"'Yon long-haired page in crimson clad is more to my liking,' said Hertha, timidly. 'Methinks he has a noble mien, as of one brought up in palaces. I wonder why my father has never said aught to me of Clotho's gift. I, too, should be at my weaving, for I am as old as thou, Huberta.'
"'And I also,' added Hildegarde.
"'Ask him,' quoth Huberta. 'Mayhap he hath forgot.'
"So when Hertha reached home, she went to her father Herthold, and said, timidly, with downcast eyes and blushes, 'Father—where is my loom, like Huberta's? I, too, would be weaving as it is written in the stars.'
"But Herthold glowered upon her grimly. 'Who told thee of aught that is written in the stars?' he demanded, so sternly that her heart quaked within her. 'Hear me! Never again must thou listen to such idle tales. When thou art a woman grown, thou mayst come to me, and I may talk to thee then of webs and weaving, but what hast thou to do with such things now? Thou! a silly child! Bah! I am ashamed that ever a daughter of mine should think such foolishness!'
"Hertha, shamed and abashed, stole away to weep, that she had incurred her father's scorn. But next day, when they played in the garden, Huberta said, 'Thy father is an old tyrant to forbid thee the use of Clotho's gift. He cannot love thee as mine does me, or he would not deny thee such a pleasure. Come! I will help thee to find it.'
"So hand in hand they stole into an inner room by a door that Herthold thought securely bolted, and there stood a loom like Huberta's, and over it a mirror in which the same shadows of the world were repeated in passing. And as Hertha picked up the shuttle to send the thread of a rosy day-dream through the warp of gold, the long-haired page in crimson clad passed down the street outside, and she saw his image in the mirror.
"'How like a prince he bears himself!' she murmured. 'My father is indeed a tyrant to deny me the pleasure of looking out upon the world and weaving sweet fancies about it. Henceforth I shall not obey him, but shall daily steal away in here, to weave in secret what he will not allow me to do openly.'
"At the same time, Hildegarde stood before her father, saying, timidly, 'Is it true, my father, what Huberta says is written in the stars? To-day when I saw Huberta's loom I pushed back the bolt which has always barred the door leading into an inner room from mine, and there I found the loom of gold and a wonderful mirror. I fain would use them as Huberta does, but I have come to ask thee first, if all be well.'
"A very tender smile lighted the face of old Hildgardmar. Taking the hand of the little Hildegarde in his, he led the way into the inner room. 'I have often looked forward to this day, my little one,' he exclaimed, 'although I did not think thou wouldst come quite so soon with thy questions. It is indeed true, what Huberta hast told thee is written in the stars. On the right weaving of this web depends the happiness of all thy future, and not only thine but of those who may come after thee.