The Hero of Esthonia and Other Studies in the Romantic Literature of That Country Part 19

As soon as the prince's master heard the queen's desire, he at once released the herd-boy from his service. He thanked his stars that he had got out of the sc.r.a.pe so easily. The queen's messenger now took the lad to the farm to which she had consigned him without his consent. The wicked old woman shouted for joy when she heard that the queen had found her a herd-boy, and sent word that she might treat him as she pleased, because the youth was very perverse, and nothing good was to be got out of him. She did not know how hard the new millstone was, and hoped to treat him in her usual fas.h.i.+on; but she was soon to discover that this fence was too high to jump over, and that the youth would not sacrifice a hair's-breadth of his rights. If she gave him a single bad word without cause, he gave her a dozen back; and if she lifted her hand against him, he caught up a stone or a log of wood, or anything else which happened to come to hand, and cried out, "Don't dare to come a step nearer, or I'll split your skull and mash you to soup." The woman had never heard such language from anybody, least of all from her servants; but her husband rejoiced in secret when he heard her quarrelling, and he did not stand by his wife, for the boy did not neglect his duty. The woman tried to break the boy's spirit with hunger, and refused him food, but the boy helped himself by force to whatever he could find, and helped himself to milk from the cow besides, so that he was never hungry. The more difficult she found it to manage the boy, the more she vented her rage on her husband and others about her. When the prince had led this vexatious life for some weeks, and found that each day was like the other, he determined to pay the old woman out for her wickedness in such a fas.h.i.+on that the world should be quite rid of such a monster. In order to carry out his design, he caught a dozen wolves and shut them up in a cave, and he threw them a beast from his flock every day, so that they should not starve. Who can describe the woman's rage when she saw her property gradually dwindling, for every day the boy brought home an animal less than he had taken to pasture in the morning, and his only answer when questioned was, "The wolves have devoured it." She screamed like a maniac, and threatened to throw the boy to the wild beasts to devour, but he answered, laughing, "Wouldn't your own savage meat be better for them?" Then he left the wolves for three days without food in the cave, and at night, when every one was asleep, he drove the herd from their stall, and put the twelve wolves in instead, fastening the door securely, so that the wild beasts should not escape. When he had thus arranged everything, he turned his back on the farm, for he had long been tired of playing herd-boy, and now felt strong enough for greater undertakings.[153]

But what horrors happened next morning, when the woman went into the stall to let out the animals and to milk the cows! The wolves, maddened with hunger, rushed upon her, pulled her down, and devoured the whole of her, clothes and skin, and hair and all, so that nothing remained but her tongue and heart, which were too poisonous for even the wild beasts to touch. Neither her husband nor her servants lamented the misfortune, for every one was delighted to be rid of such an infernal woman.

The prince wandered about the world for some years, trying his hand first at one trade and then at another, but he never stayed long in one place, for the recollections of his childhood, which hovered about him like vivid dreams, always warned him that he was born to a higher condition. From time to time he encountered the old man again, who had read this in his eyes while he was still a herd-boy. When the prince was eighteen years old, he engaged himself to a gardener to learn gardening.

Just at this time an event happened which changed the course of his life. The wicked old woman who had taken him away by the queen's orders, and had given him into the charge of the people at the forest-farm, confessed her crime to the priest on her death-bed, for her soul was burdened with the weight of her sins, and could not find rest till she had revealed it. She indicated the farmhouse to which she had brought the child, but could not tell whether the prince was now living or dead. The priest hastened to the king with the joyful tidings that a trace of his lost son was found at last. The king informed no one of what he had heard, but immediately ordered his horse to be saddled, and set out on his way with three faithful attendants. In a few days they reached the farm in the wood. Both the farmer and his wife confirmed the fact that at such and such a time a male child had been given into their charge to rear, and that they had received one hundred roubles at the same time for their expenses. They had concluded from this circ.u.mstance that the child was probably of high birth, but they had never supposed that he was of royal descent, and had thought that the boy was only jesting when he had called himself a prince. Then the farmer himself attended the king to the village where he had taken the youth as herd-boy, not, indeed, by his own wish, but at the request of the boy, who could not live longer in that lonely place. But how shocked was the farmer, and still more the king, when they did not find the boy, who must now be grown to a young man, in the village, and could learn no further tidings of him! All that the people could tell them was that the boy was summoned before the court at the suit of a n.o.ble lady, and that he had been acquitted and set at liberty; but after this one of the queen's servants had taken the boy away and put him to service at another farm. The king hastened thither, and found that his son had indeed been there for a few weeks, but he had fled, and nothing more had been heard of him. Where should they now seek for advice, and who was able to direct their search aright?

