Autumn raised his head and looked straight into Winter’s great, cold eyes.
“Have you forgotten the bargain?” asked Winter.
“No,” replied Autumn. “I have not forgotten it. But, if they must die, at least give them leave to dance.”
“Have a care!” shouted Winter.
The whole night through, it rumbled and tumbled in the mountains. It turned so bitterly cold that the starling thought seriously of packing up; and even the red creeper turned pale. When the sun rose, the cherry-blossoms and strawberry-blossoms hung dead upon their stalks.
The distant peaks glittered with new snow.
And the Prince of Autumn laughed no more. He looked out earnestly over the land and the wrinkles in his forehead grew deeper:
“It must be so then!” he said.
Then he blew his horn:
Autumn’s horn blew a lusty chime;