She took from the ground her crooked staff.

"Hush," said she; "if the sky were to fall on your head, you are not to speak; for now begins the charm."

Then she drew a circle three times on the ground, with her staff, and said in low tones,--

"Hither, ye cousins, that come at my call: The princess is young and fair; Mix me a charm that shall bring her to woe Spin me your vilest snare."

A mist arose, in which Zora could see dim figures, one after another.

Zora held her breath. Gerula muttered again in low tones,--

"Hilda is gentle, and dreams of no guile; The little gnomes sit and weep; 'Make her,--if _must_ be,--a snowy wee lamb, In the fold with her father's sheep.'"

Zora clapped her hands in delight. But just then, a faint sound was heard, as of some one talking between the teeth. Then Zora spoke, and the charm was broken. She did not intend to speak; but asked, "What noise was that?" before she thought.

"You have broken the charm," said the fairy. "The soft-hearted gnomes are unwilling to punish Hilda; but I hoped, by my craft, I could force them to keep her a lamb forever; or, at most, to let her grow to a sheep, and die by the knife.

"I will now weave a new charm; but I fear me they will repent; and Hilda will not be got out of the way, after all. Not a word more, I warn you."

So saying, the goblin made another circle three times, on the ground, and again muttered,--

"How long is fair Hilda a snowy wee lamb?

The little gnomes cry, 'We fear Till comes a brave lion so tender and true, She lives by his side a year.'"

Zora clapped her hands again. "That is well," said she, "for never was a lion seen who could let a little helpless lamb pa.s.s his way without tearing it in pieces."

"True," said the gnome, well pleased, "it has worked well. Hilda will never trouble you again: so creep home softly, and go to your rest: dream of bats and creeping snakes; and to-morrow, at sunrise, ask your cousin to walk with you in the park. Now adieu!"

"Adieu, sweetest and best of fairies!" said Zora, drawing her silken mantle closely about her face. As she left the hideous cave, snakes hissed after her, and a bat flew in her face; but she had sold herself to evil, and walked on without fear of the creatures she so strongly resembled.

Next morning, at the first peep of the sun, she cried, "Awake, dearest Hilda, joy of my life, and walk with me in the park. I have lost my diamond necklace; and last night I dreamed it was lying in the gra.s.s."

So Princess Hildegarde opened her eyes, and hastened to follow her cousin; for her heart was quickly moved to any act of kindness.

"What a fine flock of sheep!" cried Hilda, as they were walking in the park. "Such innocent"----

She would have said more, but the words on her tongue were suddenly changed to tender bleatings; and even as Zora stood looking at her, she crouched down on all fours, dwindled in size, was enveloped in white fleece, and became a dumb lamb.

Overwhelmed with horror and surprise, she raised her pleading, tearful eyes to the face of her cousin. But Zora gave a mocking laugh, and said, pointing her finger at her,--

"Who now is the heir of the throne? Will they set the royal crown on a sheep's head, think you? Bravo, sweet creature! You may stand now between me and Prince Reginald as much as you please. It's all my work. I tell you once for all, I hate you, Hildegarde."

Was this Zora's return for her cousin's love? The princess would fain have expressed her grief and amazement.

"Pray don't try to talk, my bonny wee thing! It is not one of your gifts, at present. Your voice has ceased to be musical. I can sing now as well as you. Go to nibbling gra.s.s, deary, and a long life to you!"

Then the treacherous Zora turned on her heel, and left her poor cousin to her mute despair.

A search was made far and wide for the missing princess. Forests were hunted, rivers were dragged; but without avail. Deep gloom fell on the people, and the queen nearly died of sorrow. They all believed Hilda dead, all but Zora, who knew too well her cruel fate.

Then Zora was treated like the king's daughter. Wherever she went, there were servants to follow her; yet none loved her, and behind her back they made wry faces, and said she looked like one who was tormented by evil fairies.

But, alas for Zora, nothing more was seen of Prince Reginald. She watched the windows day after day, hoping to see him ride by on his coal-black steed; but he never came. Then she grew crosser than ever, and the frown on her brow ploughed deeper still. She dreamed every night of horrible goblins and slender green snakes.

