The Grateful Prince

THE GRATEFUL PRINCE

Once upon a time the king of the Goldland lost himself in a forest, and

try as he would he could not find the way out. As he was wandering down

one path which had looked at first more hopeful than the rest he saw a

man coming towards him.

‘What are you doing here, friend?’ asked the stranger; ‘darkness is

falling fast, and soon the wild beasts will come from their lairs to

seek for food.’

‘I have lost myself,’ answered the king, ‘and am trying to get home.’

‘Then promise me that you will give me the first thing that comes out of

your house, and I will show you the way,’ said the stranger.

The king did not answer directly, but after awhile he spoke: ‘Why should

I give away my BEST sporting dog. I can surely find my way out of the

forest as well as this man.’

So the stranger left him, but the king followed path after path for

three whole days, with no better success than before. He was almost in

despair, when the stranger suddenly appeared, blocking up his way.

‘Promise you will give me the first thing that comes out of your house

to meet you?’

But still the king was stiff-necked and would promise nothing.

For some days longer he wandered up and down the forest, trying first

one path, then another, but his courage at last gave way, and he sank

wearily on the ground under a tree, feeling sure his last hour had come.

Then for the third time the stranger stood before the king, and said:

‘Why are you such a fool? What can a dog be to you, that you should give

your life for him like this? Just promise me the reward I want, and I

will guide you out of the forest.’

‘Well, my life is worth more than a thousand dogs,’ answered the king,

‘the welfare of my kingdom depends on me. I accept your terms, so

take me to my palace.’ Scarcely had he uttered the words than he found

himself at the edge of the wood, with the palace in the dim distance. He

made all the haste he could, and just as he reached the great gates out

came the nurse with the royal baby, who stretched out his arms to his

father. The king shrank back, and ordered the nurse to take the baby

away at once.

Then his great boarhound bounded up to him, but his caresses were only

answered by a violent push.

When the king’s anger was spent, and he was able to think what was best

to be done, he exchanged his baby, a beautiful boy, for the daughter of

a peasant, and the prince lived roughly as the son of poor people, while

the little girl slept in a golden cradle, under silken sheets. At the

end of a year, the stranger arrived to claim his property, and took away

the little girl, believing her to be the true child of the king. The

king was so delighted with the success of his plan that he ordered a

great feast to be got ready, and gave splendid presents to the foster

parents of his son, so that he might lack nothing. But he did not dare

to bring back the baby, lest the trick should be found out. The peasants

were quite contented with this arrangement, which gave them food and

money in abundance.

By-and-by the boy grew big and tall, and seemed to lead a happy life in

the house of his foster parents. But a shadow hung over him which really

poisoned most of his pleasure, and that was the thought of the poor

innocent girl who had suffered in his stead, for his foster father

had told him in secret, that he was the king’s son. And the prince

determined that when he grew old enough he would travel all over the

world, and never rest till he had set her free. To become king at the

cost of a maiden’s life was too heavy a price to pay. So one day he put

on the dress of a farm servant, threw a sack of peas on his back, and

marched straight into the forest where eighteen years before his father

had lost himself. After he had walked some way he began to cry loudly:

‘Oh, how unlucky I am! Where can I be? Is there no one to show me the

way out of the wood?’

Then appeared a strange man with a long grey beard, with a leather bag

hanging from his girdle. He nodded cheerfully to the prince, and said:

‘I know this place well, and can lead you out of it, if you will promise

me a good reward.’

‘What can a beggar such as I promise you?’ answered the prince. ‘I have

nothing to give you save my life; even the coat on my back belongs to my

master, whom I serve for my keep and my clothes.’

The stranger looked at the sack of peas, and said, ‘But you must possess

something; you are carrying this sack, which seems to be very heavy.’

‘It is full of peas,’ was the reply. ‘My old aunt died last night,

without leaving money enough to buy peas to give the watchers, as is

the custom throughout the country. I have borrowed these peas from my

master, and thought to take a short cut across the forest; but I have

lost myself, as you see.’

