I did not stay much longer in the Wunderberg, for somehow the scented air seemed to have grown chilly. When I said to Snow-blossom that I must leave her, she wept again, and gave me a shining strand of hair to guide me back to the moor. It turned into gossamer when I reached the daylight, and floated softly away.
Heinrich was still munching at the short grass, and stared at me very hard when I caught his bridle. I suppose he thought I had been a long while gone.
If you’ve ever tried to count the raindrops, you will know how I felt when for three whole days it poured in torrents. I was alone in the library, watching a hole in the wainscotting through which a mouse had just poked her head, when some one said “Guten Morgen” in a piping voice, and I knew this must be a Kobold. I was rather surprised that I had not met one of these House-Spirits before.
He was sitting on the edge of a bookcase—a little brown man with a wrinkled, good-natured face, and wearing no clothes. He chuckled when I said that I would rather speak English if he did not mind, and remarked that all languages were the same to him.
“I believe you have met some cousins of mine, the Brownies,” he went on affably, kissing his hand to the mouse, who popped back to her hole as if he had shocked her. “They are good little chaps, but quiet and humdrum. You always know what a Brownie will do, but as for us—mortals can never tell what a Kobold will be up to next. We make ourselves quite at home in their houses, and really own them, if the truth were known. But excuse me—I should not appear before you in this undress.”
In the twinkling of an eye the Kobold had changed himself into a curly haired boy, with smooth pink cheeks and a red silk coat, and knickerbockers of dark green velvet. “This is my best suit,” he explained proudly, turning himself from side to side. “I usually wear it when I play with children who were born, like yourself, at the blessed feast of Christmas-tide. It is only one of my many disguises, however, though I seldom allow myself to be seen at all. I can even hide in the cast-off coat of a harmless snake, and woe to him who lays stick upon me or seeks to drive me away. The Heinzelmänchen, as we are called, can be bitter foes as well as powerful friends, and ’twas an evil day for the city of Köln when we marched out of it. It has never prospered since.”