And so it happened. Night was just closing in as the hero slowly neared the distant house. On the moor was a throng of phantoms flitting on Petru's right and left hand, before and behind him.
"Don't be afraid," said the bay. "Those are the Whirlwind's daughters; they are dancing in the air, waiting for the moon eater."
So they reached Holy Friday's house. "Dismount and enter," said the bay.
Petru was about to do what he had been told.
"Stop, don't be in such a hurry," the horse continued. "Let me first tell you what you are to do. You can't go into Holy Friday's house so unceremoniously; she is guarded by the Whirlwinds."
"What am I to do?"
"Take the copper wreath and go with it to the hill you see yonder. When you reach the top, begin to call: 'Good Heavens, what beautiful girls, what angels, what fairy-like creatures!' Then hold the garland aloft, and say: 'If I only knew whether any body would take this wreath from me—if I only knew! If I only knew!' and hurl the garland away."
"Why should I do that?" asked Petru, as a man is in the habit of questioning, when he wants to know the cause of his acts.
"Silence! Go and do it," replied the bay curtly, and Petru, without further words, did as he was bid.
Scarcely had the hero flung the wreath aside, when the Whirlwinds rushed upon it and tussled around it.