For a day or two he had been walking through the palace wood with next
to nothing to eat, when he came upon the strangest little house, inhabited
by a very nice, tidy, motherly old woman. This was one of the good fairies.
The moment she saw him, she knew quite well who he was and what was going
to come of it, but she was not at liberty to interfere with the orderly
march of events. She received him with the kindness she would have shown to
any other traveler and gave him bread and milk, which he thought the most
delicious food he had ever tasted, wondering why they did not have it for
dinner at the palace sometimes. The old woman pressed him to stay all
night. When he awoke, he was amazed to find how well and strong he felt.
She would not take any of the money he offered, but begged him, if he found
occasion of continuing in the neighborhood, to return and occupy the same
quarters..
"Thank you ever so much, good mother," answered the prince, "but there is little chance of that. The sooner I get out of this wood the better."
"I don't know about that," said the fairy.
"What do you mean?" asked the prince.
"Why how should I know?" returned she.
"I can't tell," said the prince.
"Very well," said the fairy.
"How strangely you talk!" said the prince.
"Do I?" said the fairy.
"Yes, you do," said the prince.
"Very well," said the fairy.
The prince was not used to being spoken to in this fashion, so he felt a little angry and turned and walked away. But this did not offend the fairy. She stood at the door of her little house, looking after him till the trees hid him. Then she said, "At last!" and went in.
The prince wandered and wandered, and got nowhere. The sun sank and sank and went out of sight, and he seemed no nearer the end of the wood than ever. He sat down on a fallen tree, ate a bit of bread the old woman had given him, and waited for the moon; for although he was not much of an astronomer, he knew the moon would rise sometime, because she had risen the night before. Up she came, slow and slow, but of a good size, pretty nearly round indeed; whereupon, greatly refreshed with his piece of bread, he got up and went-he knw not whither.
After walking a considerable distance, he thought he was coming to the ouside of the forest; but when he reached what he thought the last of it, he found himself only upon the edge of a great open space in it, covered with grass. The moon shone very bright, and he thought he had never seen a more lovely spot. Still it looded dreary because of its loneliness, for he could not see the house at the other side. He sat down, weary again, and gazed into the glade. He had not seen so much room for several days.
All at once he spied something in the middle of the grass. What could it be? It moved; it came nearer. Was it a human creature, gliding across-a girl dressed in white, gleaming in the moonshine? She came nearer and nearer. He crept behind a tree and watched, wondering. It must be strange being of the wood-a nymph whom the moonlight and the warm dusky air had enticed form her tree. But when she came close to where he stood, he no longer doubted she was human-for he had caught sight of her sunny hair, her clear blue eyes, and the loveliest face and form that he had ever seen. All at once she began singing like a nightingale and dancing to her own music, with her eyes ever turned toward the moon. She passed close to where he stood, dancing on by the edge of the trees and away in a great circle toward the other side, until he could see but a spot of white in the yellowish green of the moonlit grass. But when he feared it would vanish, the spot grew and became a figure once more. She approached him again, singing and dancing and waving her arms over her head, until she had completed the circle. Just opposite his tree she stood, ceased her song, dropped her arms, and broke out into a long, clear laugh, musical as a brook. Then, as tired, she threw herself on the grass, and lay gazing at the moon. The prince was almost afraid to breathe, lest he should startle her and she should wanish from his sight. As to venturing near her, that never came to his head.
She had lain for a long hour or longer, when the prince began again to doubt her reality. Perhaps she was but a vision of his own fancy. Or was she a spirit of the wood, after all? If so, he, too, would haunt the wood, glad to have lost his kingdom and everything for the hope of being near her. He would build himself a hut in the forest, and there he would live for the pure chance of seeing her again. Upon nights like this, at least, she would come out and bask in the moonlight, and make his soul blessed. But while he dreamed, she sprang to her feet, turned her face full to the moon, and began singing as if she would draw her down from the sky by the power of her entrancing voice. She looked more beartiful than ever. Again she began dancing to her own music and danced away into the distance. Once more she returned in a similar manner, but although he was watching as eagerly as before, what with fatigue and what with gazing, he fell fast asleep before she came near him. When he awoke, it was broad daylight and the princess was nowhere.
"Thank you ever so much, good mother," answered the prince, "but there is little chance of that. The sooner I get out of this wood the better."
"I don't know about that," said the fairy.
"What do you mean?" asked the prince.
"Why how should I know?" returned she.
"I can't tell," said the prince.
"Very well," said the fairy.
"How strangely you talk!" said the prince.
"Do I?" said the fairy.
"Yes, you do," said the prince.
"Very well," said the fairy.
The prince was not used to being spoken to in this fashion, so he felt a little angry and turned and walked away. But this did not offend the fairy. She stood at the door of her little house, looking after him till the trees hid him. Then she said, "At last!" and went in.
The prince wandered and wandered, and got nowhere. The sun sank and sank and went out of sight, and he seemed no nearer the end of the wood than ever. He sat down on a fallen tree, ate a bit of bread the old woman had given him, and waited for the moon; for although he was not much of an astronomer, he knew the moon would rise sometime, because she had risen the night before. Up she came, slow and slow, but of a good size, pretty nearly round indeed; whereupon, greatly refreshed with his piece of bread, he got up and went-he knw not whither.
After walking a considerable distance, he thought he was coming to the ouside of the forest; but when he reached what he thought the last of it, he found himself only upon the edge of a great open space in it, covered with grass. The moon shone very bright, and he thought he had never seen a more lovely spot. Still it looded dreary because of its loneliness, for he could not see the house at the other side. He sat down, weary again, and gazed into the glade. He had not seen so much room for several days.
All at once he spied something in the middle of the grass. What could it be? It moved; it came nearer. Was it a human creature, gliding across-a girl dressed in white, gleaming in the moonshine? She came nearer and nearer. He crept behind a tree and watched, wondering. It must be strange being of the wood-a nymph whom the moonlight and the warm dusky air had enticed form her tree. But when she came close to where he stood, he no longer doubted she was human-for he had caught sight of her sunny hair, her clear blue eyes, and the loveliest face and form that he had ever seen. All at once she began singing like a nightingale and dancing to her own music, with her eyes ever turned toward the moon. She passed close to where he stood, dancing on by the edge of the trees and away in a great circle toward the other side, until he could see but a spot of white in the yellowish green of the moonlit grass. But when he feared it would vanish, the spot grew and became a figure once more. She approached him again, singing and dancing and waving her arms over her head, until she had completed the circle. Just opposite his tree she stood, ceased her song, dropped her arms, and broke out into a long, clear laugh, musical as a brook. Then, as tired, she threw herself on the grass, and lay gazing at the moon. The prince was almost afraid to breathe, lest he should startle her and she should wanish from his sight. As to venturing near her, that never came to his head.
She had lain for a long hour or longer, when the prince began again to doubt her reality. Perhaps she was but a vision of his own fancy. Or was she a spirit of the wood, after all? If so, he, too, would haunt the wood, glad to have lost his kingdom and everything for the hope of being near her. He would build himself a hut in the forest, and there he would live for the pure chance of seeing her again. Upon nights like this, at least, she would come out and bask in the moonlight, and make his soul blessed. But while he dreamed, she sprang to her feet, turned her face full to the moon, and began singing as if she would draw her down from the sky by the power of her entrancing voice. She looked more beartiful than ever. Again she began dancing to her own music and danced away into the distance. Once more she returned in a similar manner, but although he was watching as eagerly as before, what with fatigue and what with gazing, he fell fast asleep before she came near him. When he awoke, it was broad daylight and the princess was nowhere.
