He lifted the Golden Maiden and placed her in the cushioned seat wherein his lost wife had often reposed. He put his arm around her waist, but she did not return his caress. He kissed her cherry red lips, but they were cold, [[288]]cold, cold. He spoke many endearing words in her ear, but she gave him no answer. He took her hands between his own, but there was no throbbing of life in them.
“She is cold, so cold!” he muttered. “She is like ice, like snow in midwinter!”
Then he laid her on a silken couch, put soft pillows beneath her head, and covered her with warm blankets and quilted coverlets. And as he did so he prayed unceasingly to the dear dead one whom he had loved so much:
“O thou who wert once the Maid of Beauty, come and dwell in this body of gold! Come and give life to this precious maiden; fill her veins with blood, give warmth to her body, sight to her eyes, hearing to her ears!”
All night long he sat beside the couch, holding the maiden’s hands and breathing his own warm breath into her face. All night long he moaned and wept and called the name of his lost wife whom the beasts had devoured. At length the new day dawned and the sunlight streamed into the room and fell upon the couch. The Golden Maiden was as cold as before, her face was white with frost, her body was frozen to the blankets. [[289]]
“Ah, me! there is no hope!” said the Smith, despairing utterly; and he lifted the image from its resting place. “Never will the dead come to life again, never will my loved one return to me. Henceforth I shall walk alone upon the earth.”
He took the Golden Maiden gently in his arms, he smoothed the drapery about her, and carried her to his old friend, the Minstrel.
“O Wainamoinen, tried and true!” he cried. “Here I bring you a present—a maiden of great worth, golden and beautiful. See her fair face, her comely form, her feet so small and shapely.”
The Minstrel, wise and steadfast, looked at the image closely, admiringly. Then he said, “She is indeed a pretty maiden, and the likeness is perfect. But wherefore do you bring her to me?”
“Dear brother, friend, companion,” answered the Smith, “I bring her to you because I love you, because I would make you happy. Years ago we both wooed the same Maid of Beauty. I won her because I was young; you lost her because you were old. I know what must have been your sorrow and disappointment. Now, when there can be no more joy for me, I bring [[290]]you this Golden Maiden to be your solace and delight. She has the form and features of the Maid of Beauty, and I doubt not she will please you. She will sit on your knee and nestle dovelike in your arms—and she is worth her weight in gold.”