“Yea, verily, wondrous fair! So bewitching art thou, with thy golden hair and thy golden eyes, that I love thee from this hour!”
“And I love thee, too,” replied the guileless maiden, unaware of the fact that it is not customary among men to say what one thinks. “But do not say my hair is golden, for gold is so ugly!”
“Ugly!” The King’s son laughed. “I have never heard that of it before. Hast thou, then, seen so much gold that it has grown to seem ugly to thee?”
“Ah, yes! I see nought save gold—instead of green trees, gold—instead of flowers, gold—instead of men, gold—heaps of it, like that.” And she spread out her arms and turned herself about. “Oh, how much rather would I sit upon yon beautiful creature! I have never seen a horse before—may I touch it?”
“Yes, indeed, and stroke it too, and climb up beside me. Thou shalt ride as long as thou hast a mind to.”
Then he bade her rest her foot on his and give him both her hands, and so he drew her up before him on the saddle, clasped his arm about her, and gave his horse the spur. He fancied she would be frightened, but no such thought occurred to the gentle, innocent creature, for she knew nought of danger. As soon as the ground was soft beneath them he loosened the reins, and away they sped, through the woodland shade, and over the flowery meadows.
Alba shouted and clapped her hands for glee, crying: “Faster, faster yet!” So they drew near to the city, through which they had to ride before reaching the hill upon which the royal castle stood. Then suddenly fear came upon the maiden.
“Are all these human beings?” she asked, as they rode at a foot’s-pace through the streets. “And does not the wind blow down these tiny houses?”
“Nay,” laughed Porfirie. “The wind does not blow here as hard as it does up yonder.”
“See, my people,” he cried to the folk as he passed, “here I bring you your Queen. She is a fairy-blossom, and I plucked her from yonder cliff!”