Rupert allowed the negro to open his chest and to take out a piece of his heart. When he crossed to the other side he gave a sigh of satisfaction. The first step was taken, and he already saw the beautiful City of Fortune, whose resplendent walls sent out lovely reflections. But he noticed that he was much less anxious to arrive at the city of gold and had a strange emptiness in his chest. Withal, he continued his walk; but he had not taken a hundred steps when a new difficulty arose to obstruct the way. This stretched between two inaccessible mountains and the entrance to the defile was kept by another guardian as black as the one of the boat.
"Where are you going, boy?" he asked our lad.
"To the City of Fortune."
"Quite so, this is the way; but you have to pay for the passage. The payment is a little piece of heart."
Without hesitating, Rupert opened his chest and left a handful of fibres of that organ of life in the hands of the terrible gate-keeper.
And he went on and on towards the city, which each time showed itself nearer and more beautiful to his eyes. But each time he felt less anxiety to arrive.
Still he had not finished with the difficulties. The path soon shortened, forming a terrible ravine; only to think of crossing it was more than he could dream of. Rupert believed his hopes broken, and sat down disheartened on a stone.
At that moment a vulture of great size came down from the top of a mountain and, drawing near him, said:
"Do you wish to go across? Well, give me a piece of your heart."
"Take it, and carry me over," said Rupert, desperate.