbing his honeymoon, he drove the neighbours forth.] - -As soon as they were gone, he too rushed out to the mountain, and -presently found the spot marked by his pick. A few hours’ work -convinced him that Eruna’s promise had not been false, and that here -was a vein of silver whose richness surpassed his wildest dreams. And -now for a time, indeed, Joseph reaped his reward. The country-side rang -with tales of his strange marriage, and of his still more wonderful -discovery of silver. Miners came from all sides, and found employment -at the new works, for a shaft was being sunk, and the vein seemed -inexhaustible. Joseph refused to give any particulars as to how he had -made his discovery; he only insisted on calling the shaft “The Silver -Nail,” a name which caused fresh wonderment among the townspeople. He -was fast becoming a rich man, and the tale of his good-luck, and of the -wondrous golden lily he owned, spread through the land, till it reached -the ears of the King himself, who expressed a wish to behold the -treasure that had fallen into the keeping of a working-man. So Joseph -had to travel to court and show his golden lily--for he had almost -forgotten that it belonged as much to Eruna as to himself, and had -only been entrusted to him as a guerdon of their love. At court he was -forced to baffle as best he could the inquiries that were made as to -how he had come by this marvellous piece of work. It was an heirloom, -he said; none knew how it had come into his family, and for years it -had been hidden in the earth, lest thieves should get at it. Some one -whispered to the bewildered man that he must offer it to His Majesty, -since all treasure-trove rightly belonged to him. This had certainly -not been part of Joseph’s plan, but the King and his courtiers overawed -him, and he stammered forth his willingness to lay the offering at His -Majesty’s feet. - -“In sooth,” the King replied, “this is too rich a treasure for me to -purchase it, or to think of taking it as a gift either, from this good -fellow; yet I were proud to possess it, and it is, indeed, only fit for -a king’s treasury. Now I have found a way. Leave me thy flower, Joseph -Kerst, and take instead the barony of Stolberg, for thou hast enriched -thy native town, and hast paid due homage to thy King, and art worthy -to be reckoned amid the nobles of the land.” - -So Joseph went forth a great man, and thought to return home and bring -joy to his bride, Eruna, for whom he cherished a kind of awe-struck -admiration, as the being who had brought him all his luck. But take -her honestly to his heart, as a simple woman, and love her as he might -have loved his faithful Anna, whom he had known from childhood, that -he felt he could never do. He was dismayed, however, on his return -home, to find a different reception from that which he expected. The -townspeople, indeed, received him with acclamations, as their new -baron, but Eruna’s eyes wore a sadder, more wistful look than usual. - -“Thou hast parted with our lily, our marriage token!” she moaned. “Woe -be to us, Joseph! what are lands and names beside the guarding of our -love? Oh, blind of heart! hadst thou no care for the token that bound -us together, or even for the treasures which my love alone can bring -for thee from the depths of the earth? Take heed to thy tongue, then, -for if love guard it not, it may easily speak the fatal word.” - -Joseph would have replied angrily, but the close of her speech reminded -him of the promise he had solemnly made on that night, which now seemed -so far away, and he choked back his wrath. But from that day things -went crookedly. He spent his money right and left, so that it was gone -almost as soon as it came from the mines. That was of no consequence, -indeed, since there seemed to be no end to “The Silver Nail” vein; but -the riches soon ceased to bring him all the pleasure he had expected. -He was ill at ease in his lordly castle, and heavy at heart when he -went down into the town and saw how his old acquaintances shunned him, -partly from awkwardness at feeling him now so much higher placed than -themselves, and partly on account of the suspicions and rumours that -were whispered about concerning his mysterious wife, who could never -learn the ways of the other women, or talk like one having interests -akin to theirs. Only Anna, who had so just a cause of offence against -him, yet treated him as she had done of old; and when the poor child -arose from the long illness which fell upon her at the sudden news -of his marriage, her gentle, forgiving spirit gave him shelter as a -friend, who now could never be a lover. In talk with her he learnt more -and more to see how great a gift he had bartered away for his heaps of -hard coin, and his lordly, unhome-like home. Yet Anna was often sick, -and could not speak cheerfully even to him, and her father and the -neighbours looked coldly upon his comings and goings.... And up yonder, -at the castle, the pale face framed in dusky tresses gazed forth with -despairing eyes as he turned his steps to the watchmaker’s house. - -At last there came a day when Joseph too looked sadly down from the -hill, watching a funeral train that wound its way along the valley; a -train he might not join, for the people whispered, loud enough for him -to hear, that Anna’s death lay at his door, and that he could do no -less than let her go to her grave in peace. So he watched her go with -remorse in his heart, and as he watched there was that in his face -that no one could mistake. Eruna read it, and the fount of misery that -had been gathering in her breast broke forth, for the first time, in -uncontrollable wailings. - -“Her, her thou hast loved, Joseph!” she cried, “and hast been false -both to her and me! Ah, woe is me that I could not read one mortal’s -heart aright!” - -Now the pent-up wrath and pain in Joseph’s heart were more than -he could bear. No remembrance of his covetous longings or of his -false-hearted dealings withheld him, and he turned upon her, crying-- - -“And if it were so, what is that to thee? For what did I barter my -happiness but to release thee and give thee mortal life, thou soulless -clod of earth!” - -Even as he spoke Eruna glided close, and threw her arms about him, -trying to stay his speech. But it was too late, the words were out, and -as her cold white hand touched his lips, he felt a deadly chill at his -heart, and fell senseless to the ground. - -A clamour of voices, and the sound of hurrying footsteps, brought him -to himself, as the workmen from his mines crowded into the hall. - -“Woe be upon us all, master!” they cried, “where is thy lady? She is -not to be found in the castle, and but an hour ago, as we were leaving -our work to go homewards, we saw a white figure, that wore her face, -though not her garb, glide past us and reach the mouth of the ‘Silver -Nail’ shaft. And we followed after in fear; but as we approached, -before any one could reach it, the white figure cast itself down the -shaft. Then we were affrighted indeed, and the foremost of us went -down, fearing to find a shattered form at the bottom, but there was -no one--no, not a sign, though we searched with care. But strange -sounds rang through the mountain, master. And we came up again, and -hither in haste, to see if perchance she were dead and we had seen her -wraith--but nowhere in the castle halls or woods can she be found.” - -Nor, indeed, was Eruna ever found again; and, what is more, from the -day that the white woman leaped down the shaft, no more ore was found -in the “Silver Nail” mine, and though it still bears that name, no -silver has again been found there to this day. But Joseph wandered -away, distraught with grief, into the mountains; nor could any one -prevail upon him to return again to the castle, but he continued to -wander, seeking for his vein of lost silver, till he met his death by -a fall from one of the mountain precipices, leaving behind him, as the -only tokens of the riches so dearly bought, a ruined castle, and the -forsaken shaft of the “Silver Nail.” - - - - -XIV - -A DOUBTING LOVER - -[Illustration] - - -Upon a lofty crag, overhanging the river Weistritz, in Eastern Germany, -stand the ruins of the Kynsburg. Once it was a splendid castle, and -many an assemblage of noble knights and ladies, and many a gay revel, -were held within its walls. It had its guardian spirit, too; for the -tale went that an apparition, called by the castle-folk “the white -lady,” often wandered by night through hall and garden, and most of -all when some maiden of the house of Kynsburg needed help. So it had -been, they said, when a daring and cruel knight once waylaid a daughter -of Kynsburg as she passed alone at even along the corridor. For this -knight had cast his eyes upon the maiden, who was beautiful, and had -urged her to give him her love, but she denied it him; and so he would -fain have won by foul means what he could not get by fair ones. But -this maiden had, from her childhood, loved to hear of the “white lady,” -and to fancy she was under her protection, and many a prayer had she -said in the castle chapel for the repose of her soul. And now, in the -hour of need, she called upon her, and at once the mysterious white -figure appeared; and while the reckless knight fell upon his knees in -terror, the closed doors of the corridor silently opened, and the girl -fled through them to a place of safety. But next morning the knight was -found lying dead upon the floor. - -This was the story that was handed down from generation to generation -among the folk of Kynsburg, and Adelheid, the beautiful daughter of the -house, had often listened to it with eager ears, and had longed in her -turn to see the “white lady,” and invoke her help. - -For Adelheid, too, had her trouble, though it was hard to see how -any, save one person, could mend it. And that person was not the -“white lady,” but the knight, Bernhard von Haugwitz, whom Adelheid had -secretly loved ever since she first saw him ride by to the hunt, in all -the splendour of his youth and noble bearing. But she had no certainty, -nor much hope even, of her love being returned, though sometimes, to -be sure, she caught his eyes fixed upon her as earnestly as though he -would have read her very soul, so that it needed all the pride that -her blood and her upbringing had taught her, to help her to hide -her agitation. And just at the time I tell of, the knight was at the -castle, for the lord of Kynsburg was giving a great feast to celebrate -the beginning of the autumn hunt; and all the nobles of the country, -far and near, were gathered together for it. Many of their wives and -daughters had come with them, too, so that the castle was overflowing -with guests and merriment, and little time left for Adelheid to brood -over her own thoughts. Yet even now she would sometimes draw aside -from her young companions, as they paced the gardens or the terrace -together, for she hoped that the knight would come and seek her out for -a few moments alone, as he had done once or twice before. But he came -seldom, and her heart grew heavier each day. - -If only she could have known! If only she could have read that proud -and secret heart, and seen how it was filled with love for her, which -gloomy fears and doubts alone kept silent! For Bernhard von Haugwitz -was not the cheery, hopeful being that his years and his fortune should -have made him. Bitter experience and sorrow had already overshadowed -him, and shaken his trust in his fellow-creatures, and his belief in -the happiness of life. He would not, so he told himself, again stake -everything upon the love of a woman; he hesitated to pluck the fruit, -for fear it should leave a bitter taste behind. And this though his -heart was wrung for longing after Adelheid’s love, and pity, too, for -her; for he knew that she loved him, and that her life was consuming -away for his sake; nor had he any good reason to fancy that her love -was not pure and faithful. - -He thought upon it as he sat with his companions round the great oaken -table in the castle hall; the gold and silver flagons passed from hand -to hand, but he let them go by untasted; songs and jesting sounded -merrily on every side, but he did not heed them; the present scene -faded from his sight, and he saw only the tall figure in the white, -gold-embroidered garments, and the wistful eyes gazing into his, as he -had seen them that evening, when he stood for a moment beside Adelheid -in the dusky hall. As he mused he felt his resolution weakening, and -swore that he would flee from the temptation to which he would not give -way. Why not now, at once, without seeing her again? for a meeting -might give rise to words and looks that could only increase his pain -and remorse in the future. What had he to do with these carousing -knights, whose thoughts were far from his own? He would slip out and -look for his page; then the horses should be saddled forthwith, and -they would be up and away. He rose and went out through the ante-rooms -to the terrace of the castle, glad to let the night-wind lift his hair -and cool his throbbing brow. - -The stars shone bright above the opposite hills and sparkled in the -river below. A little breeze whispered in the branches of the poplars; -it was as though the trees talked together. A strange feeling of -expectation was in the air; could it be only that he was looking -upon this spot for the last time? Something moved beside him in the -shadow--he turned, and saw that a tall white figure stood beneath the -poplar-trees. He strained his eyes through the dark--surely he could -not be mistaken, it was the maiden he loved and was leaving for ever. - -“Adelheid,” he called almost in spite of himself, “is it thou? Then bid -me farewell.” - -[Illustration: Yet even now she would sometimes draw apart from her -young companions, as they paced the gardens or terrace together.] - -The figure moved, as though making a sign of assent, and beckoning with -her hand, glided on under the trees. He followed, scarcely knowing what -he did. Onward along the winding paths the figure hurried, and now came -out upon the open space before the castle, where stood the old well, -overshadowed by a spreading lime-tree. Here the light from the windows -fell in patches upon the flags; and before Bernhard had time to reach -the fleeting white form, he saw it cross the streaks of light, and -with a quick movement, spring upon the worn stone margin of the well. -He dashed forward, but too late. With a despairing wave of the white -hands, the figure had plunged into the deeps below. - -Bernhard stood for an instant motionless with horror; then he roused -himself and rushed toward the castle, raising an alarm. “Help, help!” -he cried; “the Lady Adelheid ... the well!” His tongue refused to utter -anything more; he stood gasping, and clinging to the pillars of the -gateway, while a horrible sense of remorse and hopeless desolation -began to stir in his heart. In the castle all was dismay and confusion; -in an instant the knights and serving-men flocked out with torches, -ropes, and ladders. The cries of Adelheid’s mother rose above the -shouts of the men, and from the woods beyond the terrace came trooping -the band of white-robed maidens. - -“What is it?” asked one and another as they hurried along. - -“Adelheid,” was the answer, “Adelheid has fallen down the well.” - -“Adelheid!” repeated the maidens in astonishment. “Nay, she has been -with us, yonder; she does but linger behind.” - -And as the group parted, Bernhard beheld Adelheid, a flush of surprise -upon her cheek, coming towards him down the line of eager, questioning -maidens. The tide of sorrow which had gone nigh to drown his soul, -turned to a flood of great joy, which swept every fear and doubt away. -He sprang forward and cried, as he fell at her feet-- - -“Oh love, my love! that I thought by my folly to have lost! But thanks -be to Heaven, who in the fear of the loss hath made certain to me the -joy of the gain! Here, before all men, I own my love, too long hidden, -and offer thee my heart and my life.” - -So, in all the company, the brief moment of sorrow was turned to sweet -rejoicing, and most of all in the hearts of Bernhard and Adelheid, who -never to their lives’ end had any need to regret the events of that -mysterious night. - -So soon as she heard the story, and that no one else was missing from -the castle, Adelheid felt sure she knew who the mysterious lady had -been; it was the “white lady” of her dreams and fancies, the guardian -of the maidens of Kynsburg, who had thus found a way to end her long -uncertainty. But the question was not so easily answered for the rest -of the company, and some doubting spirits insisted that the well should -be explored. Blazing torches were lowered into its dark, silent depths, -and long poles thrust down to sound it; but nothing was discovered, and -the glare of the torches showed only the damp, moss-grown walls and the -calm face of the slumbering water. - -So the story was proudly added to the annals of Kynsburg, and since -then many peasant youths and maidens have been quite sure that the -“white lady” watches over their love-affairs, and that they have seen -her wandering by night in the woods of the castle, and beside the old -well. - - - - -XV - -A LEGEND OF WALPURGIS-NIGHT - -[Illustration] - - -There was once a young fellow who dwelt near the Brocken, and he had -won a lovely maiden for his bride. He thought himself a lucky man, but -then he did not know that both the girl and her mother were witches. -Now one evening he tarried very late at his bride’s house, and could -not guess why she and her mother were so eager to send him away, for -generally the maiden was loth to let him go; and he did not know that -this was Walpurgis-night, the great meeting-time of the witches. Yet -he grew suspicious, and after he had bidden his dear “good-night,” he -hid himself in the hay-loft, for he half expected to see another man -creep up for a stolen meeting with his sweetheart, and was ready to fly -at his throat. But, instead of this, he beheld mother and daughter step -into the hay-loft alone, and the mother held in her hand a strangely -shaped glass. There they stood in the middle of the barn, and spoke -strange words, and drank from the glass, when lo! on a sudden they had -disappeared. - -Now this tore the bridegroom’s heart with dread and foreboding, and -he determined to follow them. So he came from his hiding-place, and -took up the glass they had left behind. A few drops of red, fiery -liquid still remained in it. Then the lad went out and plucked a -garland of dragon-wort, which he wound round about him, to preserve -him from witchcraft; and after he had done this, he boldly drank all -that remained in the glass, repeating the same words that he had heard -his sweetheart use. And behold! in the twinkling of an eye, he found -himself on the Brocken, in the midst of the magic circle among the -rocks, where the witches meet. - -[Illustration: The company was arriving in great numbers.] - -Jagged peaks and giant fir-trees, with boughs bent crooked by the -breath of the storm-wind, rose on every side, and here and there, -on the rocks, huge fires were burning. The company was arriving in -great numbers, and the bridegroom was astonished to see how many -of his neighbours and familiar acquaintance came riding up, some -on pitchforks, some on goats, cats, or geese. His lovely bride was -there, riding pillion behind her mother on the hay-fork that had been -lying beside him in the loft. He himself was sitting, he knew not -how, on a great hay-waggon, that was drawn to one side of the open -dancing-space, and he laid his wreath of dragon-wort so as to form a -kind of circle around him. Presently the oldest and fiercest among the -witches came swooping down upon him, riding a huge tom-cat. “Ah!” she -cried with a disappointed scowl, “curse thy hedge of dragon-wort, thou -interloper! ’Twould have gone ill with thee but for that!” The tom-cat -gave an angry spit, and the baffled witch pulled him round by the -whiskers, and rode away into the dance. For the dance had begun, fast -and furious, so that the lad could hardly see which way the frantic -creatures bounded and pranced; and all the while there was a terrible -being with horns upon his head, who moved about and directed the -festivities. And what was the bridegroom’s dismay when this fearful -being came towards him, and looking up with a jeering expression, said: -“A bridegroom should have a merry heart, and thou art not here only -to stare and be idle, I take it. I know thee well enough for a fine -cornet-player; here, catch hold of this instrument, and help to play -for our dance.” - -With that he threw up a splendid new cornet into the waggon, and the -bridegroom was fain to take it, and join in with the other players, -who, hidden among the rocks, where he could not see them, were filling -the air with a burst of music. Now the bridegroom could not help -agreeing with the opinion expressed about his playing, and so for -some time he played on, not a little pleased with himself, upon the -beautiful cornet. - -But after a while the Terrible Being gave a sign, and music and dance -stopped at once. Then all the company stood silent, while he drew water -from the “witches’ well,” and poured it into the “witches’ basin,” -where the witches then had to wash themselves, while he sprinkled some -of the water, too, upon them. - -While the bridegroom was watching this dread ceremony, he became aware -that his sweetheart had spied him out, and was gazing at him anxiously. -As soon as she caught his eye, she danced up, and whispered: “Dear -lover, come with me, and I will prepare a couch for thee, for thou must -be weary of this long, wild night.” He would have opened his lips to -scold her, but she touched them, and he was unable to say another word. -Then, taking him by the hand, she drew him, as he thought, into the -neighbouring thicket, where she showed him a downy feather-bed, shut -in by flowered curtains. “Creep in there,” she whispered, “and sleep; -but thy new cornet thou mayst keep as thy reward for playing so finely; -our master hath said so.” With this, she was gone, and he heard the -music and tumult of the dance break forth again, but presently a great -weariness overcame him, and he fell asleep. - -When he awoke it was high noon, and he lay in a meadow close to his -home; the downy bed with thick curtains turned out to be the skeleton -of an old horse, which had lain mouldering in the fields, and between -the ribs of which he found himself wedged. The new cornet, too, proved -to be nothing but a dead cat, with a stumpy tail, which he had almost -chewed off during his fine musical efforts. - -The bridegroom went home, seething with indignation, and bent upon -revenge. That very same evening he betook himself, armed with his -righteous wrath, to his sweetheart’s house, and began:-- - -“Wretched girl! what honest man can have any more to do with thee now?” - -But in a moment the tables were turned, and he found himself in an -unexpected position. “Wretched!” cried she. “I? whom thou hast spied -upon, stolen a march upon, from whose magic glass thou hast dared -drink, and but for whose care thou wouldst have been crushed to powder -last night, thou foolhardy meddler!” - -“’Twas not thou, but my dragon-wort, that saved me,” began the unlucky -fellow. - -“Nonsense!” screamed mother and daughter, now both together. “Dost -think that could have availed thee at all had _we_ raised our voices -against thee? Nay, ’twas we who saved thee; and hadst thou not been -kept out of sight and put to sleep, thou couldst never have lived -through the terrible hour of the ‘witches’ sprinkling.’” - -“At any rate,” complained the brow-beaten man, trying to