“‘Oh, what will become of the dear child?’ exclaimed the woman, wringing her hands.
“‘If she drinks of the waters of the spring,’ responded the old man, ‘or eats of the pomegranate-seed, she will fall into a deep sleep. Then will come Rimrak, the Conjurer, and convey her to his cave, and there she will be held captive until she forgets she is a captive, or until she has been rescued by some bold youth who loves her well enough to remember the color of her eyes.’
“‘I remember! I remember!’ cried the woman’s handsome son.
“‘Be not too sure,’ replied the old man. ‘Sit down and think it over.’
“‘No need for that,’ said the boy. ‘Her eyes once seen can never be forgotten.’
“‘Oho!’ exclaimed the old man. ‘Then perhaps you can tell me the color of the little girl’s eyes?’
“‘Certainly,’ said the boy. ‘They are brown when she lifts them to your face and dark when she looks away from you.’
“The old man nodded his head with a greater display of good humor than he had yet shown.
“‘Ah, you think so,’ said the old man, warningly; ‘you think you know, but be not too sure.’
“‘Why, I can see her now!’ exclaimed the boy.