Chương Chương 17 · THE NIGHTINGALE

. THE NIGHTINGALE

In China, as I daresay you know, the Emperor is a Chinaman, and all his

courtiers are also Chinamen. The story I am going to tell you happened

many years ago, but it is worth while for you to listen to it, before it

is forgotten.

The Emperor’s Palace was the most splendid in the world, all made of

priceless porcelain, but so brittle and delicate that you had to take

great care how you touched it. In the garden were the most beautiful

flowers, and on the loveliest of them were tied silver bells which

tinkled, so that if you passed you could not help looking at the

flowers. Everything in the Emperor’s garden was admirably arranged with

a view to effect; and the garden was so large that even the gardener

himself did not know where it ended. If you ever got beyond it, you came

to a stately forest with great trees and deep lakes in it. The forest

sloped down to the sea, which was a clear blue. Large ships could

sail under the boughs of the trees, and in these trees there lived a

Nightingale. She sang so beautifully that even the poor fisherman who

had so much to do stood and listened when he came at night to cast his

nets. ‘How beautiful it is!’ he said; but he had to attend to his work,

and forgot about the bird. But when she sang the next night and the

fisherman came there again, he said the same thing, ‘How beautiful it

is!’

From all the countries round came travellers to the Emperor’s town, who

were astonished at the Palace and the garden. But when they heard the

Nightingale they all said, ‘This is the finest thing after all!’

The travellers told all about it when they went home, and learned

scholars wrote many books upon the town, the Palace, and the garden. But

they did not forget the Nightingale; she was praised the most, and all

the poets composed splendid verses on the Nightingale in the forest by

the deep sea.

The books were circulated throughout the world, and some of them reached

the Emperor. He sat in his golden chair, and read and read. He nodded

his head every moment, for he liked reading the brilliant accounts of

the town, the Palace, and the garden. ‘But the Nightingale is better

than all,’ he saw written.

‘What is that?’ said the Emperor. ‘I don’t know anything about the

Nightingale! Is there such a bird in my empire, and so near as in my

garden? I have never heard it! Fancy reading for the first time about it

in a book!’

And he called his First Lord to him. He was so proud that if anyone of

lower rank than his own ventured to speak to him or ask him anything, he

would say nothing but ‘P!’ and that does not mean anything.

‘Here is a most remarkable bird which is called a Nightingale!’ said the

Emperor. ‘They say it is the most glorious thing in my kingdom. Why has

no one ever said anything to me about it?’

‘I have never before heard it mentioned!’ said the First Lord. ‘I will

look for it and find it!’

But where was it to be found? The First Lord ran up and down stairs,

through the halls and corridors; but none of those he met had ever heard

of the Nightingale. And the First Lord ran again to the Emperor, and

told him that it must be an invention on the part of those who had

written the books.

‘Your Imperial Majesty cannot really believe all that is written! There

are some inventions called the Black Art!’

‘But the book in which I read this,’ said the Emperor, ‘is sent me by

His Great Majesty the Emperor of Japan; so it cannot be untrue, and I

will hear the Nightingale! She must be here this evening! She has my

gracious permission to appear, and if she does not, the whole Court

shall be trampled under foot after supper!’

‘Tsing pe!’ said the First Lord; and he ran up and down stairs, through

the halls and corridors, and half the Court ran with him, for they

did not want to be trampled under foot. Everyone was asking after the

wonderful Nightingale which all the world knew of, except those at

Court.

At last they met a poor little girl in the kitchen, who said, ‘Oh! I

know the Nightingale well. How she sings! I have permission to carry the

scraps over from the Court meals to my poor sick mother, and when I am

going home at night, tired and weary, and rest for a little in the wood,

then I hear the Nightingale singing! It brings tears to my eyes, and I

feel as if my mother were kissing me!’

‘Little kitchenmaid!’ said the First Lord, ‘I will give you a place in

the kitchen, and you shall have leave to see the Emperor at dinner, if

you can lead us to the Nightingale, for she is invited to come to Court

this evening.’

And so they all went into the wood where the Nightingale was wont to

sing, and half the Court went too.

When they were on the way there they heard a cow mooing.

‘Oh!’ said the Courtiers, ‘now we have found her! What a wonderful power

for such a small beast to have! I am sure we have heard her before!’

‘No; that is a cow mooing!’ said the little kitchenmaid. ‘We are still a

long way off!’

