The Minstrel rose from his seat and went quickly to the door. He threw it wide open and looked out. The Mistress also rose, slowly, painfully, her stiffened joints creaking. The Maid of Beauty rose from her loom, joyful because her task was finished. All three looked out through the narrow door. Before them was the bare ground, sloping gently towards the shore and the smooth gray surface of the little inlet; above them was the cloud-flecked sky, cold and cheerless, without sign of bird or other living creature.
The child on the floor laughed.
They looked a second time, and from the meadow pathway they saw the hero coming, even Ilmarinen the Smith, the mightiest of all [[238]]wizards. Gaunt and tall he was, and pale and wan from long toil and endless wanderings. His garments were soiled and torn, his feet were bare and scarred with wounds, his head was uncovered. But his step was firm as the step of a conqueror, and his eyes glowed brightly with joy as the eyes of one who has been victorious in battle.
And on his shoulders he carried the monstrous head of the Pike.
“Welcome, welcome, friend and brother!” cried Wainamoinen, rushing out eagerly, boisterously, to meet him. “Long indeed have we waited for you.”
“Welcome, welcome, hero of the later day!” muttered Sakko, small of stature, weak of body, wisest of earth women. “Bravely have you proved yourself a hero, thrice bravely have you shown your wizard power.”
And Louhi, the gray old Mistress, also cheerily cried, “Welcome, welcome! You have won the prize, Ilmarinen; your courage has been tested, your wisdom has been tried, and now you shall be rewarded. The duckling that I have cherished shall be yours, to sit on your knee, to nestle dove-like in your arms, to be the [[239]]queen of your household, the mistress of your kitchen.”
But where was the Maid of Beauty? She was not with those who stood at the door to welcome the conquering hero. Her seat at the fireside was empty; her place at the loom was vacant. She was hiding in her own room, her body all a-tremble, her face bathed in tears.
Proudly and joyfully then did the hero enter the low-roofed dwelling.
“O Jumala!” he murmured. “O giver of good gifts, grant thy blessing to this house! Bless all that live beneath this roof!”