Then the prince drew his sword, and smote the hillside, so that it cleft asunder by reason of the cross-shaped hilt, and together they entered a hall dim and vasty, where the hill fairies were holding their revels. The elfin king the while sat moodily watching the dance, but upon the entry of the strangers he descended the steps of his throne and came forward to greet them. The weaver then saw that his eyes were treacherous and cruel, but the prince saw only that upon his head he wore the crown that was the desire of his lady’s heart. The king placed them on either side of his throne, and made them welcome.
“Tell me, I beg of you,” said the weaver, impatient of delay, “is there at your court a maid of the name of Micheline?”
“The maid is indeed at my court,” replied the king, “though among us she goes by another name.”
“How came I then to meet her among mortals?” asked the weaver.
Then the king made answer: “The widow who is now her fostermother found her among the stubble under the harvest moon, and the next night she heard a tapping at her window, and went, and saw a fairy nurse standing by the sill. ‘Give me back my child,’ said the fairy nurse, ‘the child whom I laid to sleep among the stubble.’ ‘That will I not,’ quoth the widow woman, ‘for she is mine now, and I have had her christened like one of ourselves.’ ‘I love her too well to take her against her will,’ answered the fairy nurse, ‘in years to come she shall choose between us.’ ‘I love her too well to keep her against her will,’ said the widow woman, ‘so it shall be as you say.’ Thus it happens that the maid is sometimes with us, and sometimes with her fostermother.”
Then the weaver turned and saw a troop of fairies coming towards him, and Micheline was of the number, fair as ever in her dress of green, with a blackthorn wreath in her hair. Forthwith he sprang to meet her and caught her in his arms, and at once was whirled away into the midst of the dance. But all this time the prince sat silent and thoughtful, pondering by what means he might obtain possession of the elfin crown.
Louder and louder grew the bursts of song, madder and madder reeled the dance. The weaver’s senses swam, his feet seemed to become leaden, and the sweat stood out upon his forehead. The fairies pressed hard upon him, and strange evil faces peered into his, like the faces of ape and wild cat, bear, and bat and viper. Now as the rout swayed backwards and forwards before the steps of the throne, the prince awoke from his musing, and caught sight of the weaver, who with blanched face and dishevelled hair was stretching out his hands in a prayer for help. Then the prince started to his feet, and with a cry drew his sword from its sheath. The fairies fell back before the cross-shaped hilt, and the elfin king himself quailed upon his throne. Micheline alone stood her ground.
“Little care I for your holy sign,” quoth she, “have I not been christened even as you?” So saying she stepped forward, and touching the prince and the weaver upon brow and breast, she turned them both into nightingales.
“So shall you remain,” said she, “until I die.” And with that she burst out laughing, knowing that fairies are immortal. Then the nightingales took wing and flew away out of the cleft in the hillside by which they had entered.
“It seems we are still to be brothers in misfortune,” said the prince, “let us therefore remain together, good friend.”