keep up his -dignity, “I should have been warned it was a witch I was taking for my -bride. But it is time yet,” he added angrily, “and take such a bride I -will not--I will not, I say!” - -“Warned!” shouted mother and daughter at once; “he, a common mortal, -_warned_ of the honour we did him in stooping to mate with his like! -Nay, ’tis plain he is only fit for one lot--a donkey’s! And a donkey he -shall be; let that be his punishment.” - -So before the hapless bridegroom could defend himself, or take refuge -in flight, the magic words were pronounced, and he went forth, an ugly, -rough, braying donkey, a terrible example of man’s folly in attempting, -with however much right on his side, to argue with a witch--or a woman. - -[Illustration: But in a moment the tables were turned, and he found -himself in an unexpected position.] - -Down the road the poor donkey ambled, trying to express his deep sense -of injury by piteous brayings. Presently a neighbour heard him, and -though far from recognising in him an old comrade of the workshop -and the ale-house, he still had pity on him, and noticing, besides, -that he was a fine donkey, he drove him into a stall and put fresh -hay before him. But the donkey could neither eat nor drink, nor bear -to be put to work, so at last the farmer lost patience and drove it -out of his stable. And now the wretched donkey wandered about the -country, munching such dusty grass and thistles as he could find by the -wayside, but driven out of every green paddock as a useless beast, -and receiving more kicks than kind handling. At last, half starved and -hopeless, he determined to swallow his pride, and return to beg the -cruel witches for mercy. - -Now, his bride had been thinking things over, on her side, since he had -been turned from her door in the shape of a donkey. She noticed that -the village-folk shunned her more of late, and besides, they had always -held a kind of suspicious attitude towards her and her mother. - -What if the bridegroom should have let out the horrid truth, during -those few hours that he had spent in the village, after awaking from -his enchanted sleep? What if she should get no one else to woo her now? -So, when she saw the poor donkey appear beneath her window, with lean -ribs and drooping ears, her heart was quite prepared to be softened, -and she listened graciously to his bray of apology and repentance. - -“Well, I will forgive thee this once,” she said, “on one condition, and -that is, that thou dost wed me within twelve hours of the time thou art -rid of thy donkey’s skin. If thou wilt promise this, I will tell thee -how to get back thy proper shape.” - -The donkey went feebly down on his knees in the dust, and held up one -hoof, as a solemn sign that his promise was given. - -“Listen, then,” said the little witch; “thou must watch for a child -to be christened in the village, and wait at the church door till the -water from the font is thrown out; if some only falls on thy back, thou -wilt be changed directly.” - -The donkey threw up his hoofs in glee, and trotted off to the village. -It was a long time before any christening took place; never had there -seemed such a scarcity of births before. But at last the donkey heard -that the son and heir of his old friend the farmer was to be christened -the following Sunday, and he watched eagerly for the party to go to -church, and return again, and then for the beadle to come out upon the -porch and empty away the water from the font. When at last he did so, -the donkey stood right in his way. “Get away, foolish beast,” called -the beadle; but the donkey did not budge. “What care I?” the beadle -thereupon angrily exclaimed, and threw the whole pan of water over the -donkey’s back. He nearly fell to the ground when he saw his old friend -the bridegroom, who had so long been missing, standing in the donkey’s -place; but the young fellow gave him a golden crown to hold his tongue, -and trump up some tale about his having been away on a journey, and he -firmly believed ever after that the beadle had done so. - -Then the bridegroom hurried to claim his bride, and keep his promise, -which was not so very hard after all, for she was a pretty bride, and -one only had to forget that little matter of the Brocken, and take -care to sleep sound on every future Walpurgis-night. But she kept him -in order--“For, mind,” said she, “if ever thou dost treat me to any -foolish behaviour, back into the donkey’s skin thou shalt go again, and -this time every one shall know of it.” - - - - -XVI - -SEEKERS AFTER GOLD - -[Illustration] - - -Among those mountains of Saxony known as the Obererzgebirge, once -famous for their silver-mines, there lived, nearly three hundred years -ago, a man named Ran, who was overseer of the mines of Schneeberg. Now -many among his workmen tried to win the favour of overseer Ran, not -only because he was master of the works, but because of his only child, -his beautiful daughter Gretchen. Her loveliness and her sweetness were -the talk of the country, and every young man in Schneeberg fancied -himself ready to jump down the shaft of the mine for her sake, if it -were required of him. This, however, was not what Master Ran needed. -He was a grasping man, and the constant handling of precious metal -seemed to have increased his thirst for riches. So he was determined -that lovely Gretchen should be a mine of wealth to him, all the more, -perhaps, that the other mine with which he had to do was no longer -as prosperous as it had been. There were general complaints over the -quantity of “blind ore,” as the people called it, that had lately been -found--worthless stuff, that did not repay smelting. This misfortune -was said to be due to the “silver-thief,” or “Kobold,” a wicked little -dwarf that was supposed to haunt the mountain, and draw the silver down -out of the quartz as the workmen approached. At any rate, the failure -of the mine, whoever was to blame for it, was like to bring poverty -among the folk of Schneeberg, and Ran was all the more anxious to -secure riches for himself and his child against that evil day. So he -let it be known that the man who could produce the largest bag of gold -in all the district, should have the beautiful Gretchen to wife. - -“Let those who would get her seek,” said he, “for it is well known -there is plenty of gold in these mountains for any who have wit to find -it, and courage to risk something in the winning of it.” - -Now here was a gauntlet thrown down. Every one knew that the overseer -must be speaking of the mysterious treasures hidden under trees and in -caverns by the dwarfs, and other mountain-spirits; and at the ale-house -of an evening, when the men were gathered together, every one had -some tale to tell of people who had tried to “lift” these wonderful -treasure-pots, or who had been befriended by the dwarfs. - -One told of the dwarf-king who lived in a cave under the neighbouring -mountain, and was mightily fond of teasing people, but would also do -them great kindnesses now and then. Thus a poor maiden was once picking -up wood in the forest, at the mouth of the cave, on a cold winter’s -day, when she met a tiny man with a crown upon his head, and he said to -her: “Kind maiden, I pray thee, pick me up and put me in thy basket; it -snows, and I am so cold and tired, and have no shelter. Have pity on -me, and take me to thy cottage.” The maid had never seen the dwarf-king -before; but as he begged so earnestly, she picked him up, put him in -her basket, covered him over with her apron to keep the snow off, and -turned homewards. But on the way the little man grew so heavy that -she could hardly stagger along under the weight, and had much ado to -get her basket home. She put it down by the fire, and whipped off the -apron, crying: “Let us see what thou art made of, little man, to weigh -so much!” But what were her surprise and joy to find the little man -gone, and in his place a great lump of solid silver! - -“That is an easy way enough to get rich,” said another miner, taking -the pipe from his mouth. He was a native of the Hartz Mountains, and -was looked upon with suspicion for having left his own province to -seek for work so far away. “But every one does not come off so well -as that. There is plenty of treasure hidden in our mountains too; and -there is one spot I mind, near to where I was working, not so long ago, -that I can tell a strange tale of. ’Twas hard by a copper-mine, and -the owners of the works were very rich. But one night the works, the -owners, their house and all, disappeared; all that was left was a great -heap of slack. People said their money was buried beneath it; and not -long after, we began to notice that a blue flame would flicker up from -the slack every night between eleven and twelve. And there was a tall, -black man’s figure, too,” he continued, lowering his voice, “that would -stand over the flame, and try to keep it in till twelve o’clock. That -should have been enough to keep folk from meddling with the place; but -there was a man from Sonan, who declared he had lifted many a treasure, -and was going to have a try for this. And he talked over my brother -and some other men, poor fools, into giving him a helping hand. It was -settled they were to meet at sunset--for that was the right time--by -the slack-heap. ‘Only be sure,’ said the leader, ‘not to speak a single -word while we are at the job, whatever chances, or all is lost.’ At the -appointed hour the work began, and sure enough, after a short time, -they came upon a great pot, brimming over with golden ducats. Now it -had to be lifted. The levers were soon at hand, and up, up, it came. It -was almost on a level with the ground, when a wild shouting and yelping -of dogs were heard; and the workmen turned, resting for a moment upon -their poles, to see what it was. Then behold! from the shadow of the -woods, the Wild Huntsman and his train swept forth, flying through -the air, and followed by their baying hounds. Every one has heard of -the Wild Huntsman, but it is given to few to see him. He went by so -fast, my brother said, that it was as the passing of a shadow across -the sun; yet they could see he wore the dress of a forester, and his -mantle fluttering in the breeze looked like the beating of a huge -wing. Not one of the men spoke as he passed--’tis bad luck to do that; -and besides, they remembered their leader’s words; but they swore he -looked back at them as if angered at getting no answer to his loud -hunting-cry: ‘Hoi-hoi!’ that he shouts as he goes. But no sooner had he -passed than another sight was seen--a queer little man humped together -in a common kneading-trough, who came sliding and pushing along in the -track of the wild train, shouting as he went: ‘If I could but catch -them up! if I could but catch them up!’ Now at this laughable sight the -men forgot both fear and prudence; they shouted with merriment, and one -cried: ‘He will have a hard job to do that!’ And there! as he spoke, -the pot of gold was gone, and all their efforts to find it were in -vain! The men went home with long faces, and well they might, for their -hair presently turned grey with fretting over the lost treasure, and -every one of them died not long after.” - -“Well,” began one of the Schneeberg men after a short silence, “’tis -true enough that the gift of holding his tongue is needful to him who -has dealings with the mountain-spirits. See the case of poor Hans -of Donat. He was always bemoaning his poverty, and on the look-out -for treasure; and the mountain-dwarf gave him riches, too, but only -on condition that he should hold his tongue about the business, and -bring him a penny loaf and a penny dip, every time he went on duty in -the mine; for Hans was a miner. All went well for a bit, and Hans had -plenty of money and to spare; but one day, at the ale-house, drink -unloosed his tongue, and he let the great secret out. And not many days -after, when his comrades were waiting at the mouth of the shaft for him -to give the signal to haul the bucket up, he kept them there a long -time, and then there was a mighty pull on the rope, and a bright light -flashed up the shaft. They hauled as fast as they might, but when the -bucket got to the top, there lay poor Hans in it, dead, and all round -the edge of the bucket penny dips were burning, and the last loaf he -had taken to the dwarf lay untouched on his breast So it was easy to -see who had given him his death-stroke. Poor Hans--to think he bought -his own funeral tapers, too!” - -“Come now,” another of the Schneeberg men rejoined: “all the stories -of treasure-seekers aren’t as dismal as these. Look at the story of -Jahnsbach. Jahn was a poverty-stricken fellow, tramping about after -work; and one night, as he was wandering in the forest near the -Greifenstein, having lost his way, he too met a dwarf, that stood -beckoning to him. He followed, not without fears, and the dwarf led him -into a dark, narrow-mouthed cavern; but no sooner were they within, -than it broadened out into a stately hall, with walls of silver and -chairs and tables of gold, all lit up as bright as day by thousands -of wax-candles in crystal candlesticks. At one table sat twelve men -of noble mien, each wearing the stately dress of a knight. The dwarf -invited the astonished Jahn to sit down and eat with them, and he -obeyed, for hunger gets the better of shyness. He had never before had -such a meal, and he felt refreshed after it, and in excellent spirits. -The twelve men seemed to enjoy his company, and bade the dwarf fill up -his wallet. Jahn took leave of them with hearty thanks, and the dwarf -led him out of the cavern, showed him the road he was in search of, -and then disappeared. When Jahn unpacked the wallet, which was very -heavy, he found that the kindly spirits had filled it with bars of gold -and silver. In his joy and gratitude, he vowed that he would make a -good use of it; and so he built, not far from Thum, a little group of -houses, which he gave rent-free to the poor; and they say he did much -good besides, to the sick and needy. And I never heard that any harm -happened to him. Ye may prove the truth of the tale, for the village of -_Jahnsbach_, which grew up round that knot of houses, is called after -him.” - -“It seems to me,” said a young man, who, sitting by the fire in deep -study over a roll of paper, had not yet spoken, “that in these tales -of yours, only those came to harm who themselves sought after money, -greedily, and merely for their own use. But methinks, after all, the -best and safest way of getting wealth is to work for it. I, too, hope -to find a pot of gold in the earth, but not by your manner of seeking.” - -The men turned and looked at him, with more dislike and suspicion in -their faces than they had shown to the Hartz miner. - -“Yea, by witchcraft,” muttered one of them under his breath, in -response to the young fellow’s words. For Christopher Schürer, also, -was no native of these mountains, and, besides, his doings were -too strange, in the eyes of the rough mining-folk, to be regarded -as anything but uncanny. He had fled from his native province of -Westphalia to escape religious persecution; and his knowledge of -chemistry, and general cleverness, had quickly won him a high position -in the works. Here was already food for jealousy; but, besides this, -he had lately taken to shutting himself up in a little workshop of -his own, and busying himself with experiments, by which, if the truth -were known, he one day hoped to turn the hateful ‘blind ore’ to good -account, and build up the fortunes of Schneeberg and its people. But -this was a deep secret; all his fellow-workmen knew was that he kept -his “smelting-hut” carefully locked, and would tell no one what he -was doing. “And what could that mean save one thing?” said they. Had -they known as well, that he had raised his eyes to Master Ran’s lovely -Gretchen, and that his love was returned, their feeling against him -would have been yet more bitter. - -“Well,” resumed the Hartzman, a bold fellow, who had been heard -to declare that he would stake body and soul on winning beautiful -Gretchen, “I say again, there is danger in ‘gold-lifting,’ but I am -not the one to give up happiness and wealth for that. Danger or no, I -am off to seek for gold, away from this poverty-stricken place; and it -is back to my own mountains I shall go. That is the place for hidden -treasure. But I think Mistress Gretchen’s suitors should play fair; one -must not sneak in before another; so, if there be any here bent on the -same quest, let them stand forth, and agree with me to fix a time when -we shall all meet again, ready to go before Master Ran and show which -has won the wager.” - -“That is but right,” answered the men; and two of them stood up and -announced that they meant to join in the contest One was a strapping -young fellow, bold and careless, fond of the dice and the bottle, and -well known to be one of Mistress Gretchen’s most desperate admirers. -The other was a pale, red-haired man, with a shifty glance; it was -plain he could never hope to get any girl except by tempting her with -gold. - -“What, only three of us!” cried the Hartzman; “only three to contend -for the winning of so fair a flower?” - -“The stakes are too high for common men to take a hand,” replied one -of the Schneebergers, laughing awkwardly: “perhaps when ye have all -failed, there will be a chance for humbler and less daring folk.” - -“Well, so be it,” rejoined the Hartzman; “I have no fear of failure, -and six months is enough for me, but that I must have, for my goal lies -far off. Say, comrades, shall we meet here again this day six months, -and report our success?” - -“There is one more would join you,” spoke a quiet voice from the -chimney-corner, and Christopher Schürer rose and came towards them. -“I do not mean to dig for pots of gold, or to follow dwarfs into dark -caverns, but if I get the needful wealth, I suppose I may contend with -the rest?” - -He spoke with a somewhat scornful smile, for he marked the look of -dislike upon his comrades’ faces. - -“We cannot gainsay thee,” said Fritz, the tall young Schneeberger, -after some hesitation, “for there is nothing to keep any man from -taking part in this contest--but methinks thy trouble will be in vain,” -he added, with a self-satisfied air. - -“Unless the devil help him!” growled the Hartzman, who looked more like -a comrade of the devil’s himself, as he glared from under his heavy -brows at his rival. “But let be--fair means or foul are alike to me,” -he muttered low to himself, “so I do but keep your smug face out of -this fight.” - -So the four parted, and next day the tale was all over Schneeberg, -and Mistress Gretchen was sorely teased by all the wives and maidens -among her friends, on the subject of the event that was to decide her -fate. Master Ran bit his lip and frowned angrily, when his old friends -upbraided him with his indifference to his daughter’s happiness and -said that such wealth as her suitors had been driven to seek for -would never bring luck; but he stood firm, even against his daughter’s -prayers--the richest man should have her, and no other. “Who knows,” -people began to say, “what his own secret troubles may be, or what -money he needs to cover his own ill doings?” - -Gretchen had indeed implored her father to withdraw his rash promise to -the gold-seekers, and had sworn she would be bought by no man to wife, -for a pot of ill-gotten money; yet his obstinacy did not seem to cause -her as much uneasiness as might have been expected. Perhaps she knew -what was going on in Christopher’s little smelting-hut, or perhaps he -found words wherewith to comfort her, during their stolen interviews -and walks in the lonely pinewoods far up the mountain. He, at any -rate, did not believe in the likelihood of the seekers finding hidden -treasure. - -Fritz had gone forth on his wanderings alone, and alone, too, the -Hartzman had departed to his native mountains; but Master Red-hair -had taken a friend with him on his journey, and Christopher, as has -been said, remained quietly at home in his workshop. Time sped on, and -as the six months drew to their close, Gretchen began to look more -anxious, and Christopher more careworn and pale, and overworked. - -At last the great day arrived, and all the men gathered eagerly -together at the ale-house, where Master Ran, too, was to be seen -looking out for his would-be sons-in-law. It was known that not one -of the wanderers had as yet turned up in Schneeberg, and Christopher -Schürer, too, seemed to have forgotten the day, for he had not left his -hut since morning. - -It was summer, and still quite light, for the men had assembled -early. Now, as they sat at the tavern door, looking anxiously down -all the roads, there appeared on the edge of the forest, to the left, -the form of a man staggering along with a heavy burden upon his back. -Expectation rose to the highest pitch; but what was the horror and -dismay of the company, when it was seen that the man was that friend -whom Red-hair had taken away with him on his quest, and that the burden -he bore was the body of his unfortunate comrade! With awe-struck faces -they carried the dead man into an inner room, and then supplied the -weary bearer of this sad burden with food and refreshment. When he was -able to speak, he told the story of Red-hair’s ill-omened journey:-- - -“We sought for many weeks,” he said, “far and near, following up any -clue we could get about buried treasures; but we never found anything, -nor could we even get enough information to make a trial, until a -week or two ago, when we were returning homewards in despair, and -learnt that in a cliff, about a day’s journey from here, there was -a ‘treasure-chamber,’ where gold and silver lay in heaps. More than -one of the villagers swore to having peeped in and seen it, but none -had dared venture farther, because there was said to be a wild beast -in the cave, whose growlings could be heard outside. Master Red-hair -had much ado, methinks, to muster up courage for the venture, but one -day, towards evening, after he had been drinking deep at the tavern, -he armed himself with a stout stick and a knife, and called me to -climb the cliff with him. The climb in the hot afternoon sun brought -the blood to my cheeks, but he grew paler the higher we got, and when -at last we stood at the mouth of the cave, he stammered: ‘See here, -comrade, thou art a stronger man than I, and art not troubled with such -a fluttering heart; what if thou shouldst first step in and see how the -land lies? I will join thee at thy first call, and--thou shalt have -half the treasure.’ - -“‘Nay, nay, comrade,’ I answered; ‘each man for himself. I agreed to -come with thee for company, and to give thee a helping hand in case of -need, but this is not my venture, and I never said I would risk _my_ -skin to win thee a bride. As for treasure--I have wife and babes at -home, ’tis true, yet I warrant we would all rather be there together, -in poverty, but with whole skins, than risk life and limb for a pot of -gold that had a curse upon it.’ This did not seem to cheer him much, -and I saw I had gone the wrong way about to hearten him up. ‘Yet I -see nothing greatly to fear in the look of the case,’ I continued, -‘and a step within is not much to venture, to win a bride that is so -beloved’--for I had often heard him call on Gretchen’s name in his -dreams--‘and for that matter, I will come _with_ thee fast enough; -only mind, thou wilt have but half the treasure if I do!’ This seemed -to decide him, and he said he would venture in if I promised to stand -by the mouth of the cave and run to his help at his first cry. This I -promised to do, and saw him disappear into the darkness. The mouth of -the cave was wide, but it narrowed immediately within, and what was my -horror when I saw, as I stood watching it, that it was beginning slowly -to close--and yet Red-hair had given no sign! As I saw the opening grow -smaller, I shouted to him to return, and would have gone in search of -him but that I could not push my way along the narrow windings of the -path. But at that moment I heard his voice answering with terrified -cries to mine, and mingled with them, the sound of an angry growl. I -thrust my hand through the opening and groped about, for I felt sure he -was not far off. In another instant I had, indeed, grasped him by the -arm, and with much ado, dragged him through the chinks of the rock to -the outer air. He was torn, bleeding--and empty-handed. - -“When he could speak, he told me that it had at first been light in the -cavern, and that at the farther end of it he had found, sure enough, -a great chest full of gold. He was busy filling a sack he had brought -with him, when he heard my call, and turning, saw that the front of the -cavern was growing quite dark, and closing up. In horror, he started -towards it, dragging his half-filled sack; but before he could reach -the cave’s mouth, a huge black form, like that of a monstrous dog, -dashed upon him out of the shadow and struck the sack of gold from his -hand. He fell fainting to the earth, and never knew, he said, how he -reached the spot from which my hand dragged him forth. I carried him to -the village; but when the folk who lived there heard where he had been, -they would have nothing to say to him, and we were fain to take refuge -in a lonely hut, where I cared for his wounds as best I could. But he -never held up his head again, and died yesterday. There was nothing -left for me to do, since none would help me, but to carry him home as -ye have seen.” - -The man stopped speaking, and an awe-struck silence fell on the -company. The first to break it was a stranger, who had joined them, -unheeded in the common excitement. - -“I fear,” said he, “that ye miss yet another of your countrymen from -among you to-night, and though I am no friend of his, yet I, too, felt -it was all I could do to come hither and bring you tidings of him--sad -ones though they be. One Fritz of Schneeberg took up his quarters in -our village, many long miles from here, a few weeks back. He, too, told -us he had been wandering in search of adventure, and asked if there -were no hidden treasures in our land. Well, to be sure, we told him of -the Güss, a deep lake that lies in one of our valleys. It is said that -a rich and prosperous farm once stood there, of which the owners were -as wicked as they were rich. So one night, thus the tale runs, this -lake rose suddenly from the depths of the earth, and swallowed up the -farmhouse and all it contained, yet the gold belonging to those wicked -men is still lying down below there, for any bold diver who has a mind -to go and try for it. No one in our village has ever tried, within the -memory of man; but this Fritz declared he was at home in the water and -did not fear to make the venture. He was a bold fellow. Many of us -tried to dissuade him--yes, some of our maidens amongst the number,” -he added with a half-smile; “but no one succeeded, and the tale went -through the country-side that a stranger was going to dive to the -bottom of the Güss for the treasure. Fritz spent some time every day -swimming and diving in the lake, and soon got to know its deeps and -shallows, and the exact spot where the house stands, for on clear days -one can plainly see from a boat the shadow that it casts. At length -the day came on which he had promised to make the trial; and a great -crowd of people, among whom were some very wealthy noblemen from a -neighbouring castle, assembled to see it. Fritz dived once, and it was -a long time before he reappeared; ye could have heard a pin drop in -the crowd while we waited. But he came up again, and told us he had -seen the house, as plain as he saw the boat we were awaiting him in. -The roof had fallen in, and in one of the top chambers he had seen the -promised heap of gold. Every one gaped, except those grand gentlemen, -for they, one could see, didn’t believe him. - -“‘I am ready to go again,’ cried Fritz, standing up on the boat’s edge. -‘I will have that gold yet!’ - -“The noble gentlemen looked scornful, yet one seemed half convinced, -and said-- - -“‘Thou’rt a bold lad. Do but bring me one of yon pieces of gold, and I -will add a thousand golden crowns to it!’ - -“The unlucky lad needed no other spur; in he leapt, and we waited, -hopefully at first, but all in vain. Fritz never came to the top again, -and we tried without success even to drag the lake for his body.” - -This second dismal tale was received with lamentations, for Fritz had -been a popular lad, and had left a widowed mother behind him. Some one -was heard to say that Mistress Gretchen stood a poor chance of getting -any husband at all, since her father’s greed had been the means of -bringing ill luck to so many poor fellows--for the Hartzman had not -turned up either, and doubtless he too had come to a bad end. “Ah!” -said another bystander, “Christopher Schürer was right, and it had been -better to have worked for their wealth like other men.” - -“Schürer, indeed!” echoed Master Ran, trying to put a bold face on it, -despite the dismay which he, too, secretly felt: “And where, prithee, -is he? Did he, too, not promise to show himself on this evening?” - -“Thou wilt not see him, Master Ran,” replied the sheriff of the town, -coming forward from among the crowd, where he had hitherto stood -concealed, “till I give my men leave to open his door. I have had my -eye on yon fellow for many months, for ye all know that he has long -been suspected of witchcraft and sorcery; but what no one knows is, -that the Hartzman, before he left this place, gave me further and more -telling proofs of Schürer’s evil doings, which he had noticed unawares. -Only he prayed me not to denounce him--except he should try to fly from -the town--until this day arrived. I have kept my word, but Schürer has -been a prisoner in his smelting-hut since this noon; and if ye will, we -can now go there, and judge of his doings for ourselves.” - -No sooner said than done. The sheriff, Master Ran, and the whole -company turned their steps to the little hut on the hill, followed, -I dare swear, at a short distance, by the trembling Gretchen. As the -bolt which the sheriff had had fastened across the door was withdrawn, -a joyful exclamation greeted the startled officers of justice, and -Schürer came towards them with a glowing face, holding in his hand a -trough full of a blue powder of beautiful colour. - -“Welcome, my masters!” he cried, without noticing their black looks. -“Are ye come that I may prove to you the sooner how I have kept my -word?” - -“Not so fast, Master Schürer,” interrupted the sheriff; “keep thy -welcome till thou seest how far it is due. We have come to charge thee -with witchcraft and sorcery. What hast thou to say against that?” - -Christopher’s face darkened, but he showed no dejection. “I say,” he -answered, “that ye should prove before you condemn; and here now I -have the proof to give. A few days past it might have gone harder with -me, for I could not have convinced you of the sincerity of my aim; -but within the last few hours, thank Heaven, the work of long months -has been successful, and I can bring the ‘pot of gold’--or what is as -good--that I promised to produce to-night, as the price of Mistress -Gretchen’s hand.” His eyes sought those of some one in the crowd, and -seemingly found what they sought, for he continued with a joyful smile: -“See this powder; it is prepared, by an invention of my own, from that -ore which you think worthless, and cast away out of the mines; and if -I mistake not, it will be of great use, and bring work and wealth back -amongst our people.” - -He then showed them how the powder was made, and what its use was, and -soon convinced even those who would most willingly have continued to -suspect him, that he was free from the charge they had made against -him. Master Ran, too, presently saw that the discovery of the beautiful -blue powder, which the people at first called the “blue wonder,” but -which was afterwards named smalt, would be as good as many a pot of -gold to Christopher, and so he ended by giving him his daughter with a -good grace, all the more that he saw well enough the young people would -never suffer to be parted. The wedding feast was clouded only by the -memory of the unhappy suitors who had fallen victims to their own folly -and Ran’s greed. - -Many people, and Gretchen amongst them, often wondered what had become -of the Hartzman, and whether he had been punished by some dreadful -accident for his plot against Schürer. But no answer was forthcoming -to this question, for many years. Mistress Gretchen was already the -buxom mother of many fair children, when one day a man, worn and old -before his time, came toiling up the village street, and stopped before -the ale-house. Master Ran, now quite an old fellow, was sitting at -the door, and seeing the man’s gaze fixed upon his face, noticing, -too, something familiar in his look, he inquired: “Dost thou know me, -friend, or can I do somewhat for thee?” - -“I see,” answered the traveller, “that the Hartzman is forgotten. I -suspected as much, and suppose, indeed, that the game is played out, -but I wanted to come and see for myself!” - -“The Hartzman!” cried Ran. “Why, we all thought you lost, man, long -ago, with the others. For know that they were lost, all save my -son-in-law, Christopher, who has made Schneeberg rich. But tell us -where thou hast been these many years, and why thou didst give up the -prize that once so tempted thee--yea, tempted thee to do a dirty trick, -too. But let bygones be bygones!” - -“So he got her after all,” mused the Hartzman. “Well, when I saw what -had befallen me, I guessed that all was lost.” - -By this time a crowd had collected round the stranger, and a whisper -went round, explaining who he was. - -“And what was it befell thee?” asked one of the Hartzman’s former -comrades. - -“When I reached home,” the latter answered, “I went to the Morgenbrots -Valley, near the Brocken, for I knew many wonders happened there, and -that it was the likeliest place for me to find the sort of treasure I -was after. Many days and nights I wandered about the hills and woods of -that district, hoping to overhear some word of counsel from the voices -of the underworld. At last, one morning, as I sat near a spring that -rises toward the head of the valley, I suddenly saw a man of strange -appearance, and wearing a foreign dress, standing by the spring, where -no one had stood the moment before; and he was holding a sieve under -the waterfall, but as the stream rushed through it, the sieve caught -and held a number of large pearls. When his sieve was full of them the -man washed his hands in the spring and said: - - ‘In the Morgenbrots Valley I wash myself, - In Venice town[8] I dry myself.’ - -With that he disappeared, and I hurried to the water’s edge, but could -only pick up one or two pearls that he had let drop; nor could I find -any more. This was not enough, so I determined to follow him, and -repeated the charm, making sure it would carry me into some hidden -treasure-cave. But I had hardly finished the words before I found -myself in a strange city, where I saw not a soul I knew, and could not -understand a word any one said. I am a bold man, but I am bound to say -this dismayed me, and I wandered about till nightfall, wondering how I -should keep from starvation. I was beginning to despair, when, on one -of the bridges of which the city was full, I met the same man whom I -had seen that morning in my native mountains. He could understand me, I -knew, and I spoke to him and implored him to help me. - -“‘I know thee, and thy history,’ said the man, and his face was ill to -look upon. ‘Thou art a fool, and wouldst have been a thief. Wherefore -should I help thee?’ - -“‘Sir,’ I cried, ‘have pity on me this once, and know it was but love -that made me covetous and reckless. I am a fool, in truth; but I am -also, surely, a countryman of thine, and in a wretched case. I pray -thee, send me back to my own land.’ - -“At last he was moved, and took me home with him to a splendid house, -where the very bed I slept upon was hung with tassels of pure gold. And -all this treasure he had got out of our Morgenbrots Valley. He told me -to go to bed and sleep in peace, and that on rising in the morning I -was to take water and wash my hands, saying: - - ‘In Venice town I wash myself, - In the Morgenbrots Valley I dry myself,’. - -and I should at once find myself in our Hartz Mountains again. I did -as he bade me, and all came to pass as he said. Only, when I looked at -my face in the spring, and when I questioned the folk in the villages -hard by, I found that not one night, as I supposed, but many years, had -passed since I left the valley. Home, relations--and bride, I had lost -all. I knew it was vain to return here, yet I have come all the same.” - -“Upon my soul, ’tis a worse punishment than thou didst deserve!” cried -Master Ran. “But come home now, at any rate, and greet my daughter.” - -“Nay,” replied the wanderer, taking up his staff again, “there is no -place there for me, and I had best go on my way. I shall never be -anything but a homeless man now.” - - - - -XVII - -THE MAIDEN’S ROCK - -[Illustration] - - -On the left bank of the Elbe, near Pirna, stands a lofty crag, called -the “Maiden’s Rock.” One part of it, in fact, is shaped like a maiden’s -figure--and this is the reason why:-- - -It seems that, a thousand years ago and more, there dwelt in the -village of Pfaffendorf, close by, a terrible old witch, who went by -the name of Mother Gundelheind. No one dared go near her or enter her -house, but those who had ventured to peep through the window in her -absence declared that a blue flame danced upon her hearthstone, above -which some devilish brew hung boiling, and that a black fox crouched -whining beside this uncanny fire. Many a belated passer-by had seen her -at night, flashing through the air upon her broomstick; and sometimes -she had a companion, a fiery dragon who flew by her side, and brought -her great store of red, molten gold, that he dropped from his wings -before her threshold. It is needless to say that she was never at home -on Walpurgis-night, the great meeting time of all the witches and evil -spirits; but, indeed, she was oftener abroad than within doors, for -when she was not revelling with her own kind, she was busy working evil -spells upon her neighbours, bewitching their wives, their children, -and their cattle. Plenty of people had seen her at it, but there was -nothing to be done; complaints and lamentations were of no avail -against her stony heart, and punishment was not to be thought of, for -her revenge would have been such as no one in the land dared brave; -and besides, how can any one get the better of a witch so mighty, that -neither fire nor water have power over her? Yet her punishment awaited -her, and she feared it, and had, in her great wickedness, found a way -out of it, as she thought. - -For there was another person who dwelt in that ill-famed cottage, and -was in all ways the opposite of the terrible Mother Gundelheind. This -was her young daughter Truda, and how she came by such a daughter none -can tell; for Truda was as sweet as a May morning, and her hazel eyes -had the look that the angels wear, in the church pictures. Instead of -the old woman’s horny, blackened hide, Truda had a skin as fair and -soft as cream; instead of her mother’s harsh and grizzled locks, she -had long, silky tresses, the colour of a newly ripened chestnut; and -instead of the witch’s cruel, rasping speech, a voice as gentle and -musical as the ringdove’s. And her mind and soul were as beautiful -as her body, so that every one loved her, and looked after her with -friendly smiles, while they turned their eyes from the wicked mother -and her ill-omened glance. To be sure, this made it hard for Truda to -have any of the friends or the pastimes befitting her age and sweet -nature; for none would cross the threshold of her mother’s house, -nor would she suffer her daughter to enter one of the neighbours’ -dwellings. She kept Truda fast at home, sewing, washing, or spinning; -for it can easily be believed that the old witch herself had no time or -mind for such a wholesome work, and the housekeeping would have gone to -ruin but for Truda. - -Nor was this all: the capricious creature would have her child as pious -as she herself was godless, and made her learn her Catechism, and go -to church on Sundays, and fast, and do penance, with such zeal that -the poor child was sometimes quite worn-out. Never a day’s merrymaking -did she get; never might she join the dance upon the village-green, or -wander by the river in the moonlight, like the other young folk; for -even when her mother was from home, she could watch and spy upon her -by means of a magic mirror, in which the old witch could see at her -pleasure all that was happening at home, or, indeed, in any place she -chose to think of. - -Now, it may be thought that the old woman was not so graceless but -that she still had some lingering care for her child’s well-being--but -this, alas! was not the cause of her watchfulness, for which she had -only too horrid a reason. It is needless to say that this wicked -creature had long been given, body and soul, to the Evil One; she knew -that the day would come when he would surely claim his prey, and, as -has been said, she feared her punishment, and was ready to pay any -price to escape, and to be allowed to go on freely in her wickedness. -Now, upon one of those midnight wanderings, during which all dark -secrets were unveiled to her, she had happened to find out that the -Prince of the lower regions was not so particular as to the fashion -in which his debtors paid their score, and that he would be willing -to take her little daughter Truda in her place, so long as the girl -was innocent of any sort of wrong-doing. And this was why Mother -Gundelheind scolded and spied, and used every means in her power to -bring up her daughter a model of pious perfection. - -She had succeeded pretty well, to be sure, and her bad example, far -from doing any harm, seemed rather to have driven the girl in an -opposite direction; but there was one thing that had so far escaped -the old hag’s notice. She could not choose but let Truda go into the -village sometimes--to market, for instance--because no one would have -any dealings with the witch herself, if they could help it, while to -Truda they gave their freshest fruit and richest cream. And again, -she must go to church, for that her mother dared not let her miss. -So it came to pass that Truda made a few friends, and one especial -admirer, Wippold the forester, who spent half his life in planning -stolen meetings with her, or in waiting to catch a glance from those -hazel eyes as she went demurely by, prayer-book in hand. Old Mother -Gundelheind had by this time got into the habit of trusting Truda, -perhaps over much; but even witches will be caught napping sometimes, -and this was the time of the Walpurgis Feast, and her head was full -of other matters. So it came to pass that she forgot, once or twice, -to look into her magic mirror, and never knew that Truda held tryst -with the forester upon the rock overhanging the Elbe, to which the -country-folk sometimes climbed up on their Sunday rambles. For the -witch’s harsh and unnatural behaviour had borne fruit at last, and had -driven even the sweet, confiding Truda into underhand ways, because -they were the only means of bringing a little relief into a life that -would else have been nearly unbearable. - -But it was hard work to keep anything from the old hag for long; and -presently she began to notice that Truda was wont to sit dreaming by -the hearth of an evening, while her spindle lay idle beside her, and -her wheel stood silent in a corner. Then the witch grew suspicious, and -observed her more closely again; nor was it long before she spied out -Wippold escorting the girl home from market one morning. He left her -before they turned the corner of the cottage, to be sure, but as soon -as Truda’s hand touched the latch, the old woman flew at her like the -fury she was. - -“What is this?” she screamed. “What good-for-nothing acquaintances -hast thou been picking up, idle baggage that thou art? Never think to -deceive me! If thou dost so much as give yon fellow a ‘good-day’ again, -I will rather starve here at home with thee than suffer thee to set -foot in the market!” And she flung herself down, quite out of breath, -in her dark ingle-nook, muttering something about “running no such -risks.” - -Truda betook herself to her wheel, silent and bewildered, and ventured -no word of self-defence. But that evening, as she sat gazing into -the flame that flickered up with blue tongues from the blackened -hearth-stone, she plucked up courage and asked-- - -“Why must I never speak to a man, mother, or have any dealings with the -village-folk, as other maidens do?” - -“Because men, and all human folk, are evil. Thou shalt speak to the man -I shall choose for thee, and to no other,” rejoined the hag, with a -grim chuckle. - -“Have men wrought thee harm, then, that thou dost shun them so?” -continued the girl. “Methinks the folk at market fear thee more than -thou dost them. And yet there be some folk whose company thou dost -seek, I have heard thee say, when thou goest forth on these long -journeys. Whither dost thou go so far, mother, and wherefore?” - -“Fine doings!” sputtered the old woman viciously. “Listening to evil -spoken of thine own mother, and spying upon her! Little white-faced -fool! what knowest thou of that which is fitting to be done? But have -a care, or thou wilt find out something of my power, and of how I can -punish when I have a mind.” - -Truda sank into terrified silence, and brooded in her own heart over -the mysteries of the dark fate which she seemed unable to escape. - -But she would escape it yet! She would not give up her love, and -everything that made life happy, without a struggle! Only her weapons -must be guile and secrecy, and she was but little skilled in the use -of them, poor child. For days and weeks she worked and drudged at home, -to quiet her mother’s suspicions; only now and then, as she hurried -along to get some few things they could not do without, she managed to -give Wippold a sign that kept him quiet. At last, one Sunday, the old -witch, afraid to keep her from her pious duties any more, and feeling -sure that she had frightened her into obedience, bade the girl get -ready to go to Mass; she herself would see her to the church door, -though she might go no farther. Truda could not quite keep out of her -face the joy which this order gave her, and her mother did not fail to -notice the radiant gleam which lit up her eyes. She hurried away to get -ready; and before the bell had ceased ringing, her mother had watched -her run lightly up the steps and disappear into the church. Could she -at that moment have seen through stone walls, she would have beheld her -daughter reply to a sign made her by the young fellow who stood waiting -behind one of the pillars and follow him out at the small north door, -which was nearly opposite to the one by which she had gone in. And now, -keeping close in the thickets, so as to be seen of no one, the pair -of lovers hastened towards the lonely rock, where they were sure of a -quiet hour together, and where Truda could unburden her heart of all -its fears and sorrows, and hear from her lover that he would never