‘Then you are an orphan?’ asked the stranger. ‘Why should you not enter

my service? I want a sharp fellow in the house, and you please me.’

‘Why not, indeed, if we can strike a bargain?’ said the other. ‘I was

born a peasant, and strange bread is always bitter, so it is the same to

me whom I serve! What wages will you give me?’

‘Every day fresh food, meat twice a week, butter and vegetables, your

summer and winter clothes, and a portion of land for your own use.’

‘I shall be satisfied with that,’ said the youth. ‘Somebody else will

have to bury my aunt. I will go with you!’

Now this bargain seemed to please the old fellow so much that he spun

round like a top, and sang so loud that the whole wood rang with his

voice. Then he set out with his companion, and chattered so fast that he

never noticed that his new servant kept dropping peas out of the sack.

At night they slept under a fig tree, and when the sun rose started

on their way. About noon they came to a large stone, and here the

old fellow stopped, looked carefully round, gave a sharp whistle, and

stamped three times on the ground with his left foot. Suddenly there

appeared under the stone a secret door, which led to what looked like

the mouth of a cave. The old fellow seized the youth by the arm, and

said roughly, ‘Follow me!’

Thick darkness surrounded them, yet it seemed to the prince as if their

path led into still deeper depths. After a long while he thought he saw

a glimmer of light, but the light was neither that of the sun nor of

the moon. He looked eagerly at it, but found it was only a kind of pale

cloud, which was all the light this strange underworld could boast.

Earth and water, trees and plants, birds and beasts, each was different

from those he had seen before; but what most struck terror into his

heart was the absolute stillness that reigned everywhere. Not a rustle

or a sound could be heard. Here and there he noticed a bird sitting on a

branch, with head erect and swelling throat, but his ear caught nothing.

The dogs opened their mouths as if to bark, the toiling oxen seemed

about to bellow, but neither bark nor bellow reached the prince. The

water flowed noiselessly over the pebbles, the wind bowed the tops of

the trees, flies and chafers darted about, without breaking the silence.

The old greybeard uttered no word, and when his companion tried to ask

him the meaning of it all he felt that his voice died in his throat.

How long this fearful stillness lasted I do not know, but the prince

gradually felt his heart turning to ice, his hair stood up like

bristles, and a cold chill was creeping down his spine, when at

last--oh, ecstasy!--a faint noise broke on his straining ears, and this

life of shadows suddenly became real. It sounded as if a troop of horses

were ploughing their way over a moor.

Then the greybeard opened his mouth, and said: ‘The kettle is boiling;

we are expected at home.’

They walked on a little further, till the prince thought he heard the

grinding of a saw-mill, as if dozens of saws were working together, but

his guide observed, ‘The grandmother is sleeping soundly; listen how she

snores.’

When they had climbed a hill which lay before them the prince saw in

the distance the house of his master, but it was so surrounded with

buildings of all kinds that the place looked more like a village or

even a small town. They reached it at last, and found an empty kennel

standing in front of the gate. ‘Creep inside this,’ said the master,

‘and wait while I go in and see my grandmother. Like all very old

people, she is very obstinate, and cannot bear fresh faces about her.’

The prince crept tremblingly into the kennel, and began to regret the

daring which had brought him into this scrape.

By-and-by the master came back, and called him from his hiding-place.

Something had put out his temper, for with a frown he said, ‘Watch

carefully our ways in the house, and beware of making any mistake, or it

will go ill with you. Keep your eyes and ears open, and your mouth shut,

obey without questions. Be grateful if you will, but never speak unless

you are spoken to.’