While the king was thus greatly troubled at losing all traces of his son, the old man who had several times encountered the prince presented himself and said that he knew such a young man as they sought for, who had first served as a herdsman and had afterwards worked at several other occupations, and that he hoped to be able to discover him. The king promised the old man a rich reward if he could help him to find his son, and he ordered one of his attendants to dismount from his horse, and pressed the old man to mount, so that they could travel quicker; but he said, smiling, "No matter how fast a horse can run, my legs can run as fast, for they have traversed larger districts of the world than any horse." In fact, in a week's time they came upon the traces of the prince, and found him in the grounds of a magnificent mansion, where he was engaged as gardener. The king's joy was unbounded when he recovered his son, whom he had mourned for so many years as dead. Tears of joy streamed down his cheeks as he strained his son to his breast and kissed him. But he heard tidings from his son's mouth which damped the joy of their meeting, and caused him fresh trouble. The gardener had a young and beautiful daughter, fairer than all the flowers in this splendid garden, and as pure and good as an angel. The prince had lost his heart to this maiden, and he told his father plainly that he would never marry a lady of higher rank, but would take the gardener's daughter as his consort, even if he should be forced to abandon his kingdom for her.

"Come home first," said the king, "and afterwards we will talk the matter over." Then the prince asked his father for a costly gold ring, and put it on the maiden's finger before the eyes of all, saying, "With this ring I betroth thee, and I will return, whether the time be long or short, to claim thee as my bride." But the king answered, "No, not so; the affair shall be arranged otherwise." He took the ring from the maiden's finger and clove it in twain with his sword. One half he gave to his son, and the other to the gardener's daughter, and said, "If G.o.d has created you for one another, the two halves of the ring will grow together of themselves at the proper time, so that the point at which the ring was divided cannot be detected. Let each keep their half till the time shall be fulfilled."

The queen was ready to burst with rage when she saw her stepson, whom she thought had disappeared for ever, suddenly return as the undisputed heir to the throne, for the king had only two daughters by his second marriage. A few years afterwards the king closed his eyes in death, and his son became king. Notwithstanding the great wrongs which he had received from his stepmother, he would not return evil for evil, but left her to the justice of G.o.d. Although she no longer hoped to set one of her daughters on the throne in his place, she hoped at least to wed him to a n.o.ble lady of her own family; but he answered, "I will not consent, for I have chosen my bride long since." When the queen-dowager learned that the young king was resolved to marry a maiden of low birth, she incited the highest councillors of the kingdom to attempt unanimously to prevent it. But the king remained firm, and would not yield. After the matter had been discussed for a long time, the king announced his final decision. "We will give a great feast, and invite all the princesses and all the other unmarried ladies of high birth; and if I find one among them who surpa.s.ses my chosen bride in grace and beauty, I will marry her. But if this is not the case, my betrothed shall become my consort."

Thereupon a magnificent feast was prepared in the royal palace, which was to last a fortnight, that the king might have full opportunity of considering whether any of the ladies surpa.s.sed the gardener's daughter.