rest -till he had carried her away from her unhappy home. - -Meanwhile the old witch had returned to her cottage, thinking over her -daughter’s behaviour that morning. “I wonder why she was so overjoyed -to go to church,” she mused; “it was not always her wont.” She could -not get the matter out of her mind, and after a time she was so -tormented by suspicion that she fetched out her mirror, and sprinkling -some drops of magic water upon it, desired it to show her the spot -where her daughter was. - -Immediately there arose before her the picture of the lofty rock--its -surface sparkled in the sunshine; down below, the blue Elbe wound along -amid the meadows, and on a narrow green space near the top of the crag, -and overshadowed by it, she saw the forms of the two lovers. Her Truda, -the virtuous maiden, on whom she had staked all her hopes, was folded -in the arms of the forester, while he pressed burning kisses upon her -lips, and prayer-book and rosary lay forgotten at their feet. - -Every drop of blood in the old hag’s veins tingled with fury, a hellish -light gleamed in her sunken eyes, and seizing her witch’s staff in her -hand, she went raging forth, and in the twinkling of an eye had rushed -like a storm up the rocky ascent, and fallen upon the luckless lovers. - -“Accursed child! and hast thou lied to me, and is this the Mass thou -wentest forth to hear? And thou, thrice accursed fellow, it was an evil -day for thee when thou camest a-wooing of Gundelheind’s daughter!” - -And before the ill-fated man could so much as attempt to defend -himself, the witch, suddenly grown to an immense height, and towering -grimly above him, seized him in her huge horny hands and cast him down -the cliff into the river below. - -[Illustration: And in the twinkling of an eye had rushed like a storm -up the rocky ascent, and fallen upon the luckless lovers.] - -Truda, white and cold with anguish, stood rooted to the spot, and now -the raging fury sprang upon her also. “Now it is thy turn,” she hissed -out. “Ah! hast thou lied, and blasphemed, and dallied here with thy -lover? A pretty ransom thou art, and much that creditor of mine will -care to get thee now! Hence go all my chances of safety! But at least -thou, accursed creature, shalt never be a witness of my defeat!” And -lifting the staff with which she wrought her wicked spells, she struck -her daughter across the face with it. But Truda never felt the blow. -Beneath her fiendish mother’s curse she had turned to stone; the rock -folded her, as it were, in its inflexible arms, and to this day bears, -as a witness of the terrible deed, the form of a maiden. - -But where, as she fled through the night from his vengeance, the -Arch-Enemy’s stroke fell upon Mother Gundelheind, that the legend -forbears to say. - - - - -XVIII - -THE WATER-SNAKE - -[Illustration] - - -Old Lisbeth sat by the fire and spun, but on the opposite side of the -hearth her son Dietrich crouched idle, his cheek upon his hand, gazing -into the embers. For many weeks he had been growing more and more -silent and listless, and no one could tell what ailed him. Was it that -Johanna, the maiden he was courting, had been cruel to him, or was -something wrong with his work? His old mother looked across at him and -wondered. Outside the wind was blowing, and brought plainly to their -ears the sound of the river as it rushed through the valley towards the -lake of Pöhlde, that the Hartz-folk call the Tumpensee. Now and then -the blast rose to so shrill a pitch that you might have thought a voice -was calling from afar; and when this happened, Dietrich would start -from his seat and make as though he would rush from the house, but each -time he checked himself, and sank with a shiver upon the bench again. -At last Lisbeth could bear it no longer. - -“What ails thee, son?” she cried. “Art thou bewitched, that a mere gust -of wind can set thee all a-tremble?” - -Dietrich was silent for a while, casting furtive glances toward door -and window, as though he were afraid that his reply might call up some -unwelcome sight. At last he answered in a whisper-- - -“I doubt I am, indeed, mother! Hast thou ever heard tell of voices -rising from the river and the lake yonder? Or was any one drowned there -these days, that one should see a gleam of red-gold hair beneath the -water?” - -Lisbeth turned pale. - -“Heaven help us!” she exclaimed in a low voice, as though she, too, -were afraid of being overheard, “do thou have nothing to do with the -river-side or the banks of the lake, Dietrich. That is how men come by -their death.” - -“But knowest thou anything of it, mother? What is there to fear, if -fear there be?” persisted the young man. - -“What care I for such tales! Tales there are of spell-bound maidens -who call for some one to deliver them, and of water-snakes, and such -nonsense; the country is full of them, thou knowest as well as I. But -there is no need to believe them,” continued Lisbeth hastily, as if -fearing she had said too much. “Do thou take thy Johanna to wife, and -bring her home; that will drive all such fancies from thy head.” - -A look of pain crossed Dietrich’s face. - -“Ah, Johanna!” he exclaimed, “if I could but turn my mind to thoughts -of her! Yet I fear she has fancied me cold and neglectful of late.” - -“Nay, nay, son,” his mother answered, “Johanna has eyes but for thee; -trust my word for it. See, the storm is passing; do thou go over and -bid her good-evening, and tell her that the old mother needs some more -of that yarn she can spin so stoutly, and thinks she might even bring -it over herself, and gladden this house with a sight of her face. There -is a gloom hangs about it when she is away, and the sooner she lives -with us for good, the better it will be.” - -Dietrich took his cap from the peg and opened the door, but as he stood -on the threshold, he turned to his mother once more. - -“What if I should bring _her_ to harm too?” he said, and was gone. - -The old woman mused on by the hearth; her thoughts were not cheerful, -for in her secret heart she firmly believed that some water-sprite -had indeed bewitched her unlucky boy, but she put a bold face on it, -and stuck to the idea that his marriage with Johanna would be the -saving of him. Her thoughts would have been sadder still could she -have seen how Dietrich swerved from the path that led to Johanna’s -cottage, and, almost as though unaware of what he did, wandered down -toward the banks of the river. Here, where it joined the lake, the -swirling torrent became calmer, and patches of sedge and water-willow -grew far out into the stream. It was now growing dusk, and the wind -had dropped. As Dietrich paused, standing in the long, dank grass, he -heard a sound, scarcely more than a whisper, borne to him on the dying -breeze: “Dietrich!” and in a moment again, a little louder: “Dietrich!” -A dread, irresistible fascination drew him nearer to the rush-grown -banks, and as he went, he heard again and again that voice, calling his -name with sweet insistence. And now, far down, almost hidden amid the -tangle of willow-boughs and waving blue forget-me-nots that swept the -surface of the dark lake, a face appeared--a lovely face, with a bloom -as delicate as a rose-leaf or the heart of a shell, and all around it -long tresses of red-gold hair floated upon the water. - -“Dietrich,” the sweet voice continued, “I have called thee unto seven -times. Hast thou not heard? Wilt thou not come and save me?” - -Dietrich sprang forward, parting the overhanging boughs, and trying to -get a clearer sight of the vision. “How shall I save thee?” he cried, -almost in spite of himself, while fear and longing struggled together -at his heart, “and who art thou?” - -But lo! the face was gone; only a rustling was heard in the bushes, and -presently a water-snake reared its head among the reeds, and shooting -out its forked tongue, glided towards him. As it came nearer, the same -voice sounded again upon the silent air. “Save me by a kiss,” it said. -But fear now gained the mastery, and with a cry of horror, Dietrich -turned and fled; yet, as his hurrying feet bore him from the water’s -edge, the voice pursued him still. - -“So mightest thou have broken the spell and saved me,” it wailed, “but -thou art afraid! Oh, wretched man, who hast seen my face and fled! And -oh, miserable me! for now none may save me, till the oak-tree be sprung -from the acorn, and the cradle carved from the oak!” - -Almost beside himself, Dietrich reached the top of the river-bank, -and hurried through the wood to his cottage, where his mother found -him late that night--when she came anxiously out to watch for his -coming--lying senseless on the steps of the little porch. - -An illness now laid hold upon him, through which Johanna and Lisbeth -nursed him with untiring care. During the weary weeks of his slow -return to life, Dietrich turned to Johanna as the flower turns to the -sunshine; and, indeed, she was his one ray of comfort, and in her -presence only could he shake off the gloom that overshadowed him. He -was glad enough to obey his mother’s wish, and make Johanna his wife as -soon as might be; and the girl’s loving heart did not shrink from the -lifelong task of cheering this broken-down man. - -So she went to live in the cottage, and in due time a little son, -too, came to brighten their home. Dietrich worked as usual again, but -always showed an unconquerable dislike to going near the river or the -lake; and the sight of a snake was enough to send him into a fit of -shuddering terror, such as none could understand. - -Time went on, and Johanna fancied that he was becoming more like -himself again, till one day he happened to notice, in an open space -beside the cottage, a tiny oak sapling springing up from the grass. - -“Dost thou know how yonder little tree came there?” he asked of his -wife. - -“To be sure,” replied Johanna. “One day, when thou wert sick, and I -was heavy at heart, and came out here for a breath of air, I found an -acorn in the wood, and bethought me of planting it here. ‘If it grows -up,’ I thought, ‘I shall take it as a good omen;’ and now, see how it -thrives!” Johanna laughed merrily, but Dietrich’s face darkened. - -“A good omen,” he murmured. “Who knows? ‘When the oak-tree is sprung -from the acorn----’ I cannot read the saying.” - -That night Lisbeth said to her daughter-in-law: “My son looks again as -he did in those unhappy days. Didst thou not notice the terror-struck -look he wore this evening? Heaven help us!” - -Johanna laughed it off, but in a few days she said to her mother: “Thou -wert right; he goes down to the river-banks again, as he used. What -shall we do?” - -There seemed nothing to be done. Neither his wife nor his little son -could cheer him any longer. Once Johanna saw him stride out to the open -patch, and make as though he would have torn the sapling up by the -roots, but he suddenly stopped, as though an invisible hand had held -him, and turned down through the woods to the river. - -He never came back. They said that he had lost his footing in the -dusk, and fallen into the deep, reedy pool that lies beneath the steep -bank where the river joins the lake. At any rate, he was found there, -drowned and dead; and his death was that of old Lisbeth, too, for she -never raised her head again after the news was brought to her. - -The years rolled on, and young Dietrich, Johanna’s son, grew to be a -man. The oak-tree, too, grew tall and strong, and overshadowed the -little cottage. - -Dietrich the second was a sober-minded fellow, and gave no heed to the -maidens, nor could he be got to think of marriage till he was well on -in life. He followed the calling of ferryman, and ferried people over -the narrow end of the lake, just above the place where the river rushes -out of it again. His mother disliked this work for him, and often tried -to persuade him to give it up, but he had a fondness for the water. -Once he filled her with a great fear. - -“There must be something wrong with my hearing,” said he, “for I often -fancy my name is called across the water, and I hurry back with my -boat, but there is no passenger there.” - -Johanna remembered how Lisbeth had told her that it was a voice calling -from the water that had bewitched the boy’s father, and she determined -her son should not fall a prey to the same fate. - -“Dietrich,” said she, “thou must marry. Thou art past thirty now, and -over grave even for thy years. I am getting old, and need help in the -cottage, too.” - -“Have it as thou wilt, mother,” he replied, with a sober smile; “only -find me a red-haired maiden. I have ever had a fancy for red-haired -women; I do not know whence I got it, for there are not many such -hereabouts.” - -His mother wondered at what seemed to her an idle speech, and one very -unlike her grave son, but she thought little more of it, and presently -told him she thought he could not do better than take their neighbour’s -daughter Alice to wife; “for, if she is not red-haired,” she said, -laughing, “she is red-cheeked, and as merry as a squirrel--a good mate -for a grave fellow like thee.” - -Dietrich said there was no hurry, but at last, for the sake of peace, -he yielded, and was betrothed to Alice. - -But before they could be married a strange thing happened. As he sat -waiting one day on the bank of the lake beside his empty boat, he heard -a sound among the bushes behind him, and looking round, fancied he saw -a gleam of red-gold hair through the leaves. At the same time, he could -have sworn that a voice quite close to him murmured these words: “Is -the oak-tree not yet grown?” - -He sprang up and went in search, as he thought, of a would-be -passenger, but no one was there; only, as he bent his head down to peer -through the under-brush, a slender water-snake glided from amongst it, -almost touching his face with its forked tongue--“as though it would -have kissed him,” he said afterwards. He started back with a shout of -disgust, for he had always had a great dislike to snakes, and snatching -up a stone from the ground, threw it at the creature. But it glided -away untouched; only, as it went, it gave, so Dietrich swore, such a -horrible and piercing scream, that his ears rang with it, and when that -dreadful sound died away, all other sounds, too, ceased for him, and he -was deaf from that hour. - -He went home a graver man than before, and since all attempts to cure -his deafness failed, he told Alice that he would give her back her -word. But the stout-hearted little woman would not hear of it; she -had had many a talk with Johanna, and was persuaded that, since his -adventure, Dietrich needed her more than ever. “No such small matter,” -she said, “would keep her from the man she loved.” - -So these two, also, were wed; though there was but a poor prospect -before them, for Dietrich soon saw that his infirmity would oblige him -to give up his ferryman’s calling, and that just when he most needed -it, for there would before long, he knew, be another mouth to feed in -the little hillside cottage. - -One spring evening, when the rain was falling and the wind swept the -wet branches of the oak-tree right across the roof, Dietrich said -to his wife: “I have a mind to cut down that oak-tree, and sell the -timber, after I have used some to make a cradle for the little one that -is coming. I never could abide the tree, and it now so overshadows the -house that it grows damp for want of sun.” - -“I planted the tree when thy father was ill,” said old Johanna from her -nook by the fire, “and thought that its growth was a good omen for us.” - -“It hath brought us but scant luck, that I can see,” rejoined Alice; -“perhaps it will be a better omen dead than living.” - -So the oak-tree was cut down, and the timber lay for a while and became -seasoned; and when Dietrich’s little son, Dietrich the third, was a -thriving, sturdy babe of a few months, his father one day brought in -the new cradle that he had made him from the fallen oak-tree. - -But Johanna’s life seemed to have been cut down with the tree, for that -winter she failed and died. And who knows but it was well for her; she -was thus spared another grief, for when next spring’s melting snows -had swollen the waters of lake and river, Dietrich, whose deaf ears no -longer heard the warning rush of the neighbouring waterfall, ventured -too near the narrow part of the river, in his haste to get his boat -over to the side where his passengers awaited him, and so both boat -and man were swept down over the fall; nor was poor Dietrich’s body -found for many days. - -Now might it indeed have been thought that young Dietrich the third -would avoid the fatal lake and river; but from the time he had lain, a -rosy babe, in the oaken cradle, he had always been a merry, fearless -little fellow, and the shadow that so long had darkened the cottage -above the river seemed unable to touch him. He became a fisherman; -and when the neighbours shook their heads meaningly, and reminded him -that both his father and grandfather had perished in those waters, he -would answer, with a cheery smile, that this was no reason why harm -should befall him; the luck would turn the third time, he believed; and -besides, he would know how to take care of himself, for his mother’s -sake. There was no denying that he loved the water, and was successful -in his calling, for the fish flocked to his nets as though they had -been driven into them. He was fond of the different creatures that -dwelt among the reedy banks--the water-fowl, the rats, and even the -snakes--and many of them he tamed, so that they would come at his call. -His delight was to sit idly rocking in his boat, as the twilight fell -and the stars came out above the hill, and to listen to the rush of the -river, and the mysterious sounds and calls that echoed across the lake. -Then all sorts of strange fancies filled his mind, and amid the voices -of the night, he thought he could hear one that called his name, in -low, sweet tones, over and over again. This did not frighten him, but -rather brought a throb of joy to his heart; and the voice at last grew -familiar and dear to him, so that he missed it when storm and cold kept -him away from the water for a while. The country-folk told tales, which -his mother tried to keep from his ears, of how his grandfather had -been driven distraught with terror by the voices that he had heard thus -calling from the lake; and he wondered how this might be, and why such -things should frighten one. At last he questioned his mother about it, -and she replied quietly, for she was a cheery woman, and it was easy to -see whence Dietrich got his sunny temper: - -“’Tis true thy grandfather was a prey to his fears and fancies, my son, -but methinks these fears were all in his own mind, and that nothing -from without need have terrified him, if his spirit had but been firm -and cheerful within. Thy father had something of the same sad temper, -and so men said he too was bewitched; but I have this notion, that the -water-folk would hurt none that did not first hurt themselves by their -own timid mind. And so I have never withheld thee from the water, for I -think thou art of different stuff from thy father, my boy.” - -Dietrich nodded his head. “Thou art right, mother,” he said; “and -perhaps these beings that call us are but as ourselves, and need our -pity and our love.” - -A few evenings after this, as he came home through the woods -overhanging the river, he was aware of a rustling among the reeds -and willows beneath him, and a voice--a voice that sounded strangely -familiar to his ear--called from the water: “Ah, Dietrich, Dietrich, -save me!” - -He dashed down to the river’s brink, and, parting the boughs, saw -through the dusk a lovely face gazing up at him--a face with a bloom -upon it like a rose, and surrounded by tresses of red-gold hair, that -had escaped the comb and floated far out upon the water. Two white -hands clung to the branches above, and in an instant Dietrich had -waded into the stream, and clasping the hands in his own, had drawn to -a safe place upon the bank a slender maiden, who stood leaning against -a tree, as she panted for breath and wrung the water-drops from her -long tresses. - -“Dietrich, I thank thee, for thou knowest no fear,” she presently said -in the sweet, low tones that seemed so familiar. - -“Fear!” rejoined the lad, with a laugh, though his voice trembled a -little; “there was no time for that. What had to be done was to save -thee from drowning.” - -“Yet others have felt fear,” said the maiden, raising her deep, clear -eyes to his. He could see them gleam through the deepening twilight, -though he could but indistinctly make out her dress, which seemed -rather different from that of the maidens he was wont to meet in the -district. - -“That is not the sort of fellow I am,” replied Dietrich, with a bold -air; “it were strange if one should pause before giving a helping hand -to any creature in need, let alone so fair a one as thou.” - -He blushed as he spoke, and a strange fancy shot into his mind; but -the maiden’s hapless plight, as she stood wringing the water from her -garments, dismissed all other thoughts, and he continued: “Let me take -thee quickly to my mother, who will dry thy garments and give thee -shelter.” - -“Nay, not to-night, Dietrich,” said the maiden. “I was on my way to -some kinsfolk hard by, when I slipped from the path into the river, and -theirs is the shelter I must seek out.” - -He thought there was a mischievous gleam in her eyes as she spoke, but -she continued more gravely: “Yet give thy mother greeting from me, and -say I would gladly come and see her soon, for my kinsfolk have known -thine this many a day, and I have often longed to climb to the cottage -on the hill.” - -The lad leaned forward eagerly; “Oh! let me lead thee there to-night,” -he pleaded; “it is surely nearer than any other dwelling, and I am loth -to leave thee, alone--and so soon,” he added falteringly. - -“Nay, not now, Dietrich,” she repeated, while the merry smile again -played over her face; “I am wet, and it is late, and my kinsfolk await -me. Only give thy mother my message.” - -“And what name doth she know thee by,” he asked, “since thou knowest -mine so well?” - -“My name is Crystal,” replied the maiden, “but I doubt she will not -know me by it--though I know thine so well,” she added, laughing. - -“Thou art a strange creature,” said the lad, laughing too, for her -gaiety was infectious, “yet a very fair one, and if I may not go with -thee, at least I may ask one boon for having saved thee out of the -river--the boon of a single kiss.” - -But at this Crystal drew back and became grave. “Not from me,” she said -softly; “but if thou wouldst yet do anything for my sake, Dietrich, -or see me again, give thy kiss to the first dumb thing that shall ask -for a caress. That is my last word.” And, turning, she glided so fast -through the trees, that she was out of sight in a moment. Dietrich -went home, a strange turmoil in his heart, and told his mother of the -adventure. - -“And the oddest thing is,” he concluded, “that her face looks to me as -though I had always known it, had always seen and loved those red-gold -tresses coiled about that white brow--and her voice is as the voices -that call to me at night-time over the lake. Dost thou know, indeed, -who she may be, or what these kinsmen are to whom she is going?” - -“I know nothing of them, my son,” replied Alice, “and I do not think we -shall ever know aught. Yet do as she bade thee, for it may bring thee -good fortune.” - -Dietrich spent a sleepless night, and in the morning went down early -to the pool between lake and river, where his boat was moored, and -sat down to mend his nets on the bank. Yet his hands often lay idle, -and his eyes were fixed dreamily upon the reeds before