When the prince stepped over the threshold he caught sight of a maiden

of wonderful beauty, with brown eyes and fair curly hair. ‘Well!’ the

young man said to himself, ‘if the old fellow has many daughters like

that I should not mind being his son-in-law. This one is just what I

admire’; and he watched her lay the table, bring in the food, and take

her seat by the fire as if she had never noticed that a strange man was

present. Then she took out a needle and thread, and began to darn her

stockings. The master sat at table alone, and invited neither his new

servant nor the maid to eat with him. Neither was the old grandmother

anywhere to be seen. His appetite was tremendous: he soon cleared all

the dishes, and ate enough to satisfy a dozen men. When at last he could

eat no more he said to the girl, ‘Now you can pick up the pieces, and

take what is left in the iron pot for your own dinner, but give the

bones to the dog.’

The prince did not at all like the idea of dining off scraps, which

he helped the girl to pick up, but, after all, he found that there was

plenty to eat, and that the food was very good. During the meal he stole

many glances at the maiden, and would even have spoken to her, but

she gave him no encouragement. Every time he opened his mouth for the

purpose she looked at him sternly, as if to say, ‘Silence,’ so he could

only let his eyes speak for him. Besides, the master was stretched on a

bench by the oven after his huge meal, and would have heard everything.

After supper that night, the old man said to the prince, ‘For two days

you may rest from the fatigues of the journey, and look about the house.

But the day after to-morrow you must come with me, and I will point out

the work you have to do. The maid will show you where you are to sleep.’

The prince thought, from this, he had leave to speak, but his master

turned on him with a face of thunder and exclaimed:

‘You dog of a servant! If you disobey the laws of the house you will

soon find yourself a head shorter! Hold your tongue, and leave me in

peace.’

The girl made a sign to him to follow her, and, throwing open a door,

nodded to him to go in. He would have lingered a moment, for he thought

she looked sad, but dared not do so, for fear of the old man’s anger.

‘It is impossible that she can be his daughter!’ he said to himself,

‘for she has a kind heart. I am quite sure she must be the same girl who

was brought here instead of me, so I am bound to risk my head in this

mad adventure.’ He got into bed, but it was long before he fell asleep,

and even then his dreams gave him no rest. He seemed to be surrounded by

dangers, and it was only the power of the maiden who helped him through

it all.

When he woke his first thoughts were for the girl, whom he found hard at

work. He drew water from the well and carried it to the house for her,

kindled the fire under the iron pot, and, in fact, did everything that

came into his head that could be of any use to her. In the afternoon

he went out, in order to learn something of his new home, and wondered

greatly not to come across the old grandmother. In his rambles he came

to the farmyard, where a beautiful white horse had a stall to itself; in

another was a black cow with two white-faced calves, while the clucking

of geese, ducks, and hens reached him from a distance.

Breakfast, dinner, and supper were as savoury as before, and the prince

would have been quite content with his quarters had it not been for

the difficulty of keeping silence in the presence of the maiden. On the

evening of the second day he went, as he had been told, to receive his

orders for the following morning.

‘I am going to set you something very easy to do to-morrow,’ said the

old man when his servant entered. ‘Take this scythe and cut as much

grass as the white horse will want for its day’s feed, and clean out its

stall. If I come back and find the manger empty it will go ill with you.

So beware!’

The prince left the room, rejoicing in his heart, and saying to himself,

‘Well, I shall soon get through that! If I have never yet handled either

the plough or the scythe, at least I have often watched the country

people work them, and know how easy it is.’

He was just going to open his door, when the maiden glided softly past

and whispered in his ear: ‘What task has he set you?’

‘For to-morrow,’ answered the prince, ‘it is really nothing at all! Just

to cut hay for the horse, and to clean out his stall!’

‘Oh, luckless being!’ sighed the girl; ‘how will you ever get through

with it. The white horse, who is our master’s grandmother, is always

hungry: it takes twenty men always mowing to keep it in food for one

day, and another twenty to clean out its stall. How, then, do you expect

to do it all by yourself? But listen to me, and do what I tell you. It

is your only chance. When you have filled the manger as full as it will

hold you must weave a strong plait of the rushes which grow among the

meadow hay, and cut a thick peg of stout wood, and be sure that the

horse sees what you are doing. Then it will ask you what it is for, and

you will say, ‘With this plait I intend to bind up your mouth so that

you cannot eat any more, and with this peg I am going to keep you still

in one spot, so that you cannot scatter your corn and water all over

the place!’ After these words the maiden went away as softly as she had

come.