All the great ladies in the neighbourhood were invited to bring their daughters to the feast, and as the object of the gathering was generally known, every maiden hoped that the great prize would fall to her. The feast drew to a close, and yet the king had not met with one who pleased his fancy. On the last day of the feast the highest councillors of the kingdom again presented themselves before the king, and said, as the queen had instructed them, that if the king did not make his choice before evening, an insurrection might break out, for all his subjects wished the king to marry. The king replied, "I will accede to the wish of my subjects, and will announce my choice this evening." Then, unknown to the others, he sent a trustworthy messenger to bring the gardener's daughter away secretly, and to keep her in concealment till evening. In the evening the royal palace was ablaze with light, and all the great ladies were robed in their most elegant attire, expecting the moment which should bring them good fortune or the reverse. But the king advanced to a young lady in the hall who was so m.u.f.fled up that you could hardly see the tip of her nose. All were struck with the simple dress of the stranger. She was clothed in fine white linen, and wore neither silk, satin, nor gold, while all the other ladies were robed from head to foot in silks and satins. Some curled their lips, and others turned up their noses, but the king took no notice, but loosed the maiden's head-gear, and led her to the queen-dowager, saying, "Here is my chosen bride, whom I will take as my consort, and I invite all who are here a.s.sembled to my wedding." The queen-dowager cried out angrily, "What better could be expected of a man who was reared as a herd-boy? If you want to go back to your business, take the maid with you, who may perhaps understand tending swine, but is quite unfit for a king's consort. Such a peasant girl can only disgrace the throne of a king."

These words moved the king to anger, and he answered sternly, "I am king, and can do what I will, but woe to you who have brought my former condition to my remembrance; and you have also reminded me who reduced me to this. However, as no sensible man buys a cat in a sack, I will show you all before we separate that I could nowhere have found a more suitable bride than this very maiden, who is as pure and good as an angel from heaven." As he spoke, he left the room, but soon returned with the old man whom he had known ever since he was a herd-boy, and who had afterwards put the king on the track of his son. The old man was a famous sorcerer from Finland, who knew many secret arts. The king said, "Mighty sorcerer, show us by your art the inmost character of the maidens here present, that we may know which of them is most worthy to become my bride." The sorcerer took a bottle filled with a liquid that looked like wine, muttered a spell over it, and directed the maidens to gather in the midst of the hall. He then sprinkled a few drops on the head of each, and they all fell asleep as they stood. But what a wonderful thing now happened! In a short time they were all so transformed that none retained her human shape, but some were changed into snakes, wolves, bears, toads, swine, or cats, and others became hawks or other birds of prey. But among all these b.e.s.t.i.a.l forms was a beautiful rose-bush, covered with flowers, and with two doves nestling on its branches. And this was the gardener's daughter whom the king had chosen as his consort. Then said the king, "We have now seen the inmost kernel of each, and I am not going to let myself be dazzled by the outer sh.e.l.l." The queen-dowager could not contain herself for rage, but the matter was so clear that she was unable to help herself. Then the sorcerer fumigated all the maidens with magic herbs, which roused them from their sleep and restored them to their human shapes. The king received his beloved from the rose-bush, and asked for her half-ring, and when the maiden drew it from her bosom, he took his own half-ring, and laid them together on the palm of his hand, when the two halves immediately united, and no eye could perceive a crack or any indication of the spot where the sword-stroke had cleft the ring. "Now my honoured father's wish has come to pa.s.s," said the young king, and celebrated his union with the gardener's daughter on the same evening. He invited all those present to a wedding-feast, but the n.o.ble ladies had learned what wonders had taken place during their sleep, and they returned home full of shame. But so much the greater was the joy of the king's subjects that their queen was a perfect woman both in form and character.