Then the frogs began to croak in the marsh. ‘Splendid!’ said the Chinese

chaplain. ‘Now we hear her; it sounds like a little church-bell!’

‘No, no; those are frogs!’ said the little kitchenmaid. ‘But I think we

shall soon hear her now!’

Then the Nightingale began to sing.

‘There she is!’ cried the little girl. ‘Listen! She is sitting there!’

And she pointed to a little dark-grey bird up in the branches.

‘Is it possible!’ said the First Lord. ‘I should never have thought it!

How ordinary she looks! She must surely have lost her feathers because

she sees so many distinguished men round her!’

‘Little Nightingale,’ called out the little kitchenmaid, ‘our Gracious

Emperor wants you to sing before him!’

‘With the greatest of pleasure!’ said the Nightingale; and she sang so

gloriously that it was a pleasure to listen.

‘It sounds like glass bells!’ said the First Lord. ‘And look how her

little throat works! It is wonderful that we have never heard her

before! She will be a great success at Court.’

‘Shall I sing once more for the Emperor?’ asked the Nightingale,

thinking that the Emperor was there.

‘My esteemed little Nightingale,’ said the First Lord, ‘I have the

great pleasure to invite you to Court this evening, where His Gracious

Imperial Highness will be enchanted with your charming song!’

‘It sounds best in the green wood,’ said the Nightingale; but still, she

came gladly when she heard that the Emperor wished it.

At the Palace everything was splendidly prepared. The porcelain walls

and floors glittered in the light of many thousand gold lamps; the most

gorgeous flowers which tinkled out well were placed in the corridors.

There was such a hurrying and draught that all the bells jingled so much

that one could not hear oneself speak. In the centre of the great hall

where the Emperor sat was a golden perch, on which the Nightingale sat.

The whole Court was there, and the little kitchenmaid was allowed to

stand behind the door, now that she was a Court-cook. Everyone was

dressed in his best, and everyone was looking towards the little grey

bird to whom the Emperor nodded.

The Nightingale sang so gloriously that the tears came into the

Emperor’s eyes and ran down his cheeks. Then the Nightingale sang even

more beautifully; it went straight to all hearts. The Emperor was so

delighted that he said she should wear his gold slipper round her neck.

But the Nightingale thanked him, and said she had had enough reward

already. ‘I have seen tears in the Emperor’s eyes--that is a great

reward. An Emperor’s tears have such power!’ Then she sang again with

her gloriously sweet voice.

‘That is the most charming coquetry I have ever seen!’ said all the

ladies round. And they all took to holding water in their mouths that

they might gurgle whenever anyone spoke to them. Then they thought

themselves nightingales. Yes, the lackeys and chambermaids announced

that they were pleased; which means a great deal, for they are the most

difficult people of all to satisfy. In short, the Nightingale was a real

success.

She had to stay at Court now; she had her own cage, and permission to

walk out twice in the day and once at night.

She was given twelve servants, who each held a silken string which was

fastened round her leg. There was little pleasure in flying about like

this.

The whole town was talking about the wonderful bird, and when two people

met each other one would say ‘Nightin,’ and the other ‘Gale,’ and then

they would both sigh and understand one another.

Yes, and eleven grocer’s children were called after her, but not one of

them could sing a note.

One day the Emperor received a large parcel on which was written ‘The

Nightingale.’

‘Here is another new book about our famous bird!’ said the Emperor.

But it was not a book, but a little mechanical toy, which lay in a

box--an artificial nightingale which was like the real one, only that it

was set all over with diamonds, rubies, and sapphires. When it was wound

up, it could sing the piece the real bird sang, and moved its tail

up and down, and glittered with silver and gold. Round its neck was a

little collar on which was written, ‘The Nightingale of the Emperor of

Japan is nothing compared to that of the Emperor of China.’

‘This is magnificent!’ they all said, and the man who had brought

the clockwork bird received on the spot the title of ‘Bringer of the

Imperial First Nightingale.’

‘Now they must sing together; what a duet we shall have!’

And so they sang together, but their voices did not blend, for the real

Nightingale sang in her way and the clockwork bird sang waltzes.

‘It is not its fault!’ said the bandmaster; ‘it keeps very good time and

is quite after my style!’

Then the artificial bird had to sing alone. It gave just as much

pleasure as the real one, and then it was so much prettier to look at;

it sparkled like bracelets and necklaces. Three-and-thirty times it sang

the same piece without being tired. People would like to have heard it

again, but the Emperor thought that the living Nightingale should sing

now--but where was she? No one had noticed that she had flown out of the

open window away to her green woods.