Early the next morning he set to work. His scythe danced through the

grass much more easily than he had hoped, and soon he had enough to fill

the manger. He put it in the crib, and returned with a second supply,

when to his horror he found the crib empty.

Then he knew that without the maiden’s advice he would certainly have

been lost, and began to put it into practice. He took out the rushes

which had somehow got mixed up with the hay, and plaited them quickly.

‘My son, what are you doing?’ asked the horse wonderingly.

‘Oh, nothing!’ replied he. ‘Just weaving a chin strap to bind your jaws

together, in case you might wish to eat any more!’

The white horse sighed deeply when it heard this, and made up its mind

to be content with what it had eaten.

The youth next began to clean out the stall, and the horse knew it had

found a master; and by mid-day there was still fodder in the manger,

and the place was as clean as a new pin. He had barely finished when in

walked the old man, who stood astonished at the door.

‘Is it really you who have been clever enough to do that?’ he asked. ‘Or

has some one else given you a hint?’

‘Oh, I have had no help,’ replied the prince, ‘except what my poor weak

head could give me.’

The old man frowned, and went away, and the prince rejoiced that

everything had turned out so well.

In the evening his master said, ‘To-morrow I have no special task to set

you, but as the girl has a great deal to do in the house you must milk

the black cow for her. But take care you milk her dry, or it may be the

worse for you.’

‘Well,’ thought the prince as he went away, ‘unless there is some trick

behind, this does not sound very hard. I have never milked a cow before,

but I have good strong fingers.’

He was very sleepy, and was just going toward his room, when the maiden

came to him and asked: ‘What is your task to-morrow?’

‘I am to help you,’ he answered, ‘and have nothing to do all day, except

to milk the black cow dry.’

‘Oh, you are unlucky,’ cried she. ‘If you were to try from morning till

night you couldn’t do it. There is only one way of escaping the danger,

and that is, when you go to milk her, take with you a pan of burning

coals and a pair of tongs. Place the pan on the floor of the stall, and

the tongs on the fire, and blow with all your might, till the coals burn

brightly. The black cow will ask you what is the meaning of all this,

and you must answer what I will whisper to you.’ And she stood on

tip-toe and whispered something in his ear, and then went away.

The dawn had scarcely reddened the sky when the prince jumped out of

bed, and, with the pan of coals in one hand and the milk pail in the

other, went straight to the cow’s stall, and began to do exactly as the

maiden had told him the evening before.

The black cow watched him with surprise for some time, and then said:

‘What are you doing, sonny?’

‘Oh, nothing,’ answered he; ‘I am only heating a pair of tongs in case

you may not feel inclined to give as much milk as I want.’

The cow sighed deeply, and looked at the milkman with fear, but he took

no notice, and milked briskly into the pail, till the cow ran dry.

Just at that moment the old man entered the stable, and sat down to milk

the cow himself, but not a drop of milk could he get. ‘Have you really

managed it all yourself, or did somebody help you?’

‘I have nobody to help me,’ answered the prince, ‘but my own poor head.’

The old man got up from his seat and went away.

That night, when the prince went to his master to hear what his next

day’s work was to be, the old man said: ‘I have a little hay-stack out

in the meadow which must be brought in to dry. To-morrow you will have

to stack it all in the shed, and, as you value your life, be careful not

to leave the smallest strand behind.’ The prince was overjoyed to hear

he had nothing worse to do.

‘To carry a little hay-rick requires no great skill,’ thought he, ‘and

it will give me no trouble, for the horse will have to draw it in. I am

certainly not going to spare the old grandmother.’

By-and-by the maiden stole up to ask what task he had for the next day.

The young man laughed, and said: ‘It appears that I have got to learn

all kinds of farmer’s work. To-morrow I have to carry a hay-rick, and

leave not a stalk in the meadow, and that is my whole day’s work!’

‘Oh, you unlucky creature!’ cried she; ‘and how do you think you are to

do it. If you had all the men in the world to help you, you could not

clear off this one little hay-rick in a week. The instant you have

thrown down the hay at the top, it will take root again from below. But

listen to what I say. You must steal out at daybreak to-morrow and

bring out the white horse and some good strong ropes. Then get on the

hay-stack, put the ropes round it, and harness the horse to the ropes.

When you are ready, climb up the hay-stack and begin to count one, two,

three.

The horse will ask you what you are counting, and you must be sure to

answer what I whisper to you.’

So the maiden whispered something in his ear, and left the room. And the

prince knew nothing better to do than to get into bed.

He slept soundly, and it was still almost dark when he got up and

proceeded to carry out the instructions given him by the girl. First he

chose some stout ropes, and then he led the horse out of the stable and

rode it to the hay-stack, which was made up of fifty cartloads, so that

it could hardly be called ‘a little one.’ The prince did all that the

maiden had told him, and when at last he was seated on top of the rick,

and had counted up to twenty, he heard the horse ask in amazement: ‘What

are you counting up there, my son?’

‘Oh, nothing,’ said he, ‘I was just amusing myself with counting the

packs of wolves in the forest, but there are really so many of them that

I don’t think I should ever be done.’

The word ‘wolf’ was hardly out of his mouth than the white horse was

off like the wind, so that in the twinkling of an eye it had reached

the shed, dragging the hay-stack behind it. The master was dumb with

surprise as he came in after breakfast and found his man’s day’s work

quite done.

‘Was it really you who were so clever?’ asked he. ‘Or did some one give

you good advice?’

‘Oh, I have only myself to take counsel with,’ said the prince, and the

old man went away, shaking his head.

Late in the evening the prince went to his master to learn what he was

to do next day.

‘To-morrow,’ said the old man, ‘you must bring the white-headed calf to

the meadow, and, as you value your life, take care it does not escape

from you.’

The prince answered nothing, but thought, ‘Well, most peasants of

nineteen have got a whole herd to look after, so surely I can manage

one.’ And he went towards his room, where the maiden met him.

‘To morrow I have got an idiot’s work,’ said he; ‘nothing but to take

the white-headed calf to the meadow.’

‘Oh, you unlucky being!’ sighed she. ‘Do you know that this calf is so

swift that in a single day he can run three times round the world? Take

heed to what I tell you. Bind one end of this silk thread to the left

fore-leg of the calf, and the other end to the little toe of your left

foot, so that the calf will never be able to leave your side, whether

you walk, stand, or lie.’ After this the prince went to bed and slept

soundly.

The next morning he did exactly what the maiden had told him, and led

the calf with the silken thread to the meadow, where it stuck to his

side like a faithful dog.

By sunset, it was back again in its stall, and then came the master and

said, with a frown, ‘Were you really so clever yourself, or did somebody

tell you what to do?’

‘Oh, I have only my own poor head,’ answered the prince, and the old man

went away growling, ‘I don’t believe a word of it! I am sure you have

found some clever friend!’

In the evening he called the prince and said: ‘To-morrow I have no work

for you, but when I wake you must come before my bed, and give me your

hand in greeting.’

The young man wondered at this strange freak, and went laughing in

search of the maiden.

‘Ah, it is no laughing matter,’ sighed she. ‘He means to eat you, and

there is only one way in which I can help you. You must heat an iron

shovel red hot, and hold it out to him instead of your hand.’

So next morning he wakened very early, and had heated the shovel before

the old man was awake. At length he heard him calling, ‘You lazy fellow,

where are you? Come and wish me good morning.’

But when the prince entered with the red-hot shovel his master only

said, ‘I am very ill to-day, and too weak even to touch your hand. You

must return this evening, when I may be better.’

The prince loitered about all day, and in the evening went back to the

old man’s room. He was received in the most; friendly manner, and, to

his surprise, his master exclaimed, ‘I am very well satisfied with you.

Come to me at dawn and bring the maiden with you. I know you have long

loved each other, and I wish to make you man and wife.’

The young man nearly jumped into the air for joy, but, remembering the

rules of the house, he managed to keep still. When he told the maiden,

he saw to his astonishment that she had become as white as a sheet, and

she was quite dumb.

‘The old man has found out who was your counsellor,’ she said when she

could speak, ‘and he means to destroy us both.’ We must escape somehow,

or else we shall be lost. Take an axe, and cut off the head of the calf

with one blow. With a second, split its head in two, and in its brain

you will see a bright red ball. Bring that to me. Meanwhile, I will do

what is needful here.

And the prince thought to himself, ‘Better kill the calf than be killed

ourselves. If we can once escape, we will go back home. The peas which I

strewed about must have sprouted, so that we shall not miss the way.’

Then he went into the stall, and with one blow of the axe killed the

calf, and with the second split its brain. In an instant the place was

filled with light, as the red ball fell from the brain of the calf. The

prince picked it up, and, wrapping it round with a thick cloth, hid it

in his bosom. Mercifully, the cow slept through it all, or by her cries

she would have awakened the master.

He looked round, and at the door stood the maiden, holding a little

bundle in her arms.

‘Where is the ball?’ she asked.

‘Here,’ answered he.

‘We must lose no time in escaping,’ she went on, and uncovered a tiny

bit of the shining ball, to light them on their way.

As the prince had expected the peas had taken root, and grown into a

little hedge, so that they were sure they would not lose the path.

As they fled, the girl told him that she had overheard a conversation

between the old man and his grandmother, saying that she was a king’s

daughter, whom the old fellow had obtained by cunning from her parents.

The prince, who knew all about the affair, was silent, though he was

glad from his heart that it had fallen to his lot to set her free. So

they went on till the day began to dawn.

The old man slept very late that morning, and rubbed his eyes till he

was properly awake. Then he remembered that very soon the couple were

to present themselves before him. After waiting and waiting till quite

a long time had passed, he said to himself, with a grin, ‘Well, they are

not in much hurry to be married,’ and waited again.

At last he grew a little uneasy, and cried loudly, ‘Man and maid! what

has become of you?’

After repeating this many times, he became quite frightened, but, call

as he would, neither man nor maid appeared. At last he jumped angrily

out of bed to go in search of the culprits, but only found an empty

house, and beds that had never been slept in.

Then he went straight to the stable, where the sight of the dead calf

told him all. Swearing loudly, he opened the door of the third stall

quickly, and cried to his goblin servants to go and chase the fugitives.

‘Bring them to me, however you may find them, for have them I must!’ he

said. So spake the old man, and the servants fled like the wind.

The runaways were crossing a great plain, when the maiden stopped.

‘Something has happened!’ she said. ‘The ball moves in my hand, and

I’m sure we are being followed!’ and behind them they saw a black cloud

flying before the wind. Then the maiden turned the ball thrice in her

hand, and cried,

      ‘Listen to me, my ball, my ball.

        Be quick and change me into a brook,

       And my lover into a little fish.’

And in an instant there was a brook with a fish swimming in it. The

goblins arrived just after, but, seeing nobody, waited for a little,

then hurried home, leaving the brook and the fish undisturbed. When they

were quite out of sight, the brook and the fish returned to their usual

shapes and proceeded on their journey.

When the goblins, tired and with empty hands, returned, their master

inquired what they had seen, and if nothing strange had befallen them.

‘Nothing,’ said they; ‘the plain was quite empty, save for a brook and a

fish swimming in it.’

‘Idiots!’ roared the master; ‘of course it was they!’ And dashing open

the door of the fifth stall, he told the goblins inside that they must

go and drink up the brook, and catch the fish. And the goblins jumped

up, and flew like the wind.

