Dame Roxana gazed at the young girl in great anxiety. She would fain have sent her away again as quickly as possible; but the vision was so entrancing a one that she could not restrain a kindly smile, and stretched out her hand, which the maiden respectfully kissed. “I think,” said Dame Roxana, “that the worst punishment would be to make this merry child spend a few hours in spinning with an old woman like me!”
“Nay, nay,” the girl replied; “I can spin as lightly as any fairy. The spear has not made my hand heavy. And as for old folks—why, I spend all my time alone with grandfather, who sits in his chair all day, and falls asleep whenever I would tell him aught.”
She was about to lay aside her mantle as she spoke, but Andrei stepped forward and took it from her, while his mother herself lifted the fur cap from her brow and stroked back the damp curly hair. With abundant locks falling about her like a lion’s mane, she seemed fairer than ever, and mother and sons gazed at her in delight.
“What is thy name, dear child?” asked Dame Roxana.
“Urlanda. Is it not an ugly name? They would have called me Rolanda, but it turned into Urlanda, because I was always so wild and untutored. My grandfather dwells on the other side of the mountain. Oh! I have come far to-day.”
“Then thou wilt be all the gladder of the meal that awaits us.”
They led her into the dining-hall, sumptuously decked with Eastern carpets and hangings and massive silver-ware. Here the talk flowed merrily on. Wondrous tales were told of the chase and of adventures with savage bears; but Rolanda would never suffer herself to be outdone, and would cap each tale with one more amazing yet, told in tones as earnest as though she were swearing an oath upon it.
The merriment was heightened by her constant mistaking of one brother for the other, and when Andrei gave himself out as having saved her life, Mirea would eagerly affirm that it was he who had warded off the bear’s last embrace.
“It’s a good thing,” she would cry, “that I have to thank you both for my life, for else, indeed, I should never be able to recognise my preserver.”