him. Suddenly -a rustling among them roused him with a start, and the next moment -a water-snake glided forth, and paused beside him. He held out his -hand, for the creature looked like one he had tried to tame a while -before. The snake drew nearer across the grass, and presently wound -itself about his leg, raising its head and shooting out its tongue, as -though it would have touched his face. Like a flash, the remembrance of -Crystal’s request came into his mind. The snake’s eyes were fixed upon -his, and drew him with a strange fascination. - -“This is more than I bargained for,” laughed Dietrich aloud, “but -for Crystal’s sake I will do it, as I would do anything--wise or -foolish--that she bade me. Here is a kiss for thee, then, thou cold, -uncanny little creature;” and he kissed the glittering head. - -But his lips had scarcely touched it, when a gleeful shout broke from -the woods behind him, and the well-known sweet voice, ringing with -merriment, cried out: “Dietrich, Dietrich, I am here!” - -He started to his feet, and never knew what became of the snake, for -in one bound he had cleared the bank, and was clasping Crystal by the -hand. She looked fairer than ever in the daylight, which seemed to -lend her form more strength and vitality than it had shown the evening -before. Her red-gold tresses shone with dewdrops, like a flower in the -meadow, and her eyes glowed with life and happiness. - -Dietrich’s wooing was short, for he had known from the first moment -of beholding Crystal, that here was the only woman in the world for -him. And Alice, too, directly she looked into the fair, laughing face, -doubted not that luck, in however mysterious a fashion, had come to -young Dietrich indeed. There was much talk among the country-folk over -the mystery of the young bride’s parentage, and the dower of jewels -that so simple a country lass had brought her husband. - -Not that they were long in his possession, for Crystal could never bear -the sight of them, and they were soon sold, all but one, an ornament of -gold shaped like a little snake, with an emerald head, which Dietrich -would have her keep. What she told him, in the secrecy of their lovers’ -talk, concerning this, and her past existence, will never be known. -What is certain is, that a stately farmhouse, with good store of cattle -and sheep, rose up in place of the old cottage, on the meadow where -the oak-tree had stood. Success followed Dietrich in all he undertook, -and the fish thronged to his net more abundantly than before. But -those voices of old cried to him no more across the lake, for now, -as he turned homewards at evening, it was his dear wife’s voice that -sent forth from the farm-yard upon the hill the soft, familiar call: -“Dietrich!” - - - - -XIX - -THE LITTLE GLASS-MAN - - PART I. THE SUNDAY-CHILD - - PART II. THE COLD HEART - - -The Little Glassman Part I - -[Illustration] - -THE SUNDAY-CHILD - -In the days before railroads were known or tourists ran to and fro -over the face of the earth, the Black Forest was given up, one may -say, to two races of men--the woodmen and the glass-blowers, who even -yet hold their own among the remoter hills and valleys. They have -always been fine fellows, tall and broad-shouldered, as though the -strengthening breath of the mountain pines had given them, from their -youth up, a healthier body, a clearer eye, and a braver spirit than the -inhabitants of the valleys and plains below. The glass-blowers live on -the Baden side of the hills, and theirs was of old the most picturesque -dress--you may see it still in the more out-of-the-way parts of the -forest. Their black jerkins, wide, closely pleated breeches, red -stockings, and pointed hats give them a quaint, somewhat serious -appearance, in keeping with the work which they carry on in the depths -of the woods. There are watchmakers among them as well, who peddle -their goods for sale, far and wide; but the glass-makers, as a rule, -are stay-at-home folk. They are very different from their brethren the -woodmen, who live on the other side of the forest, and spend their -lives felling and hewing their great pine-trees, which they then float -down the Nagold into the Neckar, and from the Neckar into the Rhine. -Then down that mighty river they go, far away into Holland, where the -men of the Black Forest and their long rafts are a familiar sight. They -stop in every city along the banks of the Rhine, to see if any one will -purchase their stout beams and planks; but the longest and stoutest -they keep for the _Mynheers_, who buy them at a high price to build -their ships with. Now these raftsmen are used to a rough and wandering -life; it is joy to them to spin down the stream upon their tree-trunks, -and sorrow to climb the bank homewards again. And their holiday dress, -too, is quite different from that of the glass-makers. Their jerkins -are of dark linen, with wide, green braces crossed over their broad -chests; their breeches are of black leather, and from one pocket, as -a sign of their calling, an inch-rule is always to be seen peeping -forth. But their chief pride and joy are their boots, the highest, most -likely, that are worn in any part of the world, for they can be drawn -up two spans and more above the knee, and the raftsmen can wade through -three or four feet of water without getting wet. - -Not so very long ago, the people of the forest still believed in -spirits that haunted the woods, and the superstition died hard. -Strangely enough, the legends clothe these supernatural inhabitants -of the woods in just the same garments, varying with the district, -that the men of flesh and blood wear. So they tell that the little -Glass-man, a kindly spirit, only about four feet high, was never to be -seen save in a broad-brimmed, pointed hat, with little black jerkin, -wide breeches, and red stockings. But Dutch Michael, who haunted the -other side of the forest, seems to have been a huge, broad-shouldered -fellow, in the dress of the raftsmen; and many who are supposed to have -seen him, swear that they would have been sorry to pay out of their own -pockets, the price of the calf-skins that made his boots,--“for they -were so big that an ordinary man could have stood up to his neck in -them,” they say, “and this is the sober truth.” - -There is a wonderful story of the dealings of these wood-spirits with a -young fellow of the Black Forest, which I will tell just as I heard it. - -There lived then, in the forest, a widow, Dame Barbara Munk, whose -husband had been a charcoal-burner, and supplied the glass-makers with -the fuel they needed for their work. After his death, she kept her -son, a boy of sixteen, to the same calling as his father; and young -Peter Munk, though a well-grown lad, at first made no objection, for -he had always seen his father looking black and ugly, as he crouched, -the whole week long, over his smoky kiln, or went abroad to sell his -coals, an object of disgust to every one; so that it never came into -his head to mind such a thing. But a charcoal-burner has a great deal -of time for thought, about himself and others; and as Peter Munk sat -by his kiln, the dark trees, and the deep silence of the forest round -about him, often inclined his heart to tears and nameless yearnings. -There was something--he knew not what--that both saddened and angered -him. After thinking it over for a long time, he at last came to the -conclusion that it was his calling. - -“A lonely, black-faced charcoal-burner!” he said to himself; “it is but -a poor life. The glass-blowers, the watchmakers, even the musicians -who play in the tavern on Sunday evenings, are all thought of some -consequence. And yet if Peter Munk, washed and dressed in his best, -with his father’s holiday jerkin and silver buttons, and a pair of new -red stockings, were to make his appearance, and some one behind, seeing -the new stockings and the upright gait, were to say: ‘Who is yon fine -lad?’ I am sure that directly he passed me by and caught sight of my -face, he would add: ‘Oh, it is but “Coal-Munk Peter”!’” - -The raftsmen, too, from the other side of the forest, excited his envy. -When these giants of the woods went by in their grand clothes, with -half-a-hundredweight of silver buttons, clasps, and chains upon them; -when they stood watching the dance, with widespread legs and important -faces, and swore in Dutch, and smoked yard-long Cologne pipes, like the -richest of the _Mynheers_, then he would think that the lot of such men -must be the happiest on earth. But when these fortunate beings felt -in their pockets and brought out handfuls of thaler-pieces, tossing up -for sixpenny-bits, and staking five guldens here, and ten there, Peter -would turn quite bewildered, and slink sadly away to his hut; for he -saw many of these master wood-cutters play away more in one evening -than poor father Munk had been wont to earn in a year. There were, in -particular, three of these men whom he thought so wonderful; he did -not know which of them to admire most. One was a big, stout, red-faced -fellow, known as “fat Ezekiel,” and supposed to be the richest man in -all the country round. He went twice a year to Amsterdam to sell wood -for building, and was always lucky enough to sell it for a higher price -than any one else, so that, whereas the others had to come home on -foot, he always drove back in great style. - -The other was the tallest, thinnest man in the whole forest, nick-named -“long Shuffler,” and Peter envied him because of his extraordinary -impudence. He contradicted the most important people, and always took -up more room in the tavern, however crowded it was, than four of the -stoutest among the other guests; for he must needs sit with both elbows -on the table, or draw up one of his long legs before him on the bench; -yet no one ever dared gainsay him, for he had endless sums of money. - -But the third was a young, handsome fellow, and the best dancer for -miles round, so that he was called the “king of the dancing-floor.” He -had been quite poor, and had worked for one of the master wood-cutters, -but all at once he became as rich as any of them. Some said he had -found a pot of gold under an ancient pine-tree; others that he had been -spearing fish, as the raftsmen often do, and that, not far from Bingen -on the Rhine, he had fished up on his spear a great roll of gold -pieces, and that the roll belonged to the famous Nibelung-treasure, -which, as every one knows, lies buried there. Be this as it may, he -certainly grew rich all of a sudden, and was looked up to by young and -old, as though he were a prince. - -Coal-Munk Peter often thought of these three men, as he sat alone in -the pine-woods. All three, indeed, had one and the same ugly fault, -which won them every man’s hatred--and this was their inhuman avarice -and hard-heartedness towards their debtors and the poor about them; yet -the people of the Black Forest are kind-hearted as a rule. But so it -goes in this world--if they were hated for their meanness, they were -thought much of for their wealth, for who else could throw money about -as though they shook it down from the fir-trees? - -“I can’t go on like this,” said Peter sadly to himself one morning--the -day before had been a holiday, and the ale-house full of people--“if -the luck doesn’t turn soon, I shall do myself a harm! If only I were -rich and respected, like fat Ezekiel, or bold and powerful, like the -long Shuffler, or famous, like the king of the dancing-floor, and could -throw the musicians thalers instead of pence, as he does! Where can the -fellow get all his money from?” - -He thought over all the means he had heard of, whereby men make money, -but could not seem to hit on any good ones. At last he remembered the -tales about the folk who had been enriched, in old days, by Dutch -Michael and the little Glass-man. In his father’s lifetime their hut -had often been visited by poor people like themselves; then the talk -had always been of rich men, and of how they had come by their riches, -and in these tales the little Glass-man often played a part. When he -thought hard, he could almost remember the verse which had to be spoken -in the “Pine-thicket” in the midst of the forest, to make him appear. -It began thus:-- - - “O Treasure-keeper in the forest green, - Thine age is many hundred years--this land - Is all thine own, wherever pine-trees stand----” - -But however he cudgelled his memory, he could not remember another -line. He was often on the point of asking some old man among the -neighbours how the verse ended; but a certain timidity withheld him -from betraying his thoughts to any one; and besides, he came to the -conclusion that the legend of the little Glass-man could not be widely -known, or the verse either, for there were not many rich people in the -district, and why should not his own father, or any of the other poor -men, have tried their luck? At last he led his mother to speak about -the little man. She began by telling him nothing but what he already -knew; nor could she remember any but the first line of the charm; but -she wound up by saying that the spirit only appeared to persons who -were born on a Sunday between eleven and two o’clock. He himself, she -added, was one of the right people, as he had been born exactly at noon -on a Sunday. - -When Coal-Munk Peter heard this, he was beside himself with joy and -eagerness to attempt the adventure. He thought it might, perhaps, be -enough to have been born on a Sunday, and to know part of the charm; -so one day, when he had sold his charcoal, he did not light the kiln -again, but put on his father’s holiday jerkin, his new red stockings -and Sunday hat, took his five-foot staff of blackthorn in his hand, -and bade his mother farewell. - -“I must go to the town,” he said, “for they will soon be drawing the -conscription, to see who is to serve his time in the army, and I want -to remind the gentlemen in office that thou art a widow, and I thine -only son.” - -His mother let him go, saying it was a wise step to take. But it was -not to the town, but to the “Pine-thicket,” that he took his way. The -part of the woods so called lies on the highest slopes of the Black -Forest hills, and there is not a single house, or even a hut, for the -space of a two hours’ journey all around; for the superstitious people -believe that it is not a safe place, and though the pine-trees there -stand high and splendid, they are very seldom cut down, for mishaps -have often befallen the wood-cutters when they have been working -there. Now it has been an axe that has flown from its handle and cut -deep into a man’s foot; or again, a tree they were felling has fallen -over suddenly, and carried the workmen down with it, wounding, or -even killing them. And one could only have used these fine trees for -fire-wood, in any case; for the raftsmen would never put a trunk from -the “thicket” into their rafts, because of the saying that men and wood -came to grief together, if a “thicket-stem” were with them upon the -water. So it came about that the trees in the “thicket” stood so high -and so close together that even at noontide it was almost as dark as -night there; and Peter Munk felt quite eerie as he entered that deep -shadow, where he heard no voice, no sound of an axe, and no foot-fall -save his own. Even the birds seemed to avoid that thick darkness among -the fir-trees. - -Peter had now reached the highest point among the forest hills, and -stood under a tree of mighty girth, for which a Dutch shipbuilder -would have given many hundred guldens. “Surely it will be here the -Treasure-keeper dwells,” he thought, and taking off his broad Sunday -hat, he made his best bow to the tree, cleared his throat, and -said with a trembling voice: “I wish you a right good evening, Mr. -Glass-man.” But there was no answer, and everything around remained as -silent as before. “Perhaps I must say the charm first,” he thought, and -stammered forth the words: - - “O Treasure-keeper in the forest green, - Thine age is many hundred years--this land - Is all thine own, wherever pine-trees stand----” - -As he spoke these lines, he beheld, with much alarm, a strange, tiny -figure peeping out from behind the tree; it looked just like the -description he had heard of the Glass-man--the little black jerkin, red -stockings, and pointed hat; he even thought he saw the pale, but wise -and shrewd little face he had heard tell of. But, alas! no sooner had -it shown itself than it disappeared again. - -“Mr. Glass-man,” called Peter, after some hesitation, “pray do not take -me for a fool! If you think I didn’t see you, you are much mistaken; I -saw you peep from behind the tree, plain enough.” - -Still there was no answer; only he fancied he caught the sound of a -faint, hoarse chuckle from behind the tree. At last impatience got the -better of fear. “Wait a bit, thou little man,” he cried, “I’ll have -thee yet!” And he sprang with one bound to the other side of the tree, -but no “Treasure-keeper in the forest green” was there--only a little -squirrel that dashed up the tree as he approached. - -Peter Munk shook his head; he saw well enough that he had partly -succeeded with the spell, and that very likely he only lacked the last -line of the verse, to be able to make the little Glass-man appear; but -think as he might, he could not think of that. - -The little squirrel ran down to the lower boughs of the tree, and -seemed to look at him encouragingly--or mockingly? It cleaned its paws, -whisked its bushy tail, and peered at him with shrewd eyes, till he -felt quite afraid of being alone with the creature, for one minute it -seemed to have a man’s head, with a pointed hat on it, and the next -it looked just like an ordinary squirrel, except that it wore red -stockings and black shoes on its hind feet. In short, though it seemed -a merry creature, it made Peter’s flesh creep, for he felt there was -something uncanny about it. He hurried away faster than he had come, -for the darkness seemed to be growing deeper and deeper, and the -trees to be standing thicker and thicker about him, so that at last -he grew positively terrified, and broke into a run; nor did he feel -easy until he heard a dog bark, and saw the smoke rising from a hut -among the trees. But as he approached the hut and noticed the dress -of its inmates, he found that, in his fright, he had run in the wrong -direction, and come among the raftsmen instead of the glass-makers. The -people in the hut were wood-cutters--an old man, his son--the master of -the house--and some grandchildren of various ages. When Peter begged -for shelter over night, they welcomed him kindly, without asking his -name or that of his native place, and presently gave him a drink of -cider, and served up for supper a fine grouse, which is the greatest of -dainties among the Black Forest folk. - -After supper the family gathered round the great pine-torches, the -women spinning, the men smoking, or carving spoons and forks out of -spare bits of wood. Out in the forest a violent storm was howling and -raging among the pines; and now and then heavy blows were heard, as -though whole trees were being snapped off and hurled to the ground. The -foolhardy youths of the party would have run out into the forest to -witness this splendid and terrible sight, but the grandfather held them -back with stern word and glance. - -“I would not advise any one to go out at yon door to-night,” said he. -“By Heaven! he would never return, for Dutch Michael is busy hewing -himself a new raft in the forest.” - -The children stared at him; though they had doubtless heard something -of Dutch Michael before, yet they knew too little to satisfy them, and -now begged their grandfather to tell them the whole tale about him for -once. And Peter Munk, too, who had only heard of him vaguely on the -other side of the hills, joined in, and asked the old man what the -truth about him was. - -“He is the master of these woods,” returned the grandfather; “and if -you, at your age, do not know this, it proves you must belong to the -other side of the ‘Pine-thicket,’ or to some yet more distant place. -But I will tell you the tale, as it goes in this district, of Dutch -Michael. - -“A hundred years ago--so my grandfather used to say--there were no -worthier people on earth than those of the Black Forest. But now, -since so much money has come into the land, men have grown bad and -dishonest. The lads dance and sing on Sundays, and swear so, that ’tis -dreadful to hear! In other days it was not thus; and though Dutch -Michael should look in at the window this very minute, I say, as I -often have already, that all this evil is his fault. A hundred years -ago, then, and more, there was a rich master woodman, who employed -many work-people, and sold his stuff far down the Rhine, and his trade -was blessed with prosperity, for he was a pious man. One evening there -came to his door a man whose like he had never seen before; he wore -the dress of the Black Forest lads, but he was a good head taller -than any of them; no one would have believed that such a giant could -be. He asked the master for work, and the latter, seeing how strong -he was, and fitted for heavy tasks, agreed with him for a price, and -engaged him. Such a workman that master had never had before. For -felling trees, Michael was as good as three men, and when it took six -together to lift one end of a trunk, Michael could raise the other all -by himself. But when he had cut down trees for half a year, he went one -day to the master and said: ‘I have had enough of hewing wood now, and -should like to see whither my tree-trunks go. How would it be if thou -shouldst let me travel with one of the rafts?’ - -“‘I will not stand in thy way, Michael, if thou art fain to see the -world a bit,’ the woodman answered. ‘To be sure, I need strong fellows -like thee for the tree-felling, and on the rafts it is rather skill -that is needed; but let it be so for once.’ - -“And so it was. The raft which he was to take down the river had eight -divisions, and the last was made up of the stoutest roof-beams. But see -what happened. The evening before they started, big Michael brought -down eight more beams to the river, the thickest and longest that had -ever been seen, and he bore each on his shoulder as lightly as though -it had been a raftsman’s pole, so that all who saw it were taken aback. -Where he had hewn these beams no one knows to this day. The master -woodman laughed in his heart when he saw them, for he knew what such -beams were worth. But Michael only said: ‘There, these are for me to -stand upon, I could never manage upon yonder little chips.’ His master -would have given him a pair of raftsman’s boots as a reward, but he -threw them aside, and brought out a pair, such as none had ever seen -before; my grandfather swore they were five feet long and weighed over -a hundred pounds. - -“The raft started off, and if Michael had astonished the wood-cutters -before, it was the raftsmen’s turn to be amazed now. For the raft, -instead of going more slowly, as they expected, because of the huge -beams, flew along like an arrow as soon as they got into the Neckar; -and when there was a bend in the river, where the men usually had -trouble in keeping their rafts in mid-stream, and away from shoals and -sand-banks, Michael would leap into the river and push them clear of -every hindrance; then, when they reached an open stretch of water, he -would spring on to the foremost raft, and bidding the others put their -poles aside, would give one mighty shove into the gravel with his huge -beam, and away sped the raft, so that trees, banks, and houses seemed -to fly past on either hand. By this means, they came in half their -usual time to Cologne upon the Rhine, where they had always been used -to sell their cargo of wood; but now Michael spoke thus: - -“‘A nice set of traders ye are, and well ye understand your own -interests! Do ye think the men of Cologne need all the wood for -themselves that comes out of the Black Forest? Nay, but they buy it -of us half-price, and then sell it for far more to Holland. Let us -sell the small beams here, and go on to Holland with the big ones; and -whatever we get over the usual price, we will pocket for ourselves.’ - -“So spoke the crafty Michael, and the rest heard him gladly, some -because they wished to see Holland, others because they were greedy -for the money. Only one was honest, and warned his comrades against -risking their master’s goods, or deceiving him about their price; but -they paid no heed to his words, only Dutch Michael did not forget them. -So they went on down the Rhine with their wood, and Michael steered the -raft, and brought it quickly to Rotterdam. There they were soon offered -four times the usual price for the cargo, and Michael’s huge beams, in -particular, were sold for much money. - -“When the Black Forest lads saw all that gold, they were beside -themselves with joy. Michael divided it into four parts; one he kept -for the master, and the other three were for the men. And now they went -into the taverns, with sailors and other bad company, and guzzled or -played away their money. But the honest man who had given them good -counsel, Michael sold to a kidnapping shipowner, and nothing more was -ever heard of him. - -“From that time forth Holland was the paradise of all the Black Forest -lads, and Dutch Michael their king. It was long before the master -woodman found out the trick; and meanwhile money, swearing, bad -customs, drunkenness and gambling came up into this land from Holland. -When the story leaked out, Dutch Michael was nowhere to be found. Yet -he is not dead. For more than a hundred years he has haunted this -forest, and people say he has helped many men to get rich, but only at -the cost of their own poor souls,--I will say no more. Yet this much -is certain, that on these stormy nights he still picks out the finest -trees from the ‘Pine-thicket,’ where no man may hew wood, and my father -once saw him break off a stem four feet thick as if it had been a reed. -These he gives to the misguided folk who turn away from righteous -dealing, and go to him for help; then they take their raft down to the -water at midnight, and float away with Dutch Michael to Holland. But if -I were king there, I would have him shot to pieces, for all ships that -have a single one of Dutch Michael’s beams in them will go down some -day. That is why we hear of all these shipwrecks; for how else should -a fine, strong ship, as big as a church, come to harm upon the water? -But every time that Dutch Michael hews a fresh tree during a stormy -night in the ‘Pine-thicket,’ one of his old beams cracks, and the ship -springs a leak, and goes to the bottom with all hands. That is the -story of Dutch Michael, and true it is that all the evil in the Black -Forest may be traced to him.” - -“Oh, he can make one rich, sure enough,” the old man added in a -mysterious whisper, “but I would not take anything from him for -the world. I would not be in the shoes of fat Ezekiel, or the long -Shuffler--and they say the king of the dancing-floor, too, has sold -himself to him.” - -The storm had died away while the old man told his tale, and now the -maidens lit their lamps and went to bed. The men laid a sack full of -leaves upon the bench near the stove, as a pillow for Peter Munk, and -wished him good-night. But Peter had never had such restless dreams as -upon this night. One moment he thought he saw the black-browed giant, -Dutch Michael, tearing open the window and thrusting in his long arm to -offer him a purse full of gold pieces, which he chinked with a pleasant -sound; and the next, it was the kindly-faced little Glass-man who was -riding about the room on a huge green bottle, and then Peter seemed to -hear the same hoarse chuckle again, that he had heard in the forest. -Presently some one muttered in his left ear: - - “In Holland there is gold; - Ye can have it, an’ ye will; - For a trifle it is sold-- - Gold, gold!” - -And again, in his right ear sounded the little song about the -Treasure-keeper in the green woods; and a gentle voice added: “Foolish -Coal-Peter, foolish Peter Munk, canst find no rhyme to ‘green?’ and yet -art born at noon on a Sunday! Rhyme, silly Peter, rhyme!” - -He moaned and groaned, and tried to think of a rhyme, but as he had -never in his life made one waking, it was not likely he should find one -in his sleep. But when he awoke at dawn, he could not help thinking his -dream a very strange one, and sitting down at the table, with his head -in his hands, he began to ponder over the whispers he had heard, and -which still rang in his ears. - -“Rhyme, foolish Peter, rhyme!” he kept saying to himself, and tapped -his forehead with his finger, yet no rhyme came forth. But as he sat -there, puzzling over a rhyme to “green,” three lads went by the house, -and one was singing: - - “I stood upon the hill-top green, - And gazed into the vale below, - For there it was I last had seen - Her----” - -Peter Munk waited to hear no more, but springing from his chair and out -at the door like an arrow, he caught the singer roughly by the arm. - -“Stay, friend,” he cried; “only tell me! what didst thou rhyme to -‘green’?” - -But the other was startled and angered, and shaking himself free, -rejoined: “A plague on thee for a rude fellow! What business is it of -thine? Take that!” And he gave him a stinging box on the ear, which his -comrades followed up with more blows. - -Poor Peter sank to his knees, quite stunned. “I pray you to forgive -me,” he moaned; “I meant no harm, and was but over anxious about a -certain matter. But since I have got the blows now, will ye not also -plainly tell me the words of your song?” - -At this they began to laugh and mock at him; but at last the singer -consented to repeat the words, after which they went on, laughing and -singing, upon their way. - -“‘Seen,’ then,” said poor Peter, as he got up, feeling quite sore, -“‘seen’ with ‘green.’ Now, Mr. Glass-man, we will have another word -together.” - -He went back to the hut, fetched his hat and long staff, and bidding -his hosts farewell, took his way homeward towards the “Pine-thicket.” -He went along slowly and thoughtfully, for he still had to compose -his verse; but as he began to enter the “thicket,” and the trees -grew higher and thicker about him, he thought he had found it, and -leapt into the air for joy. At that very moment a gigantic man in a -raftsman’s dress, and with a staff as long as a mast in his hand, -stepped from behind the trees. Peter Munk’s knees shook beneath him -as he saw this apparition walking slowly by his side, for he thought -to himself: “This is no other than Dutch Michael.” The dreadful being -never said a word, and from time to time Peter shot a terrified glance -up at him. He was a good head taller than any one he had ever seen; his -face was no longer young, neither was it old, yet it was deeply seamed -and wrinkled; he wore a linen jerkin, and Peter easily recognised the -huge boots he had heard of in the story, which were drawn up over his -leather breeches. - -“Peter Munk,” said the King of the Forest at last, in a deep, hollow -voice, “what art thou doing here in the ‘Pine-thicket’?” - -“Good morrow, countryman,” answered Peter, who wished to appear -undismayed, though he was trembling all over; “I am going homewards -through the ‘Pine-thicket.’” - -“Peter Munk,” rejoined the other, with a dreadful, piercing glance at -him, “thy way home does not lie through this wood.” - -“Well, perhaps not exactly,” stammered the youth, “but it is a hot day, -and I thought it would be cooler here.” - -“No lies, thou Coal-Peter!” thundered Dutch Michael, “or I will fell -thee to the earth with my staff. Dost think I did not see thee creep -begging to yon little man?” he added more quietly. “Go to! that was -a silly trick, and it is a good thing thou didst not know the charm. -The little fellow is a niggard, and gives but scantily, and he to whom -he gives is never merry all his life long. Peter, thou art a poor -wight, and from my soul I pity thee; such a fine, jolly lad as thou, -that mightest make something of thy life--and thou art to spend it in -charcoal-burning! Where others can shake heavy thalers and ducats out -of their sleeves, thou canst scarce spare a beggarly sixpence. ’Tis a -wretched life!” - ---“Thou art right, it is indeed--a wretched life!” - ---“Well, I will not be hard on thee,” the terrible Michael went on; “I -have helped many a good fellow in his need--thou wouldst not be the -first. Tell me, then, how many hundred thalers mightest thou want to -begin with?” - -As he spoke, he rattled the money in his huge pockets, so that it -chinked as Peter had heard it in his dream. But the lad’s heart -fluttered painfully as he listened to the tempter’s words, and he grew -hot and cold all at once, for Dutch Michael did not look the sort of -person who would give away money out of sheer kindness of heart and ask -for nothing in return. The mysterious words of the old grandfather, -about the men who had grown suddenly rich, returned to his mind, and -urged by a strange uneasiness and fear, he cried out: - -“My best thanks to you, sir; but I would rather have nothing to do with -you, and I know well enough who you are;” and ran off as fast as his -legs could carry him. - -But the wood-spirit still kept alongside of him with mighty strides, -muttering in hollow, threatening tones: “Thou wilt yet repent it, -Peter. I see it written on thy brow--I read it in thine eyes--that -thou art not to escape me. Do not run so fast; give heed to one more -sensible word of advice, for yonder is my boundary-line.” - -But when Peter heard this, and caught sight of a small ditch not far -off, he hurried faster than ever towards it, so that Michael was -obliged to go faster too, and pursued him with threats and curses. -With a desperate leap Peter cleared the ditch, just as he saw his -enemy raising the great staff to crush him. It fell with a crash, but -Peter was already safe, and the staff broke into splinters, as upon an -invisible wall, so that a long piece of it fell over close to the lad. -He picked it up in triumph, to throw it back to its churlish owner, but -as he did so, he felt it writhe in his hand, and saw, to his horror, -that it had changed into a great snake, which was already shooting out -its forked tongue, and with glittering eyes, prepared to dart up into -his face. He let the creature go, but it had twisted about his arm, and -he could scarcely have escaped being attacked by it, but that a large -hawk suddenly swooped down from above, seized the serpent by the head, -and rose with it into the air. - -Dutch Michael, who was looking on from the other side of the ditch, -raged and swore worse than ever, as he beheld his snake carried off -by a more powerful enemy. Exhausted and trembling, Peter went on his -way. The path grew steeper, the landscape wilder, and after a bit he -found himself once more on the mountain-top, under the huge fir-tree. -He again made his bow to the invisible Glass-man, and then began -immediately: - - “O Treasure-keeper in the forest green, - Thine age is many hundred years--this land - Is all thine own, wherever pine-trees stand; - By none save Sunday children art thou seen.” - -“Thou hast not got it quite right; but since it is thou, Coal-Munk -Peter, I will let it pass,” said a gentle, low voice beside him. - -He stared about him in amaze, and there, beneath a tall pine, sat a -little old man, in black jerkin and red stockings, with the broad, -pointed hat on his head. He had a kind, delicately cut face, and a -little beard, as soft as a spider’s web; he was smoking, strange to -say, a blue glass pipe, and as Peter went nearer, he saw that all his -clothes too, and his hat, and his shoes, were made of coloured glass, -but it was pliable, as though it were still warm, and fitted like cloth -to every turn and movement of the little man’s body. - -“Thou hast met that scoundrel, Dutch Michael, then?” said the little -man, making an odd, hoarse sound in his throat between almost every -word. “He tried to frighten thee badly, but I got his magic whip away -from him, and he shall never have it back again!” - -“Yea, Master Treasure-keeper,” answered Peter, with a deep bow, “I was -dreadfully frightened. But doubtless you were his lordship the hawk, -who killed the snake for me. I am very much obliged to you. But I was -coming to get some advice from you, for things are going very poorly -with me. A charcoal-burner does not get on very well in life, and as I -am still young, I thought I might manage to better myself. Specially -when I look at others, who seem to have got on so easily. Take fat -Ezekiel, or the ‘dancers’ king,’ for instance; with them money is as -plentiful as hay.” - -“Peter,” said the little man very gravely, and as he spoke he blew the -smoke from his pipe far out before him--“Peter, never speak to me of -them. What does it advantage them to _seem_ happy here for a few years, -and then to be all the more miserable afterwards? Thou must not despise -thy calling. Thy father and grandfather were honest folk, and yet they -followed the same. Peter Munk, I hope it is not love of idleness that -has brought thee to me.” - -Peter was alarmed at the little man’s serious tone, and reddened as he -answered: “Nay, Master Treasure-keeper, idleness, I know full well, is -the beginning of all evil; but you cannot blame me if another calling -pleases me better than my own. A charcoal-burner is so very low, you -see, and glass-blowers, and raftsmen, and watchmakers are all of more -consequence.” - -“Pride often goes before a fall,” answered the little master of the -forest, rather more kindly. “Ye are a strange race, ye sons of men. -You are scarcely ever quite content with the state of life to which -you are born and brought up! And what is the use of wishing? Wert thou -a glass-maker, thou wouldst wish to be a master woodman; and if that -were granted thee, thou wouldst covet the forester’s place, or the -Mayor’s house! But let be; if thou wilt promise to work diligently, -I will help thee to something better, Peter. I am wont to give every -Sunday child that finds its way to me three wishes. The first two are -granted without question; the third I can deny if it is a foolish one. -So now thou mayst wish for something--but let it be something good and -useful, Peter.” - -“Hurrah! you are a capital little Glass-man!” shouted Peter, “rightly -called the Treasure-keeper, for you have treasures indeed in your hand. -And so I may wish for whatever my heart desires? Then I will begin -by wishing to dance better than the ‘king of the dancing-floor,’ and -always to have as much money in my pocket as fat Ezekiel.” - -“Thou fool!” exclaimed the little man angrily. “What a miserable wish -is this! To dance well, and to have money for gambling! Art thou not -ashamed, foolish Peter, of being so blind to thine own welfare? What -use is it to thyself, or thy poor mother, that thou shouldst be able -to dance? What use is money, when by thine own wish, it is but to be -spent in the tavern, and will stay there, like that of the miserable -‘dancers’ king’? So all the week long thou wilt still have nought, and -starve as before. I will give thee one more free wish, but be careful -to choose something more sensible.” - -Peter scratched his head, and resumed after some hesitation: “Well, -then, I will wish for the finest and richest glass-hut in all the Black -Forest, with its belongings, and all the money that is needed to carry -on the work.” - -“Nothing else?” said the little man anxiously. “Oh, Peter, nothing -else?” - -“Well, you might add a horse and a little cart.” - -“Oh thou foolish Coal-Munk Peter!” cried the little fellow, and threw -his glass pipe in a rage against a neighbouring tree, so that it broke -into a hundred pieces. - -“Horses, carts!” he continued. “Wisdom, I tell thee, wisdom and plain -common sense, and insight--these thou shouldst have wished for, not -horses and carts! Well, do not look so downcast; we will try and see -that thou dost not come to harm, even so, for the second wish was not -altogether foolish. A good glass-hut keeps master and man alive; only -thou shouldst have wished for knowledge and sense to carry it on, then -horses and carts would have followed of themselves.” - -“But, Master Treasure-keeper,” said Peter, “I have still a wish left. I -can wish for wisdom with that, if it is really as indispensable as you -think.” - ---“Nay, stop there! Thou wilt find thyself in many a scrape yet, that -will make thee glad thou hast a wish still left. Now go home; and -here,” continued the little spirit of the pine-wood, drawing a purse -out of his pocket, “here are two thousand gulden, and let that suffice; -do not come asking me for money again, or I should be obliged to hang -thee from the highest fir-tree. That has been my rule since I have -dwelt in this forest. Three days ago old Winkfritz died, who owned the -large glass-hut in the lower forest. Go there to-morrow morning, and -make a proper bid for the business. Look to thyself, be diligent, and I -will pay thee a visit now and again, and give thee a helping hand, and -wise counsel, since thou didst not ask for wisdom thyself. But I tell -thee again, and I am in earnest, thy first wish was bad. Beware of the -ale-house, Peter; it has never yet done any one good for long!” - -As he spoke, the little man had drawn a new pipe of fine glass from his -pocket, and stuffed it with dry pine-needles. He now put it between -his little toothless gums, and producing a large burning-glass, he -stepped into the sun and lit his pipe. Having done this, he shook Peter -kindly by the hand, and after giving him a few more good counsels, as -they went along, he began to puff and blow so rapidly at his pipe, that -he ended by completely disappearing in a cloud of smoke, which smelt -of real Dutch tobacco, and faded slowly away among the tops of the -fir-trees. - -When Peter got home, he found his mother very anxious about him, for -the good woman had quite made up her mind that her son had been drawn -for a soldier, and already carried off. But he was in high spirits, and -told her that he had met a kind friend in the forest, who had procured -him money to start a new business, instead of the charcoal-burning. And -though his mother had lived for thirty years in a charcoal-burner’s -hut, and had been as used to blackened faces as a miller’s wife is to -floury ones, still she was foolish and proud enough to despise her -former condition as soon as Peter promised her a more prosperous one, -and said “that now, as the mother of a man who owned a glass-hut, she -was something above the neighbours, Betty and Grete, and should take a -front seat in church, among the respectable people.” - -Peter soon struck a bargain with the inheritors of the glass-hut the -little man had told him of; he kept on the workmen he found there, and -let the glass-making go on night and day. At first the work pleased -him. He went down to the workshop at his convenience, and walked about -it with an important air, his hands in his pockets, looking to right -and left, and making this and that remark, over which his work-people -often laughed not a little. His greatest pleasure was to see the glass -blown, and he would often set to work himself, and form the strangest -figures out of the soft, warm mass. But after a while he tired of it, -and went to the hut, first only an hour each day, then only every two -days, and at last only once a week, while his workmen did as they -pleased. Now his fondness for the tavern was to blame for all this. -The Sunday after his return from the “Pine-thicket,” he went there -as usual, and there was the “king” already bounding about upon the -dancing-floor; and there sat fat Ezekiel, too, his tankard before him, -rattling the dice and casting for crown thalers. Peter’s hands jumped -to his pockets, that he might see if the little Glass-man had kept -his word; and lo! they were bulging with silver and gold coins. His -legs, too, twitched and itched, as though they were fain to jump and -dance; and when the first dance was over, he stood up with his partner -opposite the “dancing-king,” and when the latter sprang three feet -into the air, Peter leaped four, and when his opponent cut all sorts -of nimble and dainty steps, Peter twisted and turned his feet about so -much more rapidly, that the beholders could hardly contain themselves -for wonder and admiration. But when people heard that Peter had bought -a glass-hut, and saw how he scattered sixpences among the musicians -whenever he went by, there was no end to the general astonishment. -Some said he had found a treasure in the forest, others that he had -come into an inheritance, but one and all honoured him, and looked up -to him, only because he had money. He played away as much as twenty -guldens that evening, and yet the coins rattled in his pocket, as -though there were at least a hundred thalers left there. When Peter -saw how much he was respected, he was beside himself with pride and -joy. He threw his money about with both hands, and gave generously of -it to the poor. Did he not know by experience how bitter is the sting -of poverty? The “dancing king” was cast quite into the shade by Peter’s -superhuman talents, and Peter was now called “the dancers’ emperor.” - -The most reckless of the Sunday gamblers did not make such wagers as he -did, but neither did they lose so much. But, then, the more he lost, -the more he won, and this happened just as he had begged the little -Glass-man that it might. He had wished “always to have as much money in -his pocket as fat Ezekiel,” and it was to this very man that he always -lost his money; so when he lost twenty or thirty gulden at a stroke, -there they were in his pocket again, the very moment Ezekiel swept them -into his own. Presently he went further in betting and gambling than -the most daring ne’er-do-weels in all the forest, and he was oftener -called “gambling Peter” than “the dancers’ emperor,” for he played on -most work-days as well as Sundays now. Hence his business began to go -badly, and this was the fault of Peter’s lack of wisdom. He had as much -glass made as there possibly could be, but with the business, he had -not bought the secret of disposing of his wares to the best advantage. -At last he did not know what to do with all his unsold glass, and got -rid of it half-price, to pedlars, only that he might have enough to pay -his workmen their wage. - -One evening, as he was coming home from the ale-house, and thinking -with shame and distress--despite all the wine he had drunk to cheer -himself up--of the failure of his fortunes, he perceived that some one -was walking beside him, and when he looked round, behold, it was the -little Glass-man! - -Then Peter broke out in anger against him, and with boastful, daring -words, swore that the little man was to blame for all his troubles. - -“What use are my horse and cart to me now?” he cried. “What use are my -hut and all my glass? Even when I was only a poor charcoal-burner’s -lad, I had a happier life and fewer cares. Now I do not even know at -what hour the sheriff will come and value my goods, and sell me up -because of my debts!” - -“So,” answered the little man, “so! I am to blame if thou art unhappy? -Are these the thanks I get for all my benefits? Was it I who told thee -to make such foolish wishes? Thou wouldst be a glass-maker, and didst -not even know whither to sell thy wares! Did I not warn thee to frame -thy wishes carefully? Common sense, Peter, common