She heard the deep breathing of the men around her, and knew that they were asleep. And as she lay there, quite still, looking up through the branches at the twinkling stars, listening to the rustling of the leaves as the night wind blew over them, she heard, so it seemed to her, a whispering or murmuring voice, which appeared to come from a tall, flowering shrub growing near, whose blossoms were white in the moonlight.
A soft, silvery voice it was, but Rosebud, listening carefully, could distinguish words like these:—
“Be of good cheer,
O maiden dear;
No longer fear,
For help is near.”
Rosebud opened wide her eyes to make sure it was not a dream. But no, there were the stars, the rustling leaves, and the sleeping men around her.
Presently a whiskered face was brought close to her own, and a voice whispered, “Do not speak; I am your true friend.” She then felt herself lifted up and borne swiftly through the bushes.
After some time, she was laid gently upon the ground and felt herself sinking, sinking, very slowly, into a deep hole in the earth. But the bottom was covered thick with leaves and soft grass; Rosebud, therefore, was not at all hurt, but very much frightened; for why should a true friend bury her up?