When the wedding festivities were ended, the king a.s.sembled all the leading judges of the kingdom and asked them what punishment was fitting for a criminal who had secretly stolen away the king's son, and had him brought up in a peasant's cot as a herd-boy, and had afterwards treated the youth with insolent contempt after he had recovered his former position. All the judges answered with one accord, "Such a criminal is worthy to die on the gallows." Then said the king, "Good! let the queen-dowager be brought to trial." The queen-dowager was summoned, and the sentence was announced to her. When she heard it, she turned as white as the wall, and fell on her knees before the young king pleading for mercy. The king said, "I give you your life, and I should never have brought you before the court if it had not happened that you lately insulted me respecting the misfortunes which I endured through your crime; but you cannot remain in my kingdom any longer. You must pack up your goods this very day, and quit my city before sundown. An escort will accompany you to the frontier. But beware lest you ever set foot again in my territories, for any man, even the meanest, has leave to kill you like a mad dog. Your daughters, who are also the daughters of my honoured father, may remain here, for they are innocent of the crimes which rest upon your soul."

Now that the queen-dowager was banished, the young king built two pretty houses near his city, one of which he a.s.signed to the parents of his bride, and the other to his own foster-father, who had so carefully brought up the helpless prince. The prince who had grown up as a herd-boy and his low-born bride lived happily to the end, and ruled their subjects with as much affection as parents their children.

The story of Tiidu[154] the Flute-player introduces us to a mysterious old man, and is therefore given a place after the narrative of the stolen prince. It contains many points of interest, including the cosmopolitan incident of the Nose-tree (which, however, some critics suggest is probably a recent addition); but it is long and tedious in the original, and therefore only an abstract is given here.

[Footnote 151: Compare pages 246 and 248.]

[Footnote 152: The word translated "lout" means literally "filthy-nose."]

[Footnote 153: In the _Kalevala_, Runo 33, Kullervo revenges himself in the same manner upon the wife of Ilmarinen, whom he has been serving as herd-boy, and who has treated him with great cruelty and harshness.]

[Footnote 154: t.i.tus.]

TIIDU THE FLUTE-PLAYER.

A poor man with a large family had among them a lazy useless son who would do nothing but play tunes on a willow-pipe. One day a strange old man pa.s.sed by, and asked what trade he would prefer. He replied that he would like to be rich and independent. The old man advised him to make use of the gift he had, and to earn money enough by playing on his willow-flute to buy a flute.[155] So Tiidu left his home without telling his parents of his intention, but they were glad enough to be rid of him. He wandered from village to village till he had earned enough money to buy a good flute, and in a few years he became a famous and prosperous flute-player. But his avarice left him no peace, and he heard so much of the wealth of the land of Kungla, that he longed to go there to make his fortune.

One day he arrived at the town of Narva, where he found a s.h.i.+p just sailing for Kungla; but as he could not afford to pay his pa.s.sage, he contrived to smuggle himself on board with the aid of one of the sailors. On the following night, Tiidu's friend threw him into the sea with a rope round his body, when Tiidu began to cry for help, and his friend roused the other sailors. The captain crossed himself thrice, and on being a.s.sured by the sailors that it was not a spirit but a mortal man, ordered a rope to be thrown to the aid of the swimmer. As soon as Tiidu seized the rope, he cut away that which was fastened round him, and on being hauled on board, pretended to have swum from the sh.o.r.e. On this the captain offered him a free pa.s.sage, and he amused the crew with his flute during the voyage.

When Tiidu reached Kungla, he set out for the capital, which he found to be a city of great wealth and splendour. He was afraid to try his luck with his flute, and after many days he succeeded in obtaining a post as kitchen-boy. All the utensils were of gold and silver, the food was cooked in silver pots, the cakes were baked in silver pans, and dinner was served up in golden cups and dishes, and even the pigs fed from silver pails. Tiidu's month's wages were larger than he would have earned in a year at home, but still he was very discontented.

One day Tiidu's master gave a christening, and distributed fine clothes to his servants; and next Sunday Tiidu put them on and went to a pleasure-garden, where he met his old friend who had advised him to play the flute, and who now reproached him for having neglected to use it in Kungla. He made him fetch it and begin to play, when a crowd gathered round, who made a good collection for Tiidu. The old man gave Tiidu full instructions how to follow the vocation of a flute-player profitably, and Tiidu followed his advice and grew very rich.

