"I am sorry indeed," said the man.
"For what?"
"For having disappointed you as a friend, and also for having lost my dear unruly sprite who kept me from being dull."
"Lost him!" exclaimed the lady. "How?"
"By now," said the man, "he must be quite dead, for I tied him to a tree in the forest five days a go and left him to starve."
"You are a brute," said the lady, "and a very stupid man. Come, take me to the tree. At least we can bury the poor sprite, and then we shall part forever."
So he took her by the hand and guided her through the woods, and they talked much of the sadness of parting forever.
When they came to the tree, there was the little sprite, with his wrists and ankles bound, lying upon the moss. His eyes were closed, and his body was white as a snowdrop. They knelt down, one on each side of him, and untied the cord. To their surprise his hands felt warm. "I believe he is not quite dead," said the lady. "Shall we try to bring him to life?" asked the man. And with that they fell to chafing his wrists and his palms. Presently he gave each of them a slight pressure of the fingers.
"Did you feel that?" cried she.
"Indeed I did," the man answered. "It shook me to the core. Would you like to take him on your lap so that I can chafe his feet?"