"It has but to inflict one scratch," said the dwarf, "and the result is death."
Charming, who had been feeling the blade, took his thumb away hastily.
"Then I shall want a cloak of darkness," he said.
"Behold, here it is. Beneath this cloak the wearer is invisible to the eyes of his enemies."
"One thing more," said Charming. "A pair of seven-league boots….
Thank you. That is all to-day."
Directly the dwarf was gone, Charming kicked off his shoes and stepped into the magic boots; then he seized the sword and the cloak and darted off on his lady's behest. He had barely gone a hundred paces before a sudden idea came to him, and he pulled himself up short.
"Let me see," he reflected; "the castle was ten miles away. These are seven-league boots—so that I have come about two thousand miles. I shall have to go back." He took some hasty steps back, and found himself in the wood from which he had started.
"Well?" said Princess Beauty, "have you killed him?"
"No, n-no," stammered Charming, "not exactly killed him. I was just—just practising something. The fact is," he added confidentially, "I've got a pair of new boots on, and—" He saw the look of cold surprise in her face and went on quickly, "I swear, Princess, that I will not return to you again without his head."
He took a quick step in the direction of the castle and found himself soaring over it; turned eleven miles off and stepped back a pace; overshot it again, and arrived at the very feet of the Princess.