“‘I want no golden bed. I had rather sleep on down than gold,’ answered the maid, and she mocked the child, and went on, putting her hands to her ears, to keep out the cries of the little one, that came through the thick trees, with a mighty piteous sound—the hard-hearted creature!”
“How cruel!” said Helen, “I hope she got lost herself.”
“Don’t interrupt, Helen,” said Louis, whose eyes were kindling with excitement. “You may be sure she had some punishment.”
“Yes, that she did,” continued the narrator, “and I tell you it was worse than being lost, bad as that is. By-and-by she came out of the forest, into a smooth road, and a horseman galloped to meet her, that would have scared anybody else in the world but her. Not that he was so ugly, but he was dressed all in black, and he had such a powerful head of black hair, that hung all about him like a cloak, and mixed up with the horse’s flowing mane, and that was black too, and so was his horse, and so were his eyes, but his forehead was as white as snow, and his cheeks were fair and ruddy. He rode right up to the young maiden, and reaching down, swung his arm round her, and put her up before him on the saddle, and away they rode, as swift as a weaver’s shuttle. I don’t believe a horse ever went so fast before. Every little stone his hoofs struck, would blaze up, just for a second, making stars all along the road. As they flew on, his long black hair got twisted all around her, and every time the wind blew, it grew tighter and tighter, till she could scarcely breathe, and she prayed him to stop, and unwind his long black hair, before it reached her throat, for as sure as she was alive then, it would strangle her.
“‘You have hands as well as I,’ said he, with a mocking laugh, ‘unwind it yourself, fair maiden.’
“Then she remembered what she had said to the poor little lost child, and she cried out as the child did, when she left it alone in the forest. All the time the long locks of hair seemed taking root in her heart, and drawing it every step they went.
“‘Now,’ said her companion, reining up his black horse, ‘I’ll release you.’
“And unsheathing a sharp dagger, he cut the hair through and through, so that part of it fell on the ground in a black shower. Then giving her a swing, he let her fall by the way-side, and rode on hurraing by the light of the moon.”
Miss Thusa paused to take breath, and wiped her spectacles, as if she had been reading with them all the time she had been talking.
“Is that all?” asked Helen.