"We must return to earth—the guests are all departing."
"But one more glance—the last!"
And Helga stood again in the verandah, but all the torches outside were extinguished; all the light in the bridal saloon was gone; the storks were gone; no guests were to be seen—no bridegroom. All had vanished in these three short minutes.
Then Helga felt anxious. She wandered through the vast empty halls—there slept foreign soldiers. She opened the side door which led to her own chambers, and, as she fancied she was entering them, she found herself in the garden: it had not stood there. Red streaks crossed the skies; it was the dawn of day.
Only three minutes in heaven, and a whole night on earth had passed away.
Then she perceived the storks. She called to them, spoke their language, and the old stork turned his head towards her, listened, and drew near.
"Thou dost speak our language," said he. "What wouldst thou? Whence comest thou, thou foreign maiden?"
"It is I—it is Helga! Dost thou not know me? Three minutes ago we were talking together in the verandah."
"That is a mistake," said the stork. "Thou must have dreamt this."
"No, no," she said, and reminded him of the Viking's castle, "the wild morass," the journey thence.