Florio was not quite sure that he fully understood all that was said to him, but he was delighted at the idea of leaving Fuss, and said so.

Florella smiled upon him, and continued, "It may not be so easy as you imagine; those who serve me have to stand a test of faithfulness, energy, and courage. Our life seems one of careless mirth, but it is not so. We, of course, are happy, and enjoy ourselves; but we have many duties, and are not altogether free, as would be supposed. I am at the head of this little band. We are Flower Fairies, cousins to the Wind Fairies and Herb Elves. I am familiar with every wild-flower that grows, and I am now desirous of getting for our forests some seeds of the Swiss Edelweiss. If you can procure them for me I will reward you handsomely."

Poor Florio heard this speech with consternation. He had never in all his life known one flower from another. Where, when, how could he go?

And if he went, how should he escape Fuss? These thoughts made the poor child falter and grow pale. It would have been so much easier to say he could not do it, and have done with the matter; but the remembrance of his horrible slavery, and the thought that Florella believed in his ability to aid her, stimulated his courage, and he said,

"I know nothing of flowers, dear lady; I am a very ignorant fellow; but if you will direct me, and tell me where to go, I am ready to try."

"Spoken well, my lad," said the fairy. "I do not expect impossibilities.

_We_ are the only ones who can do what seems impossible to man. The Edelweiss is a mountain flower, growing on the highest Alps, and many a man has lost his life striving to pluck it for one he loved. It is much esteemed for its rarity, and because of the often great difficulty of getting it. See, here is a dried blossom;" and she put in his hand a small white flower like an immortelle, though Florio thought that it looked as if it were made of flannel, it was so soft and woolly.

"This you must keep; see, I will put it in this case of birch-bark, and you had better place it in your bosom. Now I must tell you about the journey. To leave Fussioldfuri immediately might make the task more difficult. She is about starting for the mountains, and if you keep with her a while longer you will be able to find the place you need much sooner than if you went alone. But when you reach Geneva you are to leave her. Can you remember that?"

"Oh yes, the rhyme will help me:

"'When I get to Geneva, Then I must leave her.'"

"Exactly; and then you are to seek the Edelweiss, and when you have gathered the seeds you are to meet me here in this forest, whether it be winter or whether it be summer. Adieu."

The fairy vanished, and with her went her band--nodding, waving, and kissing their finger-tips.

Oh, how dreary the woods seemed without the little troop! The wind sighed in the pines, and the moonlight cast fearful shadows from the gnarled and knotty boughs.

Florio rose with a sigh and stretched his limbs, wondering if it was worth while to try and do the fairy's bidding when he had to go back to hear the dreaded voice of old Fuss. Then he made sure of the birch-bark case, and again with the aid of the fire-flies found the road. Fuss was sound asleep still when he laid himself down on his bundle of straw in the farthest corner of the cavern. One thing he did not notice, and that was the young fox whose bushy tail he had touched going into the woods.

It had followed him home, and crept in under the straw beside him.

CHAPTER II

High up in the Swiss mountains a storm was brewing. On their cloud-capped summits nothing could be seen but snow--dazzling, blinding white snow, and wreaths of vapor which congealed as it fell. All day the people of the hamlets had been preparing for the visitor, knowing full well that they should be housed for weeks after its descent, and as Christmas was approaching, it was needful that much should be done.

As the day grew darker, each hurried to complete his or her work, and none essayed more eagerly to do this than young Franz, the goatherd; but try as he would, the heedless, wanton little flock were constantly escaping from him, and if it had not been for Jan, the great mastiff of the famous St. Bernard breed, he would have been still more troubled. As it was, he found one goat missing when he went to house them, and again he had to take his alpenstock and try what he could do.

By this time the storm was indeed upon them, and between the wind and the snow, the icy atmosphere and the darkness, Franz had about concluded to let the goat go, when Jan began to sniff about and bark, and show by signs as easily read as print that he was seeking something. Franz thought it must be on account of the goat, but just then old Nan appeared with her customary capriciousness, and made no resistance to the cord with which Franz bound her.

Still Jan kept up his scratching and sniffing and barking, and Franz knew only too well that there was no use in opposing him, although his fingers and toes were half frozen.

As soon as the dog saw that Franz recognized the necessity of following him he quieted down, and with a zealous industry nosed the path from side to side, as if in search of something; nor did he have to go far, for they presently descried what seemed like a big snow-heap on one side of the now undiscoverable path.

Here Jan halted and looked intently; then he began scratching and whining again, and Franz saw a bit of cloth. Soon an arm appeared, and next a leg, and after vigorous work from both Franz and Jan, the whole figure of a child, clasping something in its arms, was uncovered. Dead or alive, Franz knew not which it was; but very well he knew what it was the child carried, for its big bushy red tail showed it to be a fox, and it too was as motionless and lifeless as the child.