‘What SHALL we do!’ said the Emperor.

And all the Court scolded, and said that the Nightingale was very

ungrateful. ‘But we have still the best bird!’ they said and the

artificial bird had to sing again, and that was the thirty-fourth time

they had heard the same piece. But they did not yet know it by heart;

it was much too difficult. And the bandmaster praised the bird

tremendously; yes, he assured them it was better than a real

nightingale, not only because of its beautiful plumage and diamonds, but

inside as well. ‘For see, my Lords and Ladies and your Imperial Majesty,

with the real Nightingale one can never tell what will come out, but all

is known about the artificial bird! You can explain it, you can open it

and show people where the waltzes lie, how they go, and how one follows

the other!’

‘That’s just what we think!’ said everyone; and the bandmaster received

permission to show the bird to the people the next Sunday. They should

hear it sing, commanded the Emperor. And they heard it, and they were

as pleased as if they had been intoxicated with tea, after the Chinese

fashion, and they all said ‘Oh!’ and held up their forefingers and

nodded time. But the poor fishermen who had heard the real Nightingale

said: ‘This one sings well enough, the tunes glide out; but there is

something wanting--I don’t know what!’

The real Nightingale was banished from the kingdom.

The artificial bird was put on silken cushions by the Emperor’s bed, all

the presents which it received, gold and precious stones, lay round

it, and it was given the title of Imperial Night-singer, First from the

left. For the Emperor counted that side as the more distinguished, being

the side on which the heart is; the Emperor’s heart is also on the left.

And the bandmaster wrote a work of twenty-five volumes about the

artificial bird. It was so learned, long, and so full of the hardest

Chinese words that everyone said they had read it and understood it; for

once they had been very stupid about a book, and had been trampled under

foot in consequence. So a whole year passed. The Emperor, the Court, and

all the Chinese knew every note of the artificial bird’s song by heart.

But they liked it all the better for this; they could even sing with

it, and they did. The street boys sang ‘Tra-la-la-la-la, and the Emperor

sang too sometimes. It was indeed delightful.

But one evening, when the artificial bird was singing its best, and the

Emperor lay in bed listening to it, something in the bird went crack.

Something snapped! Whir-r-r! all the wheels ran down and then the music

ceased. The Emperor sprang up, and had his physician summoned, but

what could HE do! Then the clockmaker came, and, after a great deal of

talking and examining, he put the bird somewhat in order, but he said

that it must be very seldom used as the works were nearly worn out, and

it was impossible to put in new ones. Here was a calamity! Only once a

year was the artificial bird allowed to sing, and even that was almost

too much for it. But then the bandmaster made a little speech full

of hard words, saying that it was just as good as before. And so, of

course, it WAS just as good as before. So five years passed, and then a

great sorrow came to the nation. The Chinese look upon their Emperor as

everything, and now he was ill, and not likely to live it was said.

Already a new Emperor had been chosen, and the people stood outside in

the street and asked the First Lord how the old Emperor was. ‘P!’ said

he, and shook his head.

Cold and pale lay the Emperor in his splendid great bed; the whole

Court believed him dead, and one after the other left him to pay their

respects to the new Emperor. Everywhere in the halls and corridors cloth

was laid down so that no footstep could be heard, and everything was

still--very, very still. And nothing came to break the silence.

The Emperor longed for something to come and relieve the monotony of

this deathlike stillness. If only someone would speak to him! If only

someone would sing to him. Music would carry his thoughts away, and

would break the spell lying on him. The moon was streaming in at the

open window; but that, too, was silent, quite silent.

‘Music! music!’ cried the Emperor. ‘You little bright golden bird, sing!

do sing! I gave you gold and jewels; I have hung my gold slipper round

your neck with my own hand--sing! do sing!’ But the bird was silent.

There was no one to wind it up, and so it could not sing. And all was

silent, so terribly silent!

All at once there came in at the window the most glorious burst of song.

It was the little living Nightingale, who, sitting outside on a bough,

had heard the need of her Emperor and had come to sing to him of comfort

and hope. And as she sang the blood flowed quicker and quicker in the

Emperor’s weak limbs, and life began to return.

‘Thank you, thank you!’ said the Emperor. ‘You divine little bird!