At last he decided to return home, and chartered a s.h.i.+p to convey himself and his treasures to his native land; but a great storm arose, the s.h.i.+p was wrecked, and only Tiidu contrived to struggle ash.o.r.e. He lay dazed for a time, and dreamed that the old man visited him, and gave him a pull from his flask. Next morning, much refreshed, he wandered into the country, which he found to be an uninhabited island. He now repented of his undutiful conduct in leaving his parents, and felt his sad plight to be a fitting punishment for his fault.

All at once he saw a tree with beautiful red apples, feasted on them, lay down to sleep for the night, breakfasted on the apples, and walked on; but on stooping down to drink at a spring, he saw to his horror that his nose hung down to his middle, and looked like the wattles of an enraged turkey-c.o.c.k; and the more he lamented his misfortune, the bigger and bluer became his nose. At last he discovered a nut-tree, and found that eating a few nuts restored his nose to its natural state. So he laid in a stock of nuts, wove himself a basket, which he filled with apples, and then slept under the tree, when the old man appeared to him in a dream, advised him to return to the sh.o.r.e, and gave him a new flute.

When he reached the sh.o.r.e, he was picked up by a pa.s.sing vessel, and returned to Kungla, where he disguised himself, sold the apples at the palace, and next day presented himself in another guise as a learned foreign physician to cure the king and the royal family of the turkey-disease. In return, Tiidu asked only as much reward as would enable him to purchase an estate on which he could live comfortably for the rest of his life, but the king cheerfully gave him three times as much as he asked, and Tiidu then went to the harbour and sailed home.

First, however, he paid his pa.s.sage-money to the captain who had rescued him from the desert island.

On reaching home, Tiidu found his father and several brothers and sisters still living, but his mother and some of his brothers were dead.

He bought an estate, invited the whole family to a great feast, and revealed himself to them, and he insisted that they should all settle on his estate, and that his father should stay with him in his own house as long as he lived.

A little later he married a good and pretty but dowerless girl, and on entering the bridal chamber they found that it contained all the treasures which Tiidu had lost at sea, with a paper attached: "Even the depths of the sea restore the treasures which they have stolen to a good son who cares for parents and relatives." But Tiidu never discovered anything about the aged enchanter who had been his friend and protector.

[Footnote 155: Here, as well as in the stories relative to the Thunder-G.o.d's musical instrument, Lowe calls it a bagpipe; but I do not find this meaning for the word in the dictionaries. Still, in the present story, it appears to have been a rather expensive instrument.]

THE LUCKY EGG.

(KREUTZWALD.)

Once upon a time a poor man lived in a great forest with his wife. G.o.d had given them eight children, and the elder ones were already earning their living with strangers. So the parents were not much rejoiced when a ninth little son was born to them in their old age. But as G.o.d had given it to them, they were obliged to accept it, and to have it christened according to Christian usage. But they could find no one willing to stand sponsor for the child, for everybody thought that if the parents died, the child would be left a burden on their hands. Then said the father, "I will take the child and carry it to church next Sunday, and say that although I can find no sponsors for the child, the parson may please himself. Then, whether he christens the child or not, no sin can rest on my soul."

When he set out on Sunday, he found a beggar sitting by the wayside near his house, who asked for alms. The father said, "I have nothing to give you, dear brother, for I must pay out the few copecks which I have in my pocket for the christening. But if you will do me a kindness, come and stand G.o.dfather to my child, and afterwards go home with me, and share the christening feast which my good wife has prepared." The beggar, who had never before been invited to stand G.o.dfather to anybody's child, joyfully accepted the man's proposal, and went with him to the church.

Just as they arrived, a magnificent carriage and four drove up, and a young Saxon lady alighted from it. The poor man thought, "Now I'll try my luck for the last time." He bowed respectfully to the unknown lady, and said, "n.o.ble lady, whoever you may be! will you not have the kindness to stand G.o.dmother to my child?" The lady consented.

