wood every night as the moon waned, so that sometimes they had great

trouble in finding her; but as she was always very angry if she

discovered they were watching her, they scarcely dared to do so. At

length one night they thought they had lost her altogether. It was

morning before they found her. Feeble as she was, she had wandered into

a thicket a long way from the glade, and there she lay--fast asleep, of

course.

Although the fame of her beauty and sweetness had gone abroad, yet as

everybody knew she was under a bad spell, no king in the neighbourhood

had any desire to have her for a daughter-in-law. There were serious

objections to such a relation.

About this time in a neighbouring kingdom, in consequence of the

wickedness of the nobles, an insurrection took place upon the death of

the old king, the greater part of the nobility was massacred, and

the young prince was compelled to flee for his life, disguised like a

peasant. For some time, until he got out of the country, he suffered

much from hunger and fatigue; but when he got into that ruled by the

princess's father, and had no longer any fear of being recognised, he

fared better, for the people were kind. He did not abandon his disguise,

however. One tolerable reason was that he had no other clothes to put

on, and another that he had very little money, and did not know where to

get any more. There was no good in telling everybody he met that he

was a prince, for he felt that a prince ought to be able to get on like

other people, else his rank only made a fool of him. He had read of

princes setting out upon adventure; and here he was out in similar case,

only without having had a choice in the matter. He would go on, and see

what would come of it.

For a day or two he had been walking through the palace-wood, and had

had 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 traveller, and gave him bread

and milk, which he thought the most delicious food he had ever tasted,

wondering that 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

neighbourhood, to return and occupy the same quarters.

“Thank you 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 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 be 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 quite. 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 some time, 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 knew not whither.

After walking a considerable distance, he thought he was coming to the

outside 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 looked 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 some

strange being of the wood--a nymph whom the moonlight and the warm

dusky air had enticed from 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, and 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 towards the

moon. She passed close to where he stood, dancing on by the edge of the

trees and away in a great circle towards 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 quite, 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 if 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

vanish from his sight. As to venturing near her, that never came into

his head.

She had lain for a long hour or longer, when the prince began again to

doubt concerning her. 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 kingdom and everything for the hope of being

near her. He would build him 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 thus dreamed she sprang to her feet, turned her

face full to the moon, and began singing as she would draw her down from

the sky by the power of her entrancing voice. She looked more beautiful

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.

He could not leave the place. What if she should come the next night! He

would gladly endure a day's hunger to see her yet again: he would buckle

his belt quite tight. He walked round the glade to see if he could

discover any prints of her feet. But the grass was so short, and her

steps had been so light, that she had not left a single trace behind

her. He walked half-way round the wood without seeing anything to