All the while, poor Hildegarde roamed about the park. The other lambs were content to nip the sweet gra.s.s, and frisk in the sun; but the princess remembered something better, for her soul did not sleep.

The king himself, in his walks, was struck with the beauty of the lamb; its fleece was far softer, finer, and whiter than was common.

He said to his chief shepherd, "Watch well yonder snow-white lamb, and give it particular care."

For there was something in its soft dark eyes, as they were raised to his face, which stirred the king's heart, though he knew not why.

One day the city was thrown into a great tumult. A lion had been seen in the thicket which bordered the park. The huntsmen, hearing of it, stole out privately to waylay him in a snare. He was caught alive by the king's favorite huntsman. It was agreed that such a fine lion had never been seen before; and the king ordered a strong iron cage for the beast, and made his favorite huntsman his keeper.

Now the cage was in the midst of the park; and such was the terror of the sheep and deer, that none of them went near it.

"I will go," thought poor Hildegarde; "let the lion tear me in pieces. Sooner would I perish, than live on, a poor wee lamb all my days."

So she went up to the cage, though with a faint heart; but the lion put his paw out of the bars, and stroked her face, as if he would bid her welcome. The keeper reported the fact with great surprise.

It may be that the beautiful brown eyes of the lamb tamed the fierce spirit of the lion; for they were human eyes, full of Hildegarde's own soul. Be that as it may, the lamb went every day to the cage, till the lion learned to watch for her, and gave a low growl of joy when he saw her coming. At last the keeper ventured to drop her carefully into the cage. The lion was beside himself with joy; and, after that, the lamb was placed in the cage every morning, and only taken out at night.

Then the king invited all the n.o.blemen into his park, to see the strange sight of a lion and a lamb living together in peace. And all the while Hildegarde loved her s.h.a.ggy companion, and asked herself every day how it could be that a lion should have such speaking eyes and such a tender heart. But she almost believed that he was a human being, shut up, like herself, in a cruel disguise.

At last, when a whole year had gone by, the time came for Hilda to be disenchanted; for the good little gnomes had declared that if she could live for a twelvemonth in peace with a lion, the charm would then be at an end.

Hilda did not know this; but awoke at sunrise, and, going to drink, saw the image of her old self in the fountain; and faint voices repeated in chorus these lines:--

"Thrice welcome, sweet Hilda! the little gnomes say At sunrise their charms shall end; So go to the lion, and open the cage; The prince is your own true friend."

This was so sudden and unexpected that the happy Hilda could hardly believe her senses. She gazed at her jewelled fingers; she touched her velvet robe. "It is Hildegarde," said she dreamily; "where has she stayed so long?"

She went to the cage; and, finding the key hanging on the outside, would fain have freed the poor lion, but thought of the terror it would cause the sheep and deer, and dared not do it.

She put her soft white arms within the bars, saying,--

"You have been a true friend to the little white lamb. She has found her tongue again, and can say so. Kind old lion, gentle prisoner, Hildegarde will not forget you."

The n.o.ble beast looked at the disenchanted princess, and the next instant was changed to his true form; and, in place of a tawny lion, it was the brave Prince Reginald. Hilda blushed with joyful surprise, and would have taken down the key to unlock the cage, but the prince said,--

"Loveliest Hildegarde, will you be my bride? Speak before you unlock the cage; for, if you say nay, Reginald must again become a dumb beast, and, as he has been for a year, so will he be for the rest of his days."

Hildegarde cast down her eyes, and answered, "If so be the lion and the lamb could live side by side for a year, may not Reginald and Hilda dwell together in peace?"

"Then," said the joyful Prince Reginald, "I pray thee unlock the cage."

Now, as they walked together in the park, the prince told Hildegarde that he had loved her for a twelvemonth and a day.

He described Zora's visit to the cruel goblin. He said that he himself had overheard the two talking together, had ground his teeth, and sighed. Then the gnomes, seeing his grief, had come asking him if he would be changed for a year, and maybe for life, into a lion; and for Hildegarde's sake he had gladly consented.