“All this will I give you, Princess Cantilla, if you will become my wife,” he said, taking a step closer to Cantilla.
“Oh no, no! I cannot do that,” said Cantilla, holding up both hands as if to ward off even the thought of such a thing.
“Wait,” said the dwarf. “Do not be so hasty, my Princess. I will come again for your reply to-night at the fountain in the garden where the honeysuckle grows.”
Before Cantilla could reply to this he swung his beard over his head and disappeared in a cloud of what looked like steam or smoke.
Cantilla looked about her and pinched herself to make sure she had not dreamed all she had just seen, and by and by she believed it was a dream—that she must have fallen asleep in her chair by the fire.
That night while she was sleeping she was awakened by feeling some one touch her on the face.
Cantilla had been awakened so many times by the little mice that overran the old castle that she only brushed her face with her hand without opening her eyes and went to sleep again.
“Cantilla, open your eyes! Open your eyes!” she heard some one whisper close to her ear, and again she felt the touch of something on her face.
Cantilla opened her eyes and sat up in bed. The room was quite bright, and a beautiful lamp with a pink silk shade gave everything in the room a rose tint.
Cantilla was sure she was dreaming, for it was not her old shabby room at all she was looking at.