“Poor little match man!”
“Oh, yes. If I had only been able to fly. Even a mosquito can defend himself, but a willow, even if he is large and has lived a hundred and fifty years, can’t protect himself from any peril. It is terrible!”
“Indeed it is.”
“But to go on. Not long after I heard a cautious step and a rustling among the shrubs. My leaves shivered all over when I saw approaching—guess what!”
“A ferocious wild beast.”
“Worse! I saw a man coming.
“‘This is the first,’ I said to myself. ‘Now others will come—they will set fire to the woods, and I shall die tortured in the flames.’ And my leaves shook even harder, as if there had been I don’t know what kind of a wind.
“But no more men came, and I began to calm myself and to look about coolly. This man was very handsome, and dressed all in silver armour. He was so exhausted he could hardly walk. It seemed to me he left drops of blood behind him. He breathed hard. He stumbled over tufts of grass, he fell and rose again and went on staggering. Where he fell the grass was covered with blood. I am telling the truth when I say I forgot my own danger, I was so full of pity for him.”
“Good for you, Fiam!”
“At last he fell, close to my trunk. I looked at him. He was very young. The armour on his breast was broken. He took off his helmet, which was tied with a red cord under his chin, and laid his head against me to rest better. The sun had risen and I gave some shade to the wounded man. Some time passed, but I don’t know how long it was when I heard a distant noise.”