He, the crafty elf! had no lack of self-possession; and so, though foiled in his object, he contrived to make it seem as if his yielding was rather the result of good-nature than necessity, whereby he hoped that, before long, he should reduce the unfortunate Prince to his former condition of listless docility.
But if young Eigenwillig had not yet acquired sufficient resolution to enter on a further struggle with his oppressor, he was no longer inclined to look on him in the light of an agreeable companion. He had now learned the falseness and hollowness of his professions; he began to see through his artifices; he was no longer unconscious of his unwieldy size; he had contrived to catch a glimpse of his features, and to see that they were hideous and ape-like, and to perceive that his very breath was loathsome and pestilential.
And this was a great point gained, though much more remained behind to be accomplished. It set the Prince upon reflecting on the Lady Abracadabra’s last words to him, and on the ill-considered haste of his recent decision.
But why did he not summon to his aid the venerable stranger who had first appeared to him, and who had promised to be close at hand to help him?
It is not difficult to find an answer to this inquiry. Greatly as Prince Eigenwillig had been improved by his recent trials, he had a good deal of false pride still hanging about him, which disinclined him to own himself in the wrong; and then, though the old man had been so kind to him, it is sometimes difficult to get over first impressions, and the stern, austere countenance, and grave manners of that venerable person, rendered him unattractive. The Prince was afraid of him, and he felt as if he could not make a friend of any one of whom he stood in awe. Still he had grateful feelings towards the grey-robed stranger, and desired to have an opportunity of seeing more of him.
Moreover, he had a secret conviction that the old man was the only person who could protect him against the tyranny of Selbst, and he determined upon any fresh act of tyranny, to call the old man to his aid.
It was not long before his resolution was put to the test.
Though Selbst, like a cowardly bully, had given way when he found he was manfully resisted, and though, like a cunning knave, he had endeavoured to make his defeat appear like a voluntary concession, still he was too fond of having his own way, and of domineering upon all occasions, to go on for long without further exasperating his victim against him.
When he yielded the point upon the fountain, he commanded the Prince to carry him to the top of a hill at some distance; the air, he said, would be less hot and oppressive there than in the valley. This was his nominal reason; his real object was to punish the Prince, by wearing him out with fatigue and exhaustion.
The Prince, bending under his burden, accordingly set forth towards the hill; but he had now been on foot many hours, and every step he took, Selbst seemed to grow heavier and heavier; however, he contrived, though very weary and breathless, to reach the bottom of the hill; but there he stopped.