'In his rapture he raised his wing-cases and quivered his gauzy wings. Higher! and yet higher I His wings fluttered, his legs released the grass-stem, and then—oh joy! Whoo-oo I He was flying—freely and gladly, in the still, warm evening air!'
'And then?' said Johannes.
'The end is not happy. I will tell it you some day later.'
They were hovering over the pool. A pair of white butterflies fluttered to meet them.
'Whither are you travelling, elves?' they asked.
'To the large wild rose-tree which blooms by yonder mound.'
'We will go with you; we will go too!'
The rose-bush was already in sight in the distance, with its abundance of pale-yellow sheeny blossoms. The buds were red and the open flowers were dashed with red, as if they remembered the time when they were still buds.
The wild down-rose bloomed in peaceful solitude, and filled the air with its wonderfully sweet odours. They are so fine that the down-elves live on nothing else. The butterflies fluttered about and kissed flower after flower.
'We have come to place a treasure in your charge,' cried Windekind. 'Will you keep it safe for us?'