"No," said Anne, "not to a living soul."
Beate could think of nothing but the island all that evening, and when she had closed her eyes she could dream of nothing else all night. Now it was covered with blood-red spots—now it was green; then she thought that the loon cried "I am the Princess of England, but I have been bewitched and must stay a loon."
Just as soon as Beate got up in the morning she begged her father to row her and Marie and Louise out to the floating island, when they came to visit her in the afternoon, and that he promised.
But he also asked how she had happened to think of that and what she wanted there. Beate thought first that she would tell him everything, but then she remembered Anne's words and only said that she wished to go out there because the little green island was so pretty, and she wished to look at it more closely.
"Yes, indeed, it is pretty and you shall see a loon's nest too," said the father stroking Beate's brown hair.
Then Beate's face grew red and the tears came to her eyes, for she knew well enough about the loon's nest and about the eggs.
In the afternoon the father took the three little girls down to the lake. Viggo was along too, but there was no boat, only a raft, not large enough to carry all of them, so he had to stay behind. And he was perfectly willing for he was now older and had grown more thoughtful than when we last heard of him. Now he helped the little girls on the raft.
The water was like a mirror, black and shining. The big pine forest on one shore and the green hillside on the other stood on their heads and looked at themselves in the smooth surface. Round about, close to the water's edge, stood the tall grasses high and straight, like regiments of soldiers guarding the quiet little lake. And here and there lay broad green leaves and large snowy water-lilies swimming on the dark water. Beate's friends thought this was the loveliest thing they had ever seen, and they begged the father to stop and get some of the pretty water-lilies for them. But Beate alone was longing for the floating island.
It lay in the middle of the lake, and when they drew near, it looked as if there were two little islands, one on top of the water and one below its surface, and the latter was almost prettier than the former. The father rowed close up to the island and around it, and when he came to the other side the loon plunged out of the reeds into the water and was gone.
"There is the loon's nest," said the father and landed the raft.