"Good luck attend her!" said Civil. "It is a dowry for a princess."
"So you may say," replied the merman. "But make up your mind which of the maidens you will marry, for the third has no portion at all, because she is not my daughter; but only, as you may see, a poor silly girl taken into my family for charity."
"Truly, my lord," said Civil, whose mind was already made up, "both your daughters are too rich and far too noble for me; therefore I choose the third. Since she is poor she will best do for a poor fisherman."
"If you choose her," said the merman, "you must wait long for a wedding. I cannot allow a girl of lower estate to be married before my own daughters." And he said a great deal more to persuade him. But Civil would not change his mind, and they returned to the hall.
There was no more attention for the fisherman, but everybody watched him well. Turn where he would, master or guest had their eyes upon him, though he made them the best speeches he could remember, and praised all their splendid things. One thing, however, was strange—there was no end to the fun and feasting. Nobody seemed tired, and nobody thought of sleep.
When Civil's very eyes closed with weariness, and he slept on one of the marble benches—no matter how many hours—there were the company feasting and dancing away; there were the thousand lamps within, and the cold moonlight without. Civil wished himself back with his mother, his net, and his cobbled skiff. Fishing would have been easier than those everlasting feasts; but there was nothing else among the sea-people—no night of rest, no working day.
Civil knew not how time went on, till, waking up from a long sleep, he saw, for the first time, that the feast was over, and the company gone. The lamps still burned, and the tables, with all their riches, stood in the empty halls; but there was no face to be seen, no sound to be heard, only a low voice singing beside the outer door. And there, sitting all alone, he found the mild-eyed maiden.
"Fair lady," said Civil, "tell me what means this quietness, and where are all the merry company?"
"You are a man of the land," said the lady, "and know not the sea-people. They never sleep but once a year, and that is at Christmas time. Then they go into the deep caverns, where there is always darkness, and sleep till the new year comes."
"It is a strange habit," said Civil; "but all folks have their way. Fair lady, as you and I are to be good friends, tell me, whence come all the wines and meats, and gold and silver vessels, seeing there are neither cornfields nor flocks here, nor any workmen?"