“You certainly have been very unfortunate so far,” answered the old woman, “and I fear there is but little chance of your finding what you seek here.”
While they were talking, the sun had set, and as the weather showed signs of again turning stormy, the ambassadors asked the old woman whether she could give them shelter.
At first she absolutely refused, saying her miserable hut was not fitted to receive people accustomed to live in royal castles; but, as the storm increased, they continued to urge her to let them stay, till at length she consented and bade them enter.
What was their surprise and astonishment to find the inside of this apparently miserable hut richly fitted up like some kingly apartment
Handsome skins covered the floor, soft couches ran round the walls, which were ornamented with richly chased shields and arms, and a bright fire burnt cheerily on the hearth.
As soon as the men were seated, the old woman laid the great oaken table which stood in the centre, and served the strangers with such dainty dishes as might well befit a royal table.
“And do you mean to say that you live here all alone?” asked the chief ambassador, during the meal.
“I might almost say that I do,” replied the woman, “for besides myself there is no one here but my only child Guda.”
“And, pray, may we not see the maiden?” asked the ambassador; for they were all wondering what the girl, living alone with her mother in these strange surroundings, would be like.
Again the old woman demurred; but the more she pretended to hesitate, the more the ambassadors urged her, till at last she consented, and said she would bring her daughter.