sense and knowledge -were lacking to thee.” - -“Sense and knowledge, indeed!” shouted Peter. “I am as sensible a -lad as any, and I will prove it to thee, little Glass-man!” And with -these words he seized the little man by the collar, and yelled: “I -have thee now, have I not, thou Treasure-keeper! And now I will wish -my third wish, and thou shalt grant it. I wish, then, this moment, for -two hundred thousand hard thalers, and a house, and--ah!” he screamed, -for the little man of the woods had changed into burning glass, and -was scorching Peter’s hand like a flaming fire. But of the little man -himself no trace was to be seen. - -For several days Peter’s swollen hand reminded him unpleasantly of -his ingratitude and folly. But after a time he stifled the voice of -conscience, and said to himself: “What matter though they should sell -my glass-hut, and all I have? I still have fat Ezekiel, and as long as -he has money on Sundays, I cannot want for it.” - -Yea, Peter, but if he should have none? - -And so it happened one day, as a strange and wonderful judgment upon -them both. For one Sunday he drove up to the inn, and the people -stretched their heads out of window, and said: “There goes gambling -Peter--there goes the ‘dancers’ emperor,’ the rich glass-man!” And -others rejoined: “Who knows about the riches? They do say his debts are -many, and that it will not be long before the sheriff appears to seize -his goods!” - -But meanwhile Peter dismounted, and greeted them all pompously, and -called out to the host: “Good-evening, mine host of the Sun Inn! Is fat -Ezekiel here?” And a voice from within replied: “Here we are, Peter, at -the cards already, and thy place is kept for thee.” - -So Peter Munk went in, feeling his pockets, and saw directly that -Ezekiel must be well off that night, for they were brimming over with -gold and silver. He sat down to the table, and played with one and -another, and won and lost, and won again, till it grew late, and the -steadier heads among them said it was enough, and they must go home -to wife and child. So one and another went, till gambling Peter and -Ezekiel were left alone. Peter begged the latter to stop on a while, -but he was loth, and resisted for a long time. At last he cried: “Well, -I will count what I have left, and then we will play one last bout, -five gulden a throw, for it is childish to keep on for less.” - -He counted his money, and found he had just a hundred guldens; and now -Peter did not need to count his, for he knew how much he had, too. - -But if Ezekiel had won before, he lost now, one throw after another, -swearing fearfully the while. At last he put his only remaining five -gulden on the table, and said: “Now, even if I lose this time, I will -yet not leave off, for thou wilt lend me some of thy winnings, Peter; -one good fellow helps another.” - -“To be sure I will, and were it a hundred guldens!” cried the other, -proud of his winnings; and fat Ezekiel threw the dice--fifteen. “Now -let us see!” he cried. - -Peter rattled the box, and threw--eighteen; and as he did so, a hoarse, -well-known voice behind him said: “So, that was _the last_!” - -He turned round, and saw the giant form of Dutch Michael. He let the -money he had won fall in terror. But fat Ezekiel saw no one, and only -begged Peter to lend him ten guldens, that he might go on playing. -Half dreaming, Peter thrust his hand into one pocket--it was empty. -He tried the other--it was the same. He turned his coat inside out, -but not a penny-piece was to be found; and now he thought of his own -wish--that he might always have as much money as fat Ezekiel. It had -all disappeared like smoke. - -The host and Ezekiel gazed at him in surprise as he went on hunting, -and still found none of his money. They would not believe he had no -more; but when they themselves felt in his pockets, and were obliged to -confess it was the truth they became very wroth, and swore gambling -Peter was a wicked conjurer and had “wished” all Ezekiel’s money, and -his own, away into his coffers at home. He defended himself as best he -could, but appearances were against him. Ezekiel swore he would spread -the shameful tale through all the Black Forest, and the host declared -he would go to the town at dawn and denounce Peter as a sorcerer, -adding that he believed he would come to be burnt as one yet. Then they -set upon him in a rage, tore his jerkin from his back, and thrust him -out of doors. - -No star lit up the dark sky as Peter slunk dejectedly homewards, yet he -could make out a dusky form that strode along beside him, and at last -spoke as follows: - -“Thou art done for now, Peter Munk; all thy grandeur is at an end. -And I could have told thee as much before, but thou wouldst have -naught to do with me, and wert set upon running to that foolish -little glass-dwarf. Now thou seest what happens to those who scorn my -counsels. But try me again, for I have pity upon thy miserable plight. -No one ever repented it yet who turned to me, and if thou dost not fear -the way, I am to be found all day to-morrow in the ‘Pine-thicket,’ and -will come forth to speak with thee, if thou dost but call.” - -Peter was well aware who it was that spoke thus to him, but a sense -of dread crept over him. He made no answer, but hurried on upon his -homeward way. - - -The Little Glassman Part II - -[Illustration] - -THE COLD HEART - -When Peter went down to his glass-hut on Monday morning, he found not -only his workmen there, but other and more unwelcome occupants, namely, -the sheriff and three of his officers. The former wished him good-day, -asked how he had slept, and then drew out a long list of Peter’s -creditors. - -“Canst thou pay--yes or no?” asked the sheriff, with a stern look. -“Answer me quickly, for I have not much time to lose, and it will take -me three hours to get back to the town.” - -Peter’s heart sank; he was obliged to own that his last penny was gone, -and to suffer the sheriff to begin valuing his goods. - -As he and his officers went about, examining and valuing the house, the -workshop, the stable, the horse, cart, and all, Peter said to himself -that it was not far to the “Pine-thicket,” and that, as the little man -had not helped him, he would now try what the big one could do. - -He hurried to the “Pine-thicket” as fast as if the sheriff’s officers -had been at his heels; and though, as he ran by the spot where he had -first spoken to the little Glass-man, he fancied that an invisible hand -was laid upon him, trying to hold him back, still he broke away, and -hastened on, till he came to the boundary-line, of which he had taken -good care to note the position before. - -He had scarcely had time to call out in a breathless voice: “Dutch -Michael! Master Dutch Michael!” ere the giant raftsman, with his long -pole, stood before him. - -“So thou art come!” said he, with a laugh. “Would they fain have -skinned thee and sold thee to thy creditors? Well, make thy mind easy. -All thy troubles, as I said before, come from the little Glass-man, -that canting bit of piety, who is too good to mix with other folk. If -one gives at all, one should give freely, and not like yon miser. But -come,” he continued, turning toward the forest, “follow me to my house, -and we will see whether we can strike a bargain.” - -“A bargain!” thought Peter. “What can he ask of me, or what have I to -barter? Am I to be his servant, or what?” - -They went for a bit down a steep woodland path, that led suddenly to -the brink of a dark, deep, and precipitous ravine. Dutch Michael swung -himself down the cliff as though it had been a flight of smooth marble -steps; but Peter nearly lost his senses for terror when the giant, -having reached the bottom, suddenly grew up as tall as a steeple, and -reaching out an arm as long as a weaver’s beam, with a hand at the end -of it as big as the table at the tavern, called up in tones as deep and -muffled as a funeral bell: “Sit thee down on my hand, and hold on by -one of the fingers, that thou mayst not fall.” - -Peter tremblingly did as he was told, and taking his seat upon the -giant’s hand, held firmly on by one of his thumbs. They went down a -long way, deeper and deeper; yet to Peter’s surprise it grew no darker, -but rather the daylight brightened as they descended into the chasm, -only his eyes could not endure that light for long together. - -Dutch Michael’s size decreased the farther Peter got down, until he -had shrunk to his usual height, and they stood at the door of a house, -that was neither better nor worse than that of any rich peasant in -the forest. The sitting-room which Peter now entered was no different -from other people’s, except that it seemed very lonely; the tall -wooden clock, the great earthenware stove, the broad benches, and -the household utensils on the shelves, were just the same here as -elsewhere. Michael motioned him to a seat by the centre table, and then -went out, returning with a pitcher of wine and some glasses. He filled -them up, and began chatting with his guest, telling him so much about -the pleasures of the world, and the beauties of foreign countries, -towns, and rivers, that Peter at last confessed to a great desire to -see all these fine things. - -“But,” said Dutch Michael, “though thy body might be full of strength -and courage, enough to venture upon any undertaking, yet one or two -throbs of thy foolish heart would be enough to make thee tremble and -grow weak! And then again, what you call sorrow, or wounded honour, -what are these, that a sensible lad should trouble about them? Was it -in thy head thou didst feel it, when a while ago some one called thee -an impostor and a scoundrel? When the sheriff came to turn thee out of -house and home, was it thy belly that pained thee? Nay, but where, tell -me, where didst thou feel the pain?” - -“In my heart,” said Peter, as he pressed his hand to his throbbing -side, for he felt, indeed, as though his heart were leaping to and fro -in alarm. - -“Well, in past days--do not take it amiss--but in past days, I say, -thou hast thrown away many hundred guldens to good-for-nothing beggars, -and other ragamuffins, and what use has it been to thee? They wished -thee health and every blessing--art thou any the healthier for it? -For half that wasted money thou couldst have paid for a doctor all to -thyself. Blessings! A fine blessing it is to be sold up and turned -adrift, eh? And what was it that made thee thrust thy hand in thy -pocket as often as a dirty beggar stretched out his ragged cap? Thy -heart, always thy heart; not thine eye, thy tongue, or thy leg, but thy -heart--thou didst always _take it_, as they rightly say, _too much to -heart_!” - -“But how can a man get to feel differently? I am taking a deal of -trouble, this very moment, to keep my heart quiet, and yet it is -throbbing and aching.” - -“_Thou!_” laughed the other. “Thou, poor wretch, canst do nothing to -prevent it, I know. Yet only give _me_ the feebly beating thing, and -thou shalt see what ease will be thine.” - -“You?--my heart?” cried Peter in terror. “But then I should die on the -spot? Never!” - -“Yes, if one of these gentlemen, the surgeons, were to try and cut the -heart out of thy body, thou wouldst die, sure enough; but it is not so -when I do it. Come hither and be convinced.” - -With these words, he opened a door and led Peter into an adjoining room. - -The lad’s heart sank, with a painful quiver, as he stepped over the -threshold; but he did not notice it, so startling and amazing was the -sight that met his eyes. On sundry wooden shelves stood glass jars, -filled with a transparent fluid, and in every one of these jars lay a -heart. Moreover, each jar was labelled and bore a name, which Peter -read with eager curiosity. Here was the heart of the sheriff of F., -and there the heart of fat Ezekiel, and the heart of the “dancers’ -king,” and of the head-forester; there were six hearts belonging to -corn-brokers, eight to recruiting officers, three to usurers--in fact, -it was a collection of the most respectable hearts for twenty miles -round. - -“See!” said Dutch Michael, “all these have cast away the cares and -sorrows of life; not one of these hearts beats anxiously or heavily any -more, and their former owners feel all the better for having got this -restless guest out of their house.” - -“But what do they carry in their breasts instead?” asked Peter, who -felt quite confused and giddy from all he had seen and heard. - -“This,” answered the other, and reached out to him, from a drawer which -he had opened, a stone heart. - -“This!” echoed Peter, and could not prevent a cold shiver from going -over him. “A heart of marble. But surely, Master Dutch Michael, such a -one must feel very cold in a man’s breast?” - -“Certainly; but the coolness is really quite pleasant. Why should -a heart be warm, after all? In winter, a good dram will warm thee -better; and in summer, when all is sultry and hot, it’s past belief how -comfortably such a heart as this cools a fellow down. And, as I said -before, neither fear nor care, neither foolish pity nor other men’s -sorrow, can knock at the door of such a heart.” - -“And is that all you can give me?” asked Peter angrily. “I hoped for -money, and you offer me a stone.” - -“Well, I should think a hundred thousand guldens would be enough to -begin with, would it not? If thou dost only manage it well, thou canst -soon be a rich man.” - -“A hundred thousand!” cried the poor charcoal-burner joyfully. “Well, -do not leap so wildly in my breast, unruly heart! we shall soon have -done with one another! So be it, Michael, give me the money and -the stone, and thou hast leave to take away the unrest from this -dwelling-place.” - -“I was sure thou wert a sensible lad,” replied the Dutchman, smiling -pleasantly; “come, let us have one more drink together, and then I will -count out the money.” - -They sat down to their wine again, and drank and drank, until Peter -fell into a deep slumber. - - * * * * * - -Coal-Munk Peter was awakened by the cheery ring of a post-boy’s horn, -and found himself sitting in a fine carriage, rolling along a broad -road; and as he leaned from the door and looked back, he could see the -Black Forest lying far behind him in the distance. At first he could -not believe that it was really himself sitting in this post-chaise, -for even his clothes were not the same as he had worn yesterday, but -he remembered everything that had happened so clearly, that at last he -gave up puzzling, and cried: “Well, I am Coal-Munk Peter at any rate, -and no other; that much is certain.” - -He was surprised that he felt no melancholy, no home-sickness, on thus -leaving his quiet village, and the silent woods where he had lived so -long, for the first time. Even when he thought of his mother, whom he -must have left behind in penury and distress, he could not squeeze a -tear out of his eye, or even heave a sigh at the thought of her, for he -felt indifferent to everything. - -“But of course,” he thought to himself, “tears and sighs, melancholy -and home-sickness, all come from the heart, and, thanks to Dutch -Michael, mine is cold and of stone.” He laid his hand on his breast, -and all was quiet and motionless within. “If he has kept his word as -well about the hundred thousand, I may think myself lucky indeed,” he -said, and began to search the carriage. - -At first he only found clothes, of every description that he could -want, yet no money; but finally he hit on a bag filled with golden -thalers, and bills upon various merchants in all the great cities. “Now -everything is as I wish,” he thought, and settling himself comfortably -in a corner of the carriage, he journeyed forth into the world. - -He travelled about for two years, gazing right and left out of his -carriage at the houses and lands as he went by; and the first thing he -looked for, when he stopped anywhere, was the sign of the tavern. Then -he would wander about in the cities, and let all their rarest treasures -and most beautiful sights be displayed to him. But nothing gave him -pleasure--no picture, no house, no music, no merrymaking; his stone -heart could take no interest in anything, and his eyes and ears were -deadened to all that was lovely. He had nothing left but the pleasures -of eating and drinking, and of sleep; and so he lived, wandering about -the world without object, eating for his amusement, and sleeping -because he was dull. Now and then he remembered, indeed, that he had -been happier and merrier when he was still poor, and had to work for -his livelihood. Then every beautiful outlook into the valley, all music -and song, still delighted him, and he had even looked forward for hours -to the simple meal that his mother was to bring up to the charcoal-kiln -for him. It seemed quite strange, as he looked back over the past, and -called to mind how he had been wont to laugh at the slightest jest, -to think that he could no longer laugh now. When others did so, he -drew his mouth, out of politeness, into a wry smile, but his heart had -no smile within. Then he knew that, though he was very calm, he was -not happy. It was not melancholy or home-sickness, but merely want of -interest, and the weariness of his empty, joyless life, that at last -sent him home again. - -When he drove from Strasbourg and caught sight of the dark woods of his -home--when he saw again, for the first time, the powerful forms and the -kind, honest faces of the Black Forest folk--when the tones of that -familiar speech, deep and loud, yet pleasant withal, fell upon his ear, -he hastily put his hand to his heart, for he felt a stir in his blood, -and thought that now he must surely both rejoice and weep--but how -could he have been so foolish? Had he not a heart of stone? Stones are -dead, and neither laugh nor weep. - -His first visit was to Dutch Michael, who welcomed him with his old -kindness. - -“Michael,” Peter said to him, “I have travelled and seen everything -now, but it is all foolish stuff, and I only bored myself. This stone -thing of yours, to be sure, saves me a great deal. I never get angry -and am never sad, but then I am never merry either, and I seem to -myself to be only half alive. Could you not make the stone heart a bit -livelier? Or--why not give me back my old heart? I would rather have -it back; I had got used to it in five-and-twenty years, and if it did -sometimes play me a foolish trick, yet it was merry, and a blithe sort -of heart.” - -The wood-spirit laughed a bitter, grim laugh. - -“When once thou art dead, Peter Munk,” he replied, “thou shalt have it -fast enough. Yes, then thou shalt have thy soft, easily moved heart -again, and be able to feel all that comes, whether joy or pain. But -above ground it can never be thine again. Yet, Peter, if thou hast -travelled, and reaped no pleasure from it, this was only because of thy -foolish way of life. Now settle somewhere in the forest, build a house, -marry, use thy money so as to increase thy wealth. Lack of work is all -that is amiss with thee; thou wert only dull because thou wert idle, -and now thou wouldst put all the blame on this innocent heart?” - -Peter admitted that, as far as the idleness was concerned, Michael was -right; and he made up his mind to set to work at getting richer and -richer. Michael again made him a present of a hundred thousand guldens, -and bade him farewell as the best of friends. - -The story soon got spread about that Coal-Munk Peter, or “gambling -Peter,” had returned, and far richer than before. And thereupon things -went as they always do--at the time he had been reduced to beggary, -they had turned him out of the Sun Inn, but now when he made his first -appearance there on a Sunday afternoon, every one shook him by the -hand, praised his horse, and asked about his travels; and when he began -to play again for hard coin with fat Ezekiel, he stood as high as ever -in the public esteem. - -He no longer made glass now, but took up the wood-business, and even -that only as a pretence. His real business was that of a corn-broker -and money-lender. By-and-by half the Black Forest was in debt to him, -but he only lent out money at ten per cent., or sold corn at treble -the usual price, to poor people who could not pay at once. He was now -fast friends with the sheriff; and if any one failed to pay what he -owed Master Peter Munk, punctually and to the very day, out would come -the sheriff with his men, and having hastily valued the poor debtor’s -goods, they would sell all he had, and turn him out, with wife and -child, into the forest. - -At first this caused the rich Peter some inconvenience, for the poor -sold-up wretches would besiege his house in swarms, the men begging for -a little respite, the women trying to soften the heart of stone, and -the little children crying for a crust of bread. But he soon provided -himself with a couple of fierce bloodhounds, and then the “cats’ -music,” as he called it, stopped at once. - -The person who gave him the most trouble was “the old wife,” as he -called her, and who was she but Mistress Munk, his own mother. She -had fallen into misery and want, at the time their house and goods -had been sold up, and since her son had come home a rich man, he had -never troubled himself about her. Now she would sometimes hobble up -to the house, leaning on her stick, old, broken-down, and feeble. She -did not dare go in, for he had once driven her away; but it cut her -to the heart to be obliged to live on the charity of others, when her -own son could have made her old age comfortable and free from care. -But the cold heart was never moved by the sight of the well-known form -and features, now so pale and wasted, or of the outstretched hand and -imploring gaze. When she knocked at the door on Saturday evenings, -he grudgingly drew forth a sixpenny-piece, wrapped it in paper, and -sent it out to her by a serving-man. He could hear her trembling voice -uttering thanks, and wishes for his prosperity--he could hear her cough -as she crept from the door, but he thought no more of it, except that -he had been obliged to spend another sixpence uselessly. - -At last he bethought himself of marrying. He knew that any father in -the district would gladly give him his daughter, but he was particular -in his choice, for he desired men to praise his luck and his wisdom in -this matter too. So he rode about through all the forest, looking here -and there, yet none of the handsome Black Forest girls seemed handsome -enough for him. At last, after having sought in vain among all the -pretty girls at the various dances and meeting-places, he heard that -the fairest and best girl in the whole country was the daughter of a -poor wood-cutter. She was said to live very quietly, in the strictest -seclusion, managing her father’s house diligently and well, and never -showing herself at a dance, not even on the greatest holidays. When -Peter heard of this wonder of the forest, he determined to woo her, -and rode off to the hut that had been pointed out to him. - -The father of beautiful Lisbeth received this fine gentleman with much -surprise, and was even more surprised to learn that he was the rich -Master Peter Munk, and was anxious to become his son-in-law. The old -man was not long in making up his mind, for he fancied all his care -and poverty would now be at an end; he even gave his consent without -consulting Lisbeth, and the good child was so obedient that she made no -objection to becoming Mistress Peter Munk. - -But the poor girl was far from having as pleasant a life as she -had expected. She had thought she understood housekeeping, but she -could never please Master Peter; she had compassion on the poor and -suffering, and as her husband was so rich, she thought it no sin to -give a penny to a poor beggar-woman, or a dram to an old man; but when -Master Peter one day discovered this, he growled out with rough voice -and angry looks: - -“What is this thou art after, wasting my substance on vagabonds and -ragamuffins? Didst thou bring anything into the house, that thou -shouldst have the right to give anything away? Thy father’s beggar’s -staff will warm no soup, and yet thou canst throw money about like a -queen. Let me catch thee at it again, and thou shalt feel my hand!” - -Beautiful Lisbeth wept alone in her room over her husband’s hard heart, -and often wished herself home again in her father’s poor hut, rather -than in the house of rich, but niggardly, stony-hearted Peter. Ah! if -she had only known that he had a heart of marble, that could neither -love her nor any one else, she would no longer have wondered at him. - -Now, when she sat at her door, and a beggar came up, and took off his -hat and began his little speech, she would close her eyes, so as not to -see his misery, and clench her hand tightly, lest it should slip into -her pocket and fetch out a coin. - -Therefore it came to pass that beautiful Lisbeth fell into bad repute -through all the forest, and people said she was even more of a miser -than her husband. - -But one day she was sitting at her door, spinning and singing a little -song, for she was light of heart, because the weather was fine, and -Master Peter had ridden far afield; and presently a little man came -down the road, carrying a large, heavy sack; she could hear him a long -way off, panting for breath. Mistress Lisbeth looked at him pityingly, -and thought to herself that such an old man should not be so heavily -laden. - -Now the little man staggered up, gasping, and when he got opposite -Mistress Lisbeth’s door, he broke down altogether beneath his load. - -“Oh, have pity on me, and give me a drink of water, mistress!” he -panted. “I can go no farther, and am fainting for misery.” - -“But you should not carry such heavy loads at your age,” said Mistress -Lisbeth. - -“Ay, ’tis all very well, but what if I must do errands, because I am -poor and have to earn my bread?” he answered. “Ah! a rich woman like -you does not know how bitter poverty is, or how welcome a cool drink in -such hot weather.” - -When Lisbeth heard this, she hurried into the house and filled a glass -with water, but as she was coming back, and saw how wretched and -careworn he looked, crouching upon his sack, a deeper compassion welled -up within her; she remembered her husband was not at home, and turning -again, she put the water aside, and brought out a beaker full of wine, -with a good loaf of rye-bread, to the old man. - -“There, a draught of wine will do thee more good than water, as thou -art so old,” she said; “but do not drink so hastily, and eat some bread -with it.” - -The old man gazed at her in astonishment, till great tears gathered in -his eyes. He drank again, and then said: - -“I am old, but I have met with few people so compassionate as thou, -or who gave their gifts with so sweet and heartfelt a grace, Mistress -Lisbeth. But thou wilt surely have a happy life in return, for such a -heart does not go unrewarded.” - -“Nay, and she shall reap the reward this very moment!” shouted a -furious voice--and looking round, they saw Master Peter, crimson with -anger, standing behind them. “And I see thou dost give my choicest -wine, too, to beggars, and my own tankard to the lips of vagabonds! -There is thy reward!” - -Mistress Lisbeth fell at his feet and begged for forgiveness, but the -stone heart knew no pity; he turned the whip he held in his hand, and -brought down its ebony handle with such force upon her fair forehead, -that she sank lifeless into the old man’s arms. - -When he saw this, Peter at once seemed to feel remorseful, for he bent -down to see if there were any life left in her; but the little old man -said, in well-known tones: - -“Trouble thyself no further, Coal-Peter; here was the fairest and -sweetest blossom in all the forest, but thou hast trodden it under -foot, and it will never bloom again.” - -Every drop of blood left Peter’s cheeks, and he stammered: “It is you, -then, Master Treasure-keeper? Well, what is done is done, and doubtless -it had to be. But I trust you will not denounce me to justice as a -murderer?” - -“Miserable wretch!” said the little Glass-man sternly. “What good would -it do me to bring thy perishable body to the gallows? Not earthly -judgments hast thou to fear, but other and more terrible ones; for thou -hast sold thy soul to the Evil One.” - -“And if I have sold my heart,” screamed Peter, “it is thou who art -to blame, thou and thy deceitful treasures! Thou, malicious spirit, -hast been my undoing--’tis thou hast driven me to ask help from -another--thou hast to answer for it all!” - -But hardly had he spoken these words, when the little Glass-man began -to grow larger and taller, till he towered above him, and his eyes, -they declare, were as large as soup-plates, and his mouth was like a -heated oven, and breathed forth fiery flames. Peter fell on his knees, -and his stone heart did not prevent him from trembling like an aspen -leaf. The wood-spirit seized him by the neck with its hawk-like talons, -whirled him round as the storm-wind does a dry leaf, and then cast him -to the ground again, so that all his bones rattled. - -“Earth-worm!” he cried with a voice of thunder, “I could shatter thee -to atoms if I would, for thou hast blasphemed against the Lord of the -Forest. But, for this dead woman’s sake, who gave me food and drink, I -will grant thee eight days’ respite. If thou dost not turn and repent -thee in that time, I will come and grind thy bones to powder, and thou -shalt go hence in thy sins!” - -It was already evening, when some men who were going by saw rich Peter -Munk lying on the ground. They turned him this way and that, and sought -if there was still any breath in him, but for a time they sought in -vain. Presently one fetched water from the house and sprinkled some -over him, and at that Peter gave a deep sigh, moaned, and opened his -eyes. He looked about him, and asked where Mistress Lisbeth was, but no -one had seen her. Then he thanked the men for their help, and crawled -into his house, where he began seeking in every corner from roof to -cellar, but Mistress Lisbeth was nowhere to be found. So he knew that -what he had taken for a hideous dream was the awful reality. - -Now that he was quite alone, strange thoughts visited him; not that he -was afraid of anything, for was not his heart of stone? But when he -thought of his wife’s death, pictures of his own end came unbidden into -his mind, and he saw himself going hence, so heavily laden with the -tears of the poor and their curses--which had alike been unavailing to -soften his heart--with the misery of all the wretched folk on whom he -had set his dogs, with the silent despair of his mother, and with the -blood of good and beautiful Lisbeth. What account should he give to the -old man, her father, when he came and asked, “Where is my daughter, -whom I gave thee to wife?” How could he answer the questions of that -Being, to whom belong all the forests, the seas, the mountains, and the -lives of men? - -These thoughts even tormented him at night in his dreams, and he kept -on being awakened by a sweet voice that called to him, “Peter, get thee -a warmer heart.” But when he was awake, he made haste to shut his eyes -again, for the voice that spoke this warning sounded like that of -Mistress Lisbeth. - -One day he went to the ale-house to distract his thoughts, and there he -fell in with fat Ezekiel. They sat down together and talked of this and -that, the weather, the taxes, the war, and lastly of death, and of how -many people here and there had died suddenly. Then Peter asked the fat -man what he thought about death, and what was to come after it. Ezekiel -replied that the body was buried, but that the soul would go to its -appointed place. - -“And the heart?” asked Peter anxiously, “do they bury that too?” - -“To be sure,” answered Ezekiel. - -“But if one has no heart?” Peter went on. - -Ezekiel looked at him with a dreadful expression. “What dost thou mean -by that?” he asked. “Art thou mocking me? Dost mean to say I have no -heart?” - -“Yes, a heart sure enough, as hard as a stone,” replied Peter. - -Ezekiel stared at him in amazement, looked cautiously round to see if -he could be overheard, and then said: “How comest thou to know that? Or -does thine own heart beat no longer, perhaps?” - -“It beats no longer,” rejoined Peter, “at least not here in my breast. -But tell me, since now thou hast taken my meaning, what will happen to -_our_ hearts?” - -“Why trouble about that, comrade?” asked Ezekiel, laughing. “Hast thou -not all thou canst need for a jolly life on earth, and is not that -enough? That is just the comfort of having these cold hearts, that such -thoughts cannot terrify us.” - -“True; yet we think such thoughts, and though I may no longer feel any -dread now, yet I remember how I felt when I was still an innocent boy.” - -“Well, I don’t suppose our lot will be of the best,” said Ezekiel. -“I asked a schoolmaster once, and he told me that after death all -hearts were weighed, to see how heavily they were laden with sins. The -lightest rise up, but the heavy ones sink down, and methinks our stones -will be of tolerable weight.” - -“Yes, truly,” replied Peter; “and even now it often makes me uneasy to -feel my heart so careless and indifferent when I think of such matters.” - -So they talked; but on the following night Peter heard the well-known -voice whisper in his ear, five or six times: “Peter, get thee a warmer -heart.” - -Still he felt no remorse at the thought of having killed Lisbeth; -but when he replied, in answer to the servants’ inquiries, that his -wife was away on a journey, he thought within himself: “What may that -journey be?” - -He went on thus for six days, always hearing the voice by night, and by -day always thinking of the wood-spirit and his terrible threat; but on -the seventh morning he sprang from his bed, crying, “So be it, then; I -will try whether I can get me a warmer heart, for this unfeeling stone -in my breast makes life weary and desolate to me.” He hastily put on -his Sunday clothes, mounted his horse, and rode to the “Pine-thicket.” - -On reaching the spot where the trees begin to stand closer together, -he dismounted, made fast his horse, and began, with a rapid step, to -ascend the hill. When he reached the top, and stood beneath the great -pine, he raised his voice and repeated:-- - - “O Treasure-Keeper in the forest green, - Thine age is many hundred years--this land - Is all thine own, wherever pine-trees stand; - By Sunday-children only art thou seen.” - -Then the little Glass-man came forth, looking, not genial and friendly -as before, but sad and gloomy; he wore a coat all of black glass, and -a long mourning-band fluttered from his hat. Peter knew full well for -whom he was mourning. - -“What wilt thou of me, Peter Munk?” he asked in a hollow voice. - -“I have yet one wish left, Master Treasure-keeper,” said Peter, with -downcast eyes. - -“Can hearts of stone still wish?” asked the other. “Thou hast all that -thy wicked mind can require, and it can hardly be that I may fulfil any -wish of thine.” - -“Yet you promised me three wishes, and I still have one left.” - -“But I can deny it, if it is a foolish one,” said the wood-spirit. -“However, let be; I will hear what it is.” - -“Then take away this dead stone, and give me back my living heart,” -said Peter. - -“Did I make the bargain with thee?” asked the little Glass-man. “Am I -Dutch Michael, who gives riches and cold hearts? Yonder, with him, must -thou go seek for thy heart.” - -“Alas! he will never give it me back,” replied Peter sorrowfully. - -“I pity thee, wicked though thou art,” said the little man after some -thought. “And since thy wish was not a foolish one, I cannot, at -least, deny thee my help. Listen, then. Thou canst never get back thy -heart by force, yet by cunning thou mayst, and without much difficulty -either, perhaps; for Michael is still only foolish Michael, after all, -though he thinks himself very clever. Therefore go straight to him, and -do as I bid thee.” And now he gave Peter full instructions, and handed -him a little cross of pure glass. “He cannot endanger thy life,” he -concluded, “and he will let thee go free directly thou shalt hold this -before him, if thou dost only pray the while. Then, if thou hast got -thy desire, come back to me here.” - -Peter Munk took the cross, made sure that all the little man’s words -were thoroughly fixed in his mind, and went his way to Dutch Michael’s -dwelling-place. He called his name three times, and the giant stood -before him directly. - -“Thou hast killed thy wife,” said he, with a dreadful laugh. “Well, -I should have done as much; she was giving all thy wealth away to -beggars. But thou wilt have to leave the country for a while, for there -will be a stir made when she is not to be found; and thou wilt need -money for the journey, and art come to fetch it?” - -“Thou hast guessed rightly,” answered Peter; “only it must be a large -sum this time, for it is a long way to America.” - -Michael went first, and brought him down to his house; there he opened -a chest full of gold, and took out roll after roll of it. While he was -counting it out on the table, Peter began:-- - -“Thou art a cunning trickster, Michael, to have taken me in with that -tale of my having a stone in my breast, and of thy having got my -heart!” - -“And is it not the truth?” asked Michael in surprise; “dost thou feel -thy heart, then? Is it not like ice? Dost thou know fear, or sorrow, or -remorse?” - ---“Thou hast stopped the beating of my heart, perhaps, but I have it -just as usual in my breast. And Ezekiel too; he told me that thou hadst -taken us both in. Thou art not the fellow to be able to tear a man’s -heart out of his breast like that, unnoticed and without danger. It -would take a sorcerer to do that.” - -“I swear to thee,” cried Michael angrily, “that thou, and Ezekiel, and -all the rich folk who have made a bargain with me, have just such cold -hearts as I showed thee, and your real hearts are here in my closet.” - -“Dear, dear! how the lies do slip from thy tongue, to be sure!” laughed -Peter. “Go and tell that tale elsewhere. Dost think I have not seen -dozens of such conjuring tricks on my travels? Those hearts in thy -chamber there are sham ones, made of wax. Thou art a rich fellow, I -allow; but thou art no sorcerer.” - -Then the giant grew enraged, and threw open the chamber door. - -“Come in and read all these labels--that one yonder, see, is Peter -Munk’s heart. Dost thou mark how it quivers? Can _that_, too, be done -with wax?” - -“And yet it is of wax,” answered Peter. “A real heart does not throb -like that, and besides, I have mine still in my breast. Nay, thou art -no sorcerer!” - -“But I will prove it to thee,” cried the other, more angrily still; -“thou shalt feel for thyself that it is thine own heart.” - -He lifted it from the jar, tore open Peter’s jerkin, pulled the stone -from his breast, and held it before him. Then taking the real heart, he -breathed upon it, and put it carefully into its place--and immediately -Peter felt how it beat, and could rejoice that he had it once more. - -[Illustration: He lifted it from the jar, tore open Peter’s jerkin, -pulled the stone from his breast, and held it before him.] - -“How dost thou feel now?” asked Michael, smiling. - -“In truth, thou wert right,” answered Peter, beginning carefully to -draw the cross from his pocket. “I would never have believed that any -one could do such a thing.” - ---“No, indeed! And so thou seest that I am a sorcerer after all. But -come now, I will put the stone back again.” - -“Gently, Master Michael,” cried Peter, stepping back and holding out -the cross towards him. “Mice are caught with lard, and this time ’tis -thou art the dupe.” And he straightway took to repeating all the -prayers he could think of. - -Then Michael began to grow smaller and smaller, and dropped to the -ground, where he writhed to and fro like a worm, moaning and groaning. -And all the hearts round about began to quiver and to throb, so that it -sounded like a watchmaker’s workshop. But Peter was filled with dread, -and an awe-struck feeling crept over him; he ran as fast as he could -from the room and from the house, and, urged by fear, climbed rapidly -up the face of the cliff, for he could hear that Michael had risen -again, and was stamping and raging after him, sending out terrible -curses the while. As soon as he reached the top of the cliff, he -hurried towards the “Pine-thicket.” As he went, a fearful storm arose, -and the bolts of lightning fell to right and left of him, shattering -the trees; but he held on his way, and came in safety to the domain of -the little Glass-man. - -His heart was beating joyfully, and that merely _because_ it beat. But -now he looked back with horror upon his past life--it seemed to him -as terrible as the thunderstorm, that had laid bare the noble woods -behind him. He thought of Mistress Lisbeth, his good and lovely wife, -whom he had murdered out of avarice, and he appeared to himself as the -very scum and offscouring of mankind. He was weeping bitterly when he -reached the little Glass-man’s mountain-top. - -The Treasure-keeper was sitting under the fir-tree smoking a little -pipe, yet he looked more cheerful than before. - -“Why art thou weeping, Coal-Peter?” he asked. “Hast thou not got thy -heart back again? Is the cold one still in thy breast?” - -“Alas, sir!” sighed Peter, “while I yet carried the cold heart within -me, I never wept--mine eyes were as dry as the fields in August; but -now my own, old heart is like to break, because of what I have done. -I have driven out my debtors into want and misery--I have set my dogs -upon the sick and the poor--and you know yourself how my whip fell upon -_her_ fair forehead!” - -“Thou hast been a great sinner, Peter,” said the little man. “Riches -and idleness corrupted thee, till thy heart turned to stone, and could -no longer be touched by joy or sorrow, pity or remorse. But repentance -makes amends, and if I could only be sure that thou dost truly grieve -over thy past life, I might very likely still be able to do something -for thee.” - -“I want nothing more,” answered Peter, and his head sank sorrowfully -upon his breast. “It is all over with me; I can never be happy again -as long as I live. What shall I do all alone in the world? My mother -will never forgive me the great wrong I have done her, and perhaps, -indeed, I have already brought her to her grave, monster that I am! -And Lisbeth, my wife! Do thou rather strike me dead, too, Master -Treasure-keeper, and let my wretched life end at once.” - -“So be it,” answered the little man; “if thou wilt not have it -otherwise, it shall be done. I have my axe here at hand.” He took his -pipe quietly from his mouth, knocked the ashes from it, and put it by. -Then he stood slowly up, and went behind the pine-trees. But Peter -flung himself down weeping upon the grass, and awaited the death-stroke -patiently, for his life was worth nothing more to him. - -After a while he heard light footsteps behind him, and thought: “Now he -is coming.” - -“Look up once more, Peter Munk,” called the little man. - -He wiped the tears from his face, and turned round, and see! there were -his mother and Lisbeth, his wife, looking at him with kind and loving -eyes. Peter sprang to his feet, bewildered with joy. - -“Art thou not dead, then, Lisbeth?” he gasped. “And thou art here too, -mother, and hast forgiven me?” - -“They will both forgive thee,” said the little Glass-man, “because -thou dost truly repent--and all shall be forgotten. Go home now to thy -father’s hut, and be a charcoal-burner as before; if thou art kind and -honest, thou wilt honour thy calling, and thy neighbours will love and -respect thee more than if thou hadst ten coffers full of gold.” - -So spoke the little Glass-man, and bade them farewell; and with thanks -and praise upon their lips, the three went home together. - -The rich Peter’s fine house was no longer standing; the lightning had -struck it and burnt it to the ground, with all its treasures; but the -hut that had been his father’s was not far off. Thither they turned -their steps, and even this heavy loss did not trouble them much. But -what was their amazement when they reached the hut, and found in its -stead a comfortable peasant’s house! Everything in it was simple, but -good and clean. - -“Our kind little Glass-man has done this!” cried Peter. - -“How beautiful!” said Mistress Lisbeth; “and I feel much more at home -here than in that large house with all those servants.” - -From this time forth Peter Munk became a worthy and industrious man. -He was content with what he had, and followed his calling cheerfully, -and so it came about that he gathered some wealth together by his own -efforts, and was respected and beloved throughout the forest. He no -longer found fault with his wife, he honoured his mother, and gave to -the needy who came to his door. When, after a year and a day, Mistress -Lisbeth became the mother of a fine little boy, Peter went once more -to the “Pine-thicket,” and repeated his charm. But no little Glass-man -appeared. - -“Master Treasure-keeper,” cried Peter, “do but hear me! I have only -come to beg you to be my little son’s godfather. I want nothing else.” - -There was no answer, only a puff of wind stirred the pine-trees above, -and cast one or two fir-cones down upon the grass. - -“Well,” cried Peter again, “I will take these with me as a remembrance, -since thou wilt not show thyself.” And he put the fir-cones in his -pocket and went home; but when he took off his Sunday jerkin, and his -mother turned the pockets out before putting it away in the chest, -there fell from them four great rolls of money, which proved to be -good, new thalers of the realm, and there was not a single false one -among them. And this was baby Peter’s christening-gift from the little -man in the pine-forest. - -So they lived on, quiet and contented; and many a time, when Peter -Munk’s hair was already turning white, he would be heard to say: “It -is better, after all, to be happy with little, than to have money and -goods, and a cold heart.” - - - THE END - - - _Printed by_ BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO. - _Edinburgh and London_ - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] No Rhine legends have been introduced, as they were considered to -be already so widely known. - -[2] The _hora_ is a Roumanian dance, the dancers forming into circles -or rounds. - -[3] Little sheep. - -[4] Vijelia means “the storm-wind.” - -[5] The hurricane. - -[6] The bridal veil of Roumanian girls is composed of a shower of loose -golden threads. - -[7] It was believed in Germany that children born on a Sunday were more -likely than others to see fairies and supernatural beings. - -[8] Most of the supernatural apparitions in this part of the Hartz -district are called in the legends “Venetians.” - - - - - Transcriber's Note: - - Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as - possible. Some minor corrections of spelling and punctuation have - been made. - - Italic text has been marked with _underscores_. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Legends from River & Mountain, by -Carmen Sylva and Alma Strettell - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEGENDS FROM RIVER & MOUNTAIN *** - -***** This file should be named 52417-0.txt or 52417-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/4/1/52417/ - -Produced by Suzanne Shell, Paul Clark and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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