I know you. I chased you from my kingdom, and you have given me life

again! How can I reward you?’

‘You have done that already!’ said the Nightingale. ‘I brought tears

to your eyes the first time I sang. I shall never forget that. They

are jewels that rejoice a singer’s heart. But now sleep and get strong

again; I will sing you a lullaby.’ And the Emperor fell into a deep,

calm sleep as she sang.

The sun was shining through the window when he awoke, strong and well.

None of his servants had come back yet, for they thought he was dead.

But the Nightingale sat and sang to him.

‘You must always stay with me!’ said the Emperor. ‘You shall sing

whenever you like, and I will break the artificial bird into a thousand

pieces.’

‘Don’t do that!’ said the Nightingale. ‘He did his work as long as he

could. Keep him as you have done! I cannot build my nest in the Palace

and live here; but let me come whenever I like. I will sit in the

evening on the bough outside the window, and I will sing you something

that will make you feel happy and grateful. I will sing of joy, and of

sorrow; I will sing of the evil and the good which lies hidden from you.

The little singing-bird flies all around, to the poor fisherman’s hut,

to the farmer’s cottage, to all those who are far away from you and your

Court. I love your heart more than your crown, though that has about it

a brightness as of something holy. Now I will sing to you again; but you

must promise me one thing----’

‘Anything!’ said the Emperor, standing up in his Imperial robes, which

he had himself put on, and fastening on his sword richly embossed with

gold.

‘One thing I beg of you! Don’t tell anyone that you have a little bird

who tells you everything. It will be much better not to!’ Then the

Nightingale flew away.

The servants came in to look at their dead Emperor.

The Emperor said, ‘Good-morning!’

HERMOD AND HADVOR (32)

(32) From the Icelandic.

Once upon a time there were a King and a Queen who had an only daughter,

called Hadvor, who was fair and beautiful, and being an only child, was

heir to the kingdom. The King and Queen had also a foster son, named

Hermod, who was just about the same age as Hadvor, and was good-looking,

as well as clever at most things. Hermod and Hadvor often played

together while they were children, and liked each other so much that

while they were still young they secretly plighted their troth to each

other.

As time went on the Queen fell sick, and suspecting that it was her last

illness, sent for the King to come to her. When he came she told him

that she had no long time to live, and therefore wished to ask one thing

of him, which was, that if he married another wife he should promise to

take no other one than the Queen of Hetland the Good. The King gave the

promise, and thereafter the Queen died.

Time went past, and the King, growing tired of living alone, fitted

out his ship and sailed out to sea. As he sailed there came upon him

so thick a mist that he altogether lost his bearings, but after long

trouble he found land. There he laid his ship to, and went on shore all

alone. After walking for some time he came to a forest, into which he

went a little way and stopped. Then he heard sweet music from a harp,

and went in the direction of the sound until he came to a clearing, and

there he saw three women, one of whom sat on a golden chair, and was

beautifully and grandly dressed; she held a harp in her hands, and

was very sorrowful. The second was also finely dressed, but younger

in appearance, and also sat on a chair, but it was not so grand as the

first one’s. The third stood beside them, and was very pretty to look

at; she had a green cloak over her other clothes, and it was easy to see

that she was maid to the other two.

After the King had looked at them for a little he went forward and

saluted them. The one that sat on the golden chair asked him who he

was and where he was going; and he told her all the story--how he was

a king, and had lost his queen, and was now on his way to Hetland the

Good, to ask the Queen of that country in marriage. She answered that

fortune had contrived this wonderfully, for pirates had plundered

Hetland and killed the King, and she had fled from the land in terror,

and had come hither after great trouble, and she was the very person

he was looking for, and the others were her daughter and maid. The

King immediately asked her hand; she gladly received his proposal and

accepted him at once. Thereafter they all set out, and made their way to

the ship; and after that nothing is told of their voyage until the King

reached his own country. There he made a great feast, and celebrated his

marriage with this woman; and after that things are quiet for a time.

Hermod and Hadvor took but little notice of the Queen and her daughter,

but, on the other hand, Hadvor and the Queen’s maid, whose name was

Olof, were very friendly, and Olof came often to visit Hadvor in her

castle. Before long the King went out to war, and no sooner was he away

than the Queen came to talk with Hermod, and said that she wanted him to

marry her daughter. Hermod told her straight and plain that he would

not do so, at which the Queen grew terribly angry, and said that in that

case neither should he have Hadvor, for she would now lay this spell on

him, that he should go to a desert island and there be a lion by day and

a man by night. He should also think always of Hadvor, which would cause

him all the more sorrow, and from this spell he should never be freed

until Hadvor burned the lion’s skin, and that would not happen very

soon.

As soon as the Queen had finished her speech Hermod replied that he also

laid a spell on her, and that was, that as soon as he was freed from her

enchantments she should become a rat and her daughter a mouse, and fight

with each other in the hall until he killed them with his sword.

After this Hermod disappeared, and no one knew what had become of him;

the Queen caused search to be made for him, but he could nowhere be

found. One time, when Olof was in the castle beside Hadvor, she asked

the Princess if she knew where Hermod had gone to. At this Hadvor became

very sad, and said that she did not.

‘I shall tell you then,’ said Olof, ‘for I know all about it. Hermod has

disappeared through the wicked devices of the Queen, for she is a witch,

and so is her daughter, though they have put on these beautiful forms.

Because Hermod would not fall in with the Queen’s plans, and marry her

daughter, she has laid a spell on him, to go on an island and be a lion

by day and a man by night, and never be freed from this until you burn

the lion’s skin. Besides,’ said Olof, ‘she has looked out a match for

you; she has a brother in the Underworld, a three-headed Giant, whom she

means to turn into a beautiful prince and get him married to you. This

is no new thing for the Queen; she took me away from my parents’ house

and compelled me to serve her; but she has never done me any harm, for

the green cloak I wear protects me against all mischief.

Hadvor now became still sadder than before at the thought of the

marriage destined for her, and entreated Olof to think of some plan to

save her.

‘I think,’ said Olof, ‘that your wooer will come up through the floor of

the castle to you, and so you must be prepared when you hear the noise

of his coming and the floor begins to open, and have at hand blazing

pitch, and pour plenty of it into the opening. That will prove too much

for him.’

About this time the King came home from his expedition, and thought it

a great blow that no one knew what had become of Hermod; but the Queen

consoled him as best she could, and after a time the King thought less

about his disappearance.

Hadvor remained in her castle, and had made preparations to receive her

wooer when he came. One night, not long after, a loud noise and rumbling

was heard under the castle. Hadvor at once guessed what it was, and told

her maids to be ready to help her. The noise and thundering grew louder

and louder, until the floor began to open, whereupon Hadvor made them

take the caldron of pitch and pour plenty of it into the opening. With

that the noises grew fainter and fainter, till at last they ceased

altogether.

Next morning the Queen rose early, and went out to the Palace gate, and

there she found her brother the Giant lying dead. She went up to him and

said, ‘I pronounce this spell, that you become a beautiful prince, and

that Hadvor shall be unable to say anything against the charges that I

shall bring against her.’

The body of the dead Giant now became that of a beautiful prince, and

the Queen went in again.

‘I don’t think,’ said she to the King, ‘that your daughter is as good as

she is said to be. My brother came and asked her hand, and she has had

him put to death. I have just found his dead body lying at the Palace

gate.’

The King went along with the Queen to see the body, and thought it all

very strange; so beautiful a youth, he said, would have been a worthy

match for Hadvor, and he would readily have agreed to their marriage.

The Queen asked leave to decide what Hadvor’s punishment should be,

which the King was very willing to allow, so as to escape from punishing

his own daughter. The Queen’s decision was that the King should make a

big grave-mound for her brother, and put Hadvor into it beside him.

Olof knew all the plans of the Queen, and went to tell the Princess what

had been done, whereupon Hadvor earnestly entreated her to tell her what

to do.

‘First and foremost,’ said Olof, ‘you must get a wide cloak to wear over

your other clothes, when you are put into the mound. The Giant’s ghost

will walk after you are both left together in there, and he will have

two dogs along with him. He will ask you to cut pieces out of his legs

to give to the dogs, but that you must not promise to do unless he tells

you where Hermod has gone to, and tells you how to find him. He will

then let you stand on his shoulders, so as to get out of the mound; but

he means to cheat you all the same, and will catch you by the cloak to

pull you back again; but you must take care to have the cloak loose on

your shoulders, so that he will only get hold of that.’

