And now it was midnight; and the green cage, drawn by the showman’s horse, rolled down a deserted road to the edge of the wildwood. A moon almost at the full sailed the high heavens, now vanishing under thin, black clouds, now floating forth through silvery rifts and isles. Side by side, saying little to each other, sat the showman and the youth.
Suddenly a high wall of rustling darkness loomed before them at the verge of a moonlit field; the cage had reached the gate of the forest. With a key given him by the showman—who was a little afraid—the squire’s son unlocked the cage, and freed the Man of the Wildwood. And even as he did so, a summer breeze went singing through the wildwood with a great cry of joy.
Free at last, the Man of the Wildwood said naught, but lifted his head to the stars. Then raising his right arm high above his head, he made a stately sign of salutation to the youth, and walked like a king into the darkness of the trees.
The next morning the youth rose early and set forth once more upon his travels. Cities he saw, and nations, and kingdoms, but no one in them whom he thought fairer than Miranda. As for Miranda, scarce had the squire’s son ridden away, than she began to hope for his return.
Little by little the tide of summer rose to its full, and ebbing, left the gifts of golden autumn in the fields.
But now you must hear of the three merchants, the moonstone, and the misfortunes of Miranda.
It was a harvest eve, and presently Miranda, watching by the tavern door, beheld three men habited as merchants making their way along the city street to the inn. Somewhat to her surprise, they came afoot. Two of these merchants, I must tell you, were tall and lean, whilst the third was short and fat and had green eyes. Unwilling to refuse, yet somewhat against her better judgment, Miranda granted the request of these merchants for lodgment at the inn.
Now these three merchants, alas, were not merchants at all but three famous thieves, who had come to the city to steal a certain celebrated gem belonging to the king. This gem was a moonstone—a moonstone of such rare loveliness that men fabled that it had tumbled to earth from the moon, and been found in a forest glade at the end of a ray of summer moonshine. In all the world nothing there was more fair.
And now it was another midnight, and the three thieves, quitting their rooms in the inn, stole as quietly as three cats down the oaken stairway to the empty street. Unknown to them, however, Miranda—wakened by their whispers—followed close behind, now retreating into shadowy doorways, now leaning against a wall lest she be seen.
Presently the rogues approached the huge darkened mass of the palace, and made their way into the grounds through the dreaming gardens. A little fountain splashed somewhere in the night. The moon had set, and a thin layer of cloud dimmed the wheeling stars.