“Or a thousand others?” returned the wise woman. “But the one you have just seen is the likest to the real me that you are able to see just yet—but—. And that me you could not have seen a little while ago.—But, my darling child,” she went on, lifting her up and clasping her to her bosom, “you must not think, because you have seen me once, that therefore you are capable of seeing me at all times. No; there are many things in you yet that must be changed before that can be. Now, however, you will seek me. Every time you feel you want me, that is a sign I am wanting you. There are yet many rooms in my house you may have to go through; but when you need no more of them, then you will be able to throw flowers like the little girl you saw in the forest.”
The princess gave a sigh.
“Do not think,” the wise woman went on, “that the things you have seen in my house are mere empty shows. You do not know, you cannot yet think, how living and true they are.—Now you must go.”
She led her once more into the great hall, and there showed her the picture of her father’s capital, and his palace with the brazen gates.
“There is your home,” she said. “Go to it.”
The princess understood, and a flush of shame rose to her forehead. She turned to the wise woman and said:
“Will you forgive all my naughtiness, and all the trouble I have given you?”
“If I had not forgiven you, I would never have taken the trouble to punish you. If I had not loved you, do you think I would have carried you away in my cloak?”
“How could you love such an ugly, ill-tempered, rude, hateful little wretch?”
“I saw, through it all, what you were going to be,” said the wise woman, kissing her. “But remember you have yet only begun to be what I saw.”