The mound was all ready now, and the Giant laid in it, and into it

Hadvor also had to go without being allowed to make any defence. After

they were both left there everything happened just as Olof had said. The

prince became a Giant again, and asked Hadvor to cut the pieces out of

his legs for the dogs; but she refused until he told her that Hermod was

in a desert island, which she could not reach unless she took the skin

off the soles of his feet and made shoes out of that; with these shoes

she could travel both on land and sea. This Hadvor now did, and the

Giant then let her get up on his shoulders to get out of the mound. As

she sprang out he caught hold of her cloak; but she had taken care to

let it lie loose on her shoulders, and so escaped.

She now made her way down to the sea, to where she knew there was the

shortest distance over to the island in which Hermod was. This strait

she easily crossed, for the shoes kept her up. On reaching the island

she found a sandy beach all along by the sea, and high cliffs above. Nor

could she see any way to get up these, and so, being both sad at heart

and tired with the long journey, she lay down and fell asleep. As she

slept she dreamed that a tall woman came to her and said, ‘I know that

you are Princess Hadvor, and are searching for Hermod. He is on this

island; but it will be hard for you to get to him if you have no one to

help you, for you cannot climb the cliffs by your own strength. I have

therefore let down a rope, by which you will be able to climb up; and as

the island is so large that you might not find Hermod’s dwelling-place

so easily, I lay down this clew beside you. You need only hold the end

of the thread, and the clew will run on before and show you the way. I

also lay this belt beside you, to put on when you awaken; it will keep

you from growing faint with hunger.’

The woman now disappeared, and Hadvor woke, and saw that all her dream

had been true. The rope hung down from the cliff, and the clew and belt

lay beside her. The belt she put on, the rope enabled her to climb up

the cliff, and the clew led her on till she came to the mouth of a cave,

which was not very big. She went into the cave, and saw there a low

couch, under which she crept and lay down.

When evening came she heard the noise of footsteps outside, and became

aware that the lion had come to the mouth of the cave, and shook itself

there, after which she heard a man coming towards the couch. She was

sure this was Hermod, because she heard him speaking to himself about

his own condition, and calling to mind Hadvor and other things in the

old days. Hadvor made no sign, but waited till he had fallen asleep, and

then crept out and burned the lion’s skin, which he had left outside.

Then she went back into the cave and wakened Hermod, and they had a most

joyful meeting.

In the morning they talked over their plans, and were most at a loss

to know how to get out of the island. Hadvor told Hermod her dream, and

said she suspected there was some one in the island who would be able to

help them. Hermod said he knew of a Witch there, who was very ready to

help anyone, and that the only plan was to go to her. So they went to

the Witch’s cave, and found her there with her fifteen young sons, and

asked her to help them to get to the mainland.

‘There are other things easier than that,’ said she, ‘for the Giant that

was buried will be waiting for you, and will attack you on the way,

as he has turned himself into a big whale. I shall lend you a boat,

however, and if you meet the whale and think your lives are in danger,

then you can name me by name.’

They thanked her greatly for her help and advice, and set out from the

island, but on the way they saw a huge fish coming towards them, with

great splashing and dashing of waves. They were sure of what it was, and

thought they had as good reason as ever they would have to call on

the Witch, and so they did. The next minute they saw coming after them

another huge whale, followed by fifteen smaller ones. All of these swam

past the boat and went on to meet the whale. There was a fierce battle

then, and the sea became so stormy that it was not very easy to keep the

boat from being filled by the waves. After this fight had gone on for

some time, they saw that the sea was dyed with blood; the big whale

and the fifteen smaller ones disappeared, and they got to land safe and

sound.

Now the story goes back to the King’s hall, where strange things had

happened in the meantime. The Queen and her daughter had disappeared,

but a rat and a mouse were always fighting with each other there. Ever

so many people had tried to drive them away, but no one could manage it.

Thus some time went on, while the King was almost beside himself with

sorrow and care for the loss of his Queen, and because these monsters

destroyed all mirth in the hall.

One evening, however, while they all sat dull and down-hearted, in came

Hermod with a sword by his side, and saluted the King, who received

him with the greatest joy, as if he had come back from the dead. Before

Hermod sat down, however, he went to where the rat and the mouse were

fighting, and cut them in two with his sword. All were astonished then

by seeing two witches lying dead on the floor of the hall.

Hermod now told the whole story to the King, who was very glad to be rid

of such vile creatures. Next he asked for the hand of Hadvor, which the

King readily gave him, and being now an old man, gave the kingdom to him

as well; and so Hermod became King.

Olof married a good-looking nobleman, and that is the end of the story.