When he heard the sweet tones of the nightingale the dragon raised its head and looked around, but, seeing only a bird perched over his head, he had no fear. Softly, sweetly, the nightingale trilled and sang its soothing song until at last the dragon began to nod its head, and after a while it dropped to the ground, fast asleep.
The poor nightingale was so worn out with singing so long that it hardly had strength to fly down to where Stephen was sleeping.
Very carefully it did so with only a soft waving of its wings, and then its bill plucked from the ring on Stephen’s hand the red stone, and off it flew with the stone held tightly in its bill.
Only once did it stop, and that was to sip a drop of dew from a rose-bush where it alighted to rest, and then on it went to the palace where Nardo was sleeping and flew through the window of his bedroom.
Nardo’s hand was open on the pillow beside his face, and into his hand the nightingale placed the red stone and flew away to the Princess.
“Your lover will be here with the sun,” she said, “and as it is not far from that time I must fly to my Queen.
“Farewell, my kind Princess. May you be happy with your Prince, and if you are as good and kind as a Queen as you were when a Princess I shall never regret my night’s work.”
The Princess thanked her again and again, but the fairy was away before she had finished, and just then the sun peeped through the trees and at the same time the sound of horses’ hoofs was heard coming along the road.
The Princess’s cheeks grew red, for she knew it was her lover, and when she reached the palace door there he was just riding up.
When the spell was broken for Nardo it released poor Stephen from the power of the witch; the sea rolled in and the wind shrieked among the trees and the next thing Stephen knew he was running through the forest toward his home.