One night, however, when the moon was full, and the whole of the forest was bathed in the pale, cold light, he woke up, and, missing his wife from his side, knew that she had gone into the forest to indulge in her moon fancies. Berl sprang out of bed, and just caught a glimpse of her shadow disappearing among the trunks of the trees; so he rapidly slipped on his clothes and hurried after her, being determined to find out why she was so fond of these midnight wanderings.
“She’s going to a meeting of the faeries,” thought Berl, as he ran across the lawn. “I hope the little people won’t be angry if they see me; but my wife will protect me.”
For you must know that the faeries never like their revels gazed upon by mortal eye, and if they catch any one looking they pinch him black and blue; so Berl had good reason to be afraid of venturing into the enchanted wood at night.
He followed his wife cautiously, always keeping her in sight, but taking care she should not see him, when suddenly she crossed an open glade and vanished. Berl ran after her, but could find no trace of Lurina at all, and was quite disconsolate, when all at once he espied her sitting at the foot of a great beech tree, leaning against the trunk, with her beautiful face looking pale and white in the moonshine. Having watched her for a long time, he ventured to approach and call her by name, but, to his astonishment, she did not answer nor express surprise at seeing him, but simply stared across the glade with vague, unseeing eyes.
Emboldened by her silence, Berl ran up and fell on his knees with a little laugh, thinking she would scold him for having dared to follow her. He was perplexed, however, to see that she still did not seem to notice him, and when at last he took one of her hands, it was as cold as ice. Starting up in alarm, he looked closely at her, and found that she did not breathe—placed his hand on her heart, and discovered that it did not beat.
“Why, she’s dead!” he cried in alarm. “Lurina, it is I, your husband, Berl.”
Still Lurina did not answer. So, convinced she was dead, Berl threw her body over his shoulder and hurried home. When he got inside, he did everything he could to revive her, but it was no use; the beautiful Lurina was dead, and Berl sat all night beside her body, weeping bitterly.
At the first red flush of dawn, he went from house to house, telling Lurina’s parents and all the neighbours that his wife had died the preceding night in the forest. Every one came to Berl’s house to see if it was true, and offer advice, which one’s neighbours are very fond of doing. Among those who came was the Wise Woman, who surveyed the beautiful Lurina for some time in silence, then laughed loudly.
“Why do you laugh?” asked Berl, angry with her for doing so.
“I laugh at your folly,” said the Wise Woman, looking oddly at him. “Lurina is no more dead than I am.”