When the child was brought up to be baptized after the sermon, the parson and the congregation were much surprised to see a poor beggar-man and a proud handsome lady standing together as sponsors for the child.

The child was baptized by the name of Partel.[156] The rich lady paid the christening fees, and also made a christening present of three roubles, which much rejoiced the child's father. The beggar went home to the christening feast. Before leaving in the evening, he took from his pocket a small box wrapped in a piece of rag, and gave it to the child's mother, saying, "My christening gift is poor enough, but do not despise it, for it may possibly bring your son good fortune some day. I had a very clever aunt, who understood all sorts of magic arts, and before she died she gave me the bird's egg in this little box, saying, 'When something quite unexpected happens to you, which you could never have imagined, then part with this egg. If it comes into the possession of him for whom it is destined, it may bring him great good fortune. But guard the egg like the apple of your eye, that it does not break, for the sh.e.l.l of fortune is tender.' But although I am nearly sixty years old, nothing unexpected has happened to me till to-day, when I was invited to stand as G.o.dfather, and my first thought was, You must give the egg to the child as a christening gift."

The little Partel grew and prospered, and became the delight of his parents, and at the age of ten he was sent to another village to become herd-boy to a rich farmer. All the people of the household were well satisfied with the herd-boy, as he was a good quiet fellow, who never gave any annoyance to his companions. When he left home, his mother put his christening gift in his pocket, and charged him to keep it as safe as the apple of his eye, and Partel did so. There was an old lime-tree in the pasturage, and a large granite rock lay under it. The boy was very fond of this place, and every day in summer he used to go and sit on the stone under the lime-tree. Here he used to eat the lunch which was given him every morning, and he quenched his thirst at a little brook hard by. Partel had no friends.h.i.+p with the other herd-boys, who were up to all sorts of pranks. It was remarkable that there was no such fine gra.s.s anywhere as between the stone and the spring, and although the flocks grazed here every day, next morning the gra.s.s looked more like that of an enclosed meadow than of a pasturage.

When Partel slept a little while on the stone on a hot day, he had wonderfully pleasant dreams, and when he awoke, the sounds of music and song were still in his ears, so that he dreamed on after his eyes were open. The stone was like a dear friend to him, and he parted from it every day with a heavy heart, and returned to it next day full of longing. Thus Partel lived till he was fifteen years old, and was no longer to be herd-boy. His master now employed him as a farm-labourer, but did not give him any heavier work than he was able to accomplish. On Sundays and summer evenings, the other young men used to go to visit their sweethearts, but Partel did not join their company. He stole away, in deep meditation, to his favourite lime-tree in the pasturage, and often sat under it for half the night. One Sunday evening he was sitting on the stone playing the flute, when a milk-white snake crept out from under the stone. It raised its head as if to listen, and looked at Partel with its bright eyes, which shone like fire. This happened often, and whenever Partel had any time to spare, he used to hasten to the stone to see the beautiful white snake, which at last became so familiar with him that it often coiled round his leg.

Partel was now growing up to be a young man; his father and mother were dead, and his brothers and sisters lived widely scattered, and seldom heard any tidings of each other, and still more rarely met. But the white snake had grown dearer to him than his brothers and sisters, and his thoughts were with her by day, and he dreamed of her almost every night. This made the wintertime seem very long to him, when the earth was frozen and the snow lay deep on the ground. When the sun-rays melted the snow in spring and the ground was thawed, Partel's first walk was to the stone under the lime-trees, though there was not a leaf to be seen upon the tree as yet. O what joy! As soon as he breathed forth his longing in the notes of the flute, the white snake crept out from under the stone, and played about his feet. But it seemed to Partel to-day that the snake shed tears, and this made his heart sad. He now let no evening pa.s.s without visiting the stone, and the snake grew continually tamer, and she would let him stroke her; but if he tried to hold her fast, she slipped through his fingers, and crept back under the stone.