The young pair had almost reached the edge of the wood, when the maiden

stopped again. ‘Something has happened,’ said she. ‘The ball is moving

in my hand,’ and looking round she beheld a cloud flying towards them,

large and blacker than the first, and striped with red. ‘Those are our

pursuers,’ cried she, and turning the ball three times in her hand she

spoke to it thus:

      ‘Listen to me, my ball, my ball.

        Be quick and change us both.

        Me into a wild rose bush,

     And him into a rose on my stem.’

And in the twinkling of an eye it was done. Only just in time too, for

the goblins were close at hand, and looked round eagerly for the stream

and the fish. But neither stream nor fish was to be seen; nothing but a

rose bush. So they went sorrowing home, and when they were out of sight

the rose bush and rose returned to their proper shapes and walked all

the faster for the little rest they had had.

‘Well, did you find them?’ asked the old man when his goblins came back.

‘No,’ replied the leader of the goblins, ‘we found neither brook nor

fish in the desert.’

‘And did you find nothing else at all?’

‘Oh, nothing but a rose tree on the edge of a wood, with a rose hanging

on it.’

‘Idiots!’ cried he. ‘Why, that was they.’ And he threw open the door of

the seventh stall, where his mightiest goblins were locked in. ‘Bring

them to me, however you find them, dead or alive!’ thundered he, ‘for I

will have them! Tear up the rose tree and the roots too, and don’t leave

anything behind, however strange it may be!’

The fugitives were resting in the shade of a wood, and were refreshing

themselves with food and drink. Suddenly the maiden looked up.

‘Something has happened,’ said she. ‘The ball has nearly jumped out of

my bosom! Some one is certainly following us, and the danger is near,

but the trees hide our enemies from us.’

As she spoke she took the ball in her hand, and said:

      ‘Listen to me, my ball, my ball.

        Be quick and change me into a breeze,

       And make my lover into a midge.’

An instant, and the girl was dissolved into thin air, while the prince

darted about like a midge. The next moment a crowd of goblins rushed up,

and looked about in search of something strange, for neither a rose bush

nor anything else was to be seen. But they had hardly turned their backs

to go home empty-handed when the prince and the maiden stood on the

earth again.

‘We must make all the haste we can,’ said she, ‘before the old man

himself comes to seek us, for he will know us under any disguise.’

They ran on till they reached such a dark part of the forest that, if

it had not been for the light shed by the ball, they could not have

made their way at all. Worn out and breathless, they came at length to

a large stone, and here the ball began to move restlessly. The maiden,

seeing this, exclaimed:

      ‘Listen to me, my ball, my ball.

        Roll the stone quickly to one side,

       That we may find a door.’

And in a moment the stone had rolled away, and they had passed through

the door to the world again.

‘Now we are safe,’ cried she. ‘Here the old wizard has no more power

over us, and we can guard ourselves from his spells. But, my friend, we

have to part! You will return to your parents, and I must go in search

of mine.’

‘No! no!’ exclaimed the prince. ‘I will never part from you. You

must come with me and be my wife. We have gone through many troubles

together, and now we will share our joys. The maiden resisted his words

for some time, but at last she went with him.

In the forest they met a woodcutter, who told them that in the palace,

as well as in all the land, there had been great sorrow over the loss

of the prince, and many years had now passed away during which they had

found no traces of him. So, by the help of the magic ball, the maiden

managed that he should put on the same clothes that he had been wearing

at the time he had vanished, so that his father might know him more

quickly. She herself stayed behind in a peasant’s hut, so that father

and son might meet alone.

But the father was no longer there, for the loss of his son had killed

him; and on his deathbed he confessed to his people how he had contrived

that the old wizard should carry away a peasant’s child instead of the

prince, wherefore this punishment had fallen upon him.

The prince wept bitterly when he heard this news, for he had loved his

father well, and for three days he ate and drank nothing. But on the

fourth day he stood in the presence of his people as their new king,

and, calling his councillors, he told them all the strange things that

had befallen him, and how the maiden had borne him safe through all.

And the councillors cried with one voice, ‘Let her be your wife, and our

liege lady.’

And that is the end of the story.

(Ehstnische Marchen.)