The goatherd had braved the dangers of the mountains all his lifetime, and knew how to be cool and decided in the presence of danger. He had his knife and drinking-cup beside him, and his horn slung over his shoulder. In a moment he had made Nan stand still while he milked her, and then he pried open the stiff lips of the lad, and forced the warm liquid within. As he did so, the child revived and swallowed, for he had not been long unconscious. Then putting him on Jan's back, and driving Nan before him, Franz made his way home as best he could.

It was late when tired Franz, whose mother was in the door-way looking anxiously for him, arrived. All the children were within, and the fire was burning brightly. On the table the soup was steaming. An exclamation of surprise arose from all as Jan and his burden marched in.

"Who is it?" "Where did he come from?" "Where did you find him?" "What was he doing all alone in the storm?" burst from all their lips.

"So, so; slowly, please," answered the cool and courageous Franz. Then he told them his adventure.

"A stranger lad, lost on the roadside," murmured the mother, as she took the boy from Jan and carefully undressed him, the children meanwhile attending to the nearly frozen fox.

"Poor child! poor child! he shall be welcome. A sorry Christmas it is for him."

"Not when he fell into your hands, good mother," said Franz, ladling out the soup.

"No indeed--no indeed," said one and all.

But the mother's words seemed to be the truth, for though the child revived, and was able to take nourishment, a fever set in, from which he did not rally. Day by day he lay in the little curtained recess where he could see them all with his great wondering eyes, watching them carve their beautiful toys--for this was their winter work--but saying nothing, for he knew not their language, and only one word had he uttered which they could understand.

This word was simply "Edelweiss." "Edelweiss," he muttered, when the fever was at its height, and "Edelweiss" he softly whispered when dreaming.

The children called him "Little Edelweiss," and fed his fox, which lapped their hands and brought a sweet smile to the face of the little sufferer.

Christmas-eve would be on the morrow, and all were busy dressing the room with boughs of evergreen. The tree stood in the corner, waiting for its glittering fruit. Outside the sheaf of grain had been tied to a pole for the snow-birds. All had some trifling gifts prepared for a joyful keeping of the day, Franz only seemed to be uneasy. He would glance at the pale face of his little foundling, and then he would look out to see if the weather was fine, and at last he reached up for his thickest wrap and staff, and away he went up the mountain-side. Nothing could be seen up that way but the red roof of a convent, and peak after peak of ice piercing the blue sky.

It was late when he returned and put something carefully behind the tree. All were waiting for their supper, for they were anxious to go to bed that the dear Christmas might the sooner come.

His mother scolded a little, but the stranger boy put up his thin hand reprovingly, as if he could not bear to have Franz rebuked, and then they all laughed, for they all loved Franz.

But soon they were sleeping quietly, and the moon shone upon happy faces--only the little guest tossed and murmured "Edelweiss."

The morrow came, and with it many a merry greeting. And now they could hardly wait for the day to pa.s.s. Long before dark the table was set with its sausages and spice-cake, and beside each plate a mysterious packet--for the tree bore only glittering trifles. And when the girls in their pretty scarlet bodices and whitest chemisettes sat down, and the mother reverently asked G.o.d's blessing on their food, all broke into a joyful carol. Then they examined their gifts, and the little stranger was given his share of the good things.

But just then Franz arose and brought from behind the tree a curious looking box. Tearing off the papers a small but hardy plant was revealed, and putting it in the hands of the invalid, Franz pointed to its buds and said one word, "Edelweiss."

A cry of joy burst from the boy's lips, and he clasped his treasure as if it had been indeed a flower from paradise.

"Edelweiss! Edelweiss!" was all he could utter, but the sweet and grateful tone thanked Franz better than a thousand other words could have done.

"Why, Franz," they all asked, "where did you get it at this season? It does not grow in winter."

"No," said Franz, "I know that it does not, but I have often found it in summer, and I just happened to remember plucking some by the roots last spring for Father Gluckner up at the convent--he is always gathering roots and herbs for the sick, and he has a great curiosity to transplant wild-flowers that he may see what they will produce under cultivation.

See; this plant already has flowers--months too soon. He has several others, so he gave me this quite willingly."

While they were talking, the little stranger had drawn a small case of birch-bark from his pocket, and was earnestly comparing the faded and pressed flower it contained with the blooming one beside him. His face glowed with happiness, and from that moment his restoration to health began.

CHAPTER III

Again the summer-time had come, with all its warmth and beauty. The fairies were thronging all the wildwood one lovely summer evening, when a tall, handsome lad, with light, quick tread and merry glancing eyes, entered the woods, followed by a red fox, and boldly shouted, "Florella!

Florella!" making the woods ring with his voice.