On Midsummer Eve all the villagers, old and young, went together to St.

John's fire. Partel was not allowed to stay behind, though his heart drew him in another direction. But in the midst of the fun, when all the others were singing, dancing, and amusing themselves, he slipped away to the lime-tree, the only place where his heart was at ease. When he drew near, he saw a clear bright fire s.h.i.+ning from the stone, which surprised him very much, for, as far as he knew, n.o.body but himself ever visited the spot. But when he reached the stone, the fire had disappeared, without leaving either ashes or sparks behind it. He sat down on the stone, and began to play on his flute as usual. All at once the fire blazed up again, and it was nothing else than the sparkling eyes of the white snake. She played about his feet again, allowed him to stroke her, and gazed at him as wistfully as if she was going to speak. It must have been almost midnight when the snake crept back to her nest under the stone, and did not reappear while Partel was playing. As he took the instrument from his mouth and put it in his pocket and prepared to go home, the leaves of the lime-tree rustled in the breeze so strangely that it sounded like a human voice, and he thought he heard the following words repeated several times:

"Thin-sh.e.l.led is the egg of Fortune, And the heart is full of sorrow; Venture not to spoil your fortune."

Thereupon he experienced such a painful longing that his heart was like to break, and yet he did not know himself what he pined for. He began to weep bitterly, and lamented, "What does the lucky egg avail me, when no happiness is permitted me in this world? I have felt from childhood that I was unfit to mix with men, for they do not understand me, and I do not understand them. What causes pleasure to them is painful to me, while I myself know not what could make me happy, and how then should others know it? Riches and poverty stood together as my sponsors, and therefore nothing will go right with me."

Suddenly it became as bright around him as if the mid-day sun was s.h.i.+ning on the lime-tree and the rock, and he could not open his eyes for a time, until he had got used to the light. Then he beheld a lovely female figure sitting beside him on the stone, clad in snow-white raiment, as if an angel had flown down from heaven. The maiden's voice sounded sweeter to him than the song of the nightingale as she addressed him. "Dear youth, fear nothing, but give heed to the prayer of an unhappy girl. I am imprisoned in a miserable dungeon, and if you do not pity me, I can never hope to escape. O dear youth, take pity on me, and do not cast me off! I am the daughter of a king of the East, possessed of fabulous riches in gold and silver, but all this avails me nothing, for an enchanter has compelled me to live under this stone in the form of a white snake. I have lived thus for many centuries, without ever growing older. Although I never injured any human being, all fled before my shape, as soon as they beheld me. You are the only living being who did not fly at my approach; you have even allowed me to play about your feet, and have often kindly stroked me with your hand. Your kindness has led me to hope that you might be able to effect my deliverance. Your heart is as pure as that of a child, as yet ignorant of falsehood and deception. You have all the signs which point to my rescue; a n.o.ble lady and a beggar stood together as your sponsors, and your christening gift was the egg of Good Fortune. I am only permitted to resume my human form once in twenty-five years on Midsummer Eve, and to wander about the earth for an hour, and if I should meet with a youth pure in heart, and with your peculiarities, who would listen to my request, I might be released from my long imprisonment. Save me, O save me from this endless imprisonment! I beseech you in the name of all the angels."

Having thus spoken, she fell at Partel's feet, embraced his knees, and wept bitterly.

Partel's heart was melted by her tears and supplications, and he begged the maiden to stand up, and to tell him what he could do to rescue her.

"If it was possible for me to save you," said he, "I would go through fire and water. I am filled with an unknown longing which allows me no peace; but what I long for, I cannot tell."

The maiden answered, "Come here again to-morrow evening about sunset, and if I meet you in my snake-form, and wind myself round your body like a girdle, and kiss you three times, do not start or shrink back, or I shall again be overwhelmed by the waters of enchantment, and who knows for how many centuries?"

As she spoke, the maiden vanished from the youth's sight, and he again heard the sighing in the leaves of the lime-tree: