AT last, even the thin crescent of the moon disappeared, and once more Aster lay motionless, and, as it were, without life, the same tiny, helpless thing which Eva had taken from the crest of the fountain. Once more she wandered, alone,—for what companionship could she find in the senseless little figure which she carried about with her?—through the strange, dream-like country in which she now found herself. But, wherever she went, a feeling she could not explain nor understand made her hold the helpless little prince close, never for a moment letting him pass from her loving clasp.
“As day by day the path led them on into the forest, the trees altered their shape.” [Page 53.]
Once more, too, the faint earth-light shone, instead of the vanished moon. And Eva thought that while Aster lay helpless, there were fewer difficulties in her path; the faces no longer appeared to torment and harass her; the way seemed easier to her feet; more and brighter flowers bloomed along the path; and the misty, shadowy shapes which were to be seen at intervals passing among the close-set trunks of the trees were fair and lovely to look upon.
But this quiet was not to last. Again, after a time, the music rang triumphantly through the forest; and again, as the young moon sprang to her station overhead, Aster awoke, to all appearance unconscious of the time he had slept, and of the distance which Eva had carried him. As he grew, with the moon, it seemed to her that he was changed; that he was no longer the gentle, loving boy who had wandered with her when the first moon shone: something elfish, imp-like, and changeable had come over him.
Then, too, as day by day the path led them on into the forest, which seemed endless, the trees altered their shape. Sometimes they were circled with huge, twining snakes, which Eva thought seemed coiled there, ready to seize her as she passed, though when near them they proved to be nothing but huge vines climbing up the trees. Here and there in the path lay huge stones, which you might think at first sight were insurmountable, obstructing their further progress; yet, if either Eva’s foot touched them, or the hem of her white dress brushed ever so lightly against them, they would always fade away, like a shadow, into utter nothingness, or else would roll slowly away to one side, leaving the path clear. But when Aster saw the stones he would cry, and say that they would crush him if he passed them, and the only way in which Eva could soothe him was by taking him up in her arms and carrying him past the stones, while he hid his face, so as not to see them, in her long, golden curls.
Every now and then, in spite of what he had often told Eva,—that she, and she only, could find and give him the flower which he had lost,—Aster would declare to her that he saw it blooming in places where she saw nothing but nettles or ugly weeds, but which he would always insist were beds of the most beautiful flowers. These flowers, he said, called to him to come and gather them; while Eva thought that warning voices bade her pass them by, and that she saw over or else among them shadows of the same hateful faces which she dreaded. But it was useless to try and convince Aster of this; she soon learned that nothing ever presented the same appearance to him that it did to her.
In consequence, whenever Aster insisted upon leaving the path, as he often did, Eva watched him with a kind of terror, and never felt he was safe unless she led him by the hand. Placed, as he was, under her care, she felt sure that when with her no danger could come near him, nothing harm him. Still, if he had enemies in this great forest, he had friends, too; for once, when he stooped to gather a flower which bloomed near the path, she heard it say:
“Guard thou well thy charge to-day,