The elf led her to a basin of black looking liquid; she looked into it, and there, in the blackness, she beheld herself transformed into—oh what? a white and woolly lamb. “Oh,” said she, “this is a true mirror; but why is it that I cannot skip and play? It is quite as pleasant, though, to glide about on this smooth floor.” After some time, she had become so much accustomed to believing herself a lamb, that it really began to be as if she ran and leaped about, and presently she seemed to be running up the spiral staircase, and when she had reached the top, she seemed to spring along over the meadows, thinking to herself, Oh! now what will mother say, when she sees I am an innocent lamb? Yes, I am a lamb! Oh, the truth-telling mirror.
“The truth-telling mirror!” repeated a soft, sweet voice directly in front of Rosa. It seemed to come from amongst the high clover through which she was bounding, as she thought, but she saw nothing but the red clover blossoms and the yellow king-cups. Hist! she hears the gentle waving of wings, like the wings of doves; and from out the clover arise beautiful little fairy-like forms, bright as humming-birds. “Rosa,” said one of them, in a voice like the Æolian harp, “Come, I will show you the truth-telling mirror. I have it up in my pavilion in the sky. We are the fairies of the upper air; I am the queen. I have, resting on the clouds, a pavilion made of pearl. Oh! it is light up there; you cannot look around but the rainbow meets your eye.”
“I have looked into the true mirror,” said Rosa, “and it showed me the lamb which thou seest I am.”
“My eye sees thee but as the child Rosa; but my heart knows thy heart as the mirror would show it, and I know what thou art. Follow me; it is best thou shouldst see thyself.”
“Give me thy hand,” said Rosa, “and lead me up.”
“Nay, I cannot give thee my hand; I would not willingly come very near such as thou; but thou shalt be led. We fairy band will collect, and unite together, and a golden cloud shall enwrap us, and the cloud shall rise up, and thou shalt follow it till it reaches the pavilion.”
“I do not love you; you are not kind,” said Rosa; “but I am curious to look into your mirror; so I will follow.” And Rosa saw the cloud arise like a globe of gold, and she seemed to arise with it; and in circles up they swept, higher! higher! till, as she saw the golden ball above and the green ball of earth below, the latter seemed the smaller globe of the two.
When they had reached the pavilion, the fairies came out of the cloud and alighted upon the pearly steps, and it seemed to Rosa as if she had a flock of doves waving their wings around and above her.
The queen led her into the pavilion, where she saw a table on which a splendid feast was spread. “I do not wish to eat with you,” said Rosa; “I only wish to see if your mirror speaks the truth.”
“Thou canst not eat with us,” said the queen; “we ask not such as thou to our table. Come, pitiable child! and behold thyself. My mirror shows not the outside, but the inside;” and the queen led Rosa to a crystal basin, wreathed with flowers of many hues, and sending forth the sweetest odors. The dome-roof of the pavilion was lined with sapphires, and this was reflected in the clear water, and on this blue ground Rosa beheld herself,—a scaly serpent of a dull coppery red. It recoiled at the sight of itself. “Oh, you are cruel!” she cried to the queen; “this cannot be true!” But she perceived again that she did not leap and run, nor stand erect, but moved along with an undulatory motion, and her ear seemed to hear the scaly folds sweep along as she moved. She hissed in anger and writhed in agony, because she dreaded that her mother should behold her in that form. “Nay, my poor child,” said the queen, “this is vain; go and transform thyself into something better.” And it seemed to Rosa that she had awakened and found that she was lying in bed, still retaining the serpent form. “Oh! agony! mother will come into the chamber, and instead of her Rosa, whom I know she means to forgive, she will find a scaly serpent coiled up in the bed. And instead of the kiss she would have given me, she will give a shriek, and run frightened away.” Then Rosa thought her mother came in, started and shrieked as she had dreaded, and the poor child arose as erect as she was able, and protested she was not what she appeared. “Mother! mother!” she cried, “I am not a serpent! oh! I am not, believe me, mother! Forgive me! kiss me, and I shall be your Rosa again.” “Kiss a serpent?” cried her mother, “Heaven have mercy! where is my child?” And then her mother with clasped hands looked upon her with a look that pierced her heart, and she sunk down and crept beneath the bed-clothes. Her mother shrieked—but no—it was the creaking of the chamber door. Rosa awoke—her mother bent over her and kissed her wet cheek. “What ails thee, my dear child? Why dost thou weep so?” “Mother! mother! I am not a serpent! do not kill me!” “My dearest child, what have you been dreaming about?” said her mother laughing; and Rosa now laughed in delight to find that she was not a serpent, and she told her dream. “Repent, my Rosa, and behave well to-day, and perhaps you will dream a pleasanter dream, to-night. Was it not the serpent within you which induced you cunningly to deceive me and to disobey me, for the sake of gratifying your own selfish wishes? Take care that he does not creep in again. Now dress yourself, and after breakfast I shall have some work for you to do, and if you do your task well, and are obedient and sweet-tempered all through the day, then I shall believe the serpent has crept away and a pretty lamb is born in you.” Rosa felt very light-hearted when she laid down to rest the next night, for she had done so well during the day that her mother had hardly been obliged to reprove her for anything, which was remarkable, for Rosa was rather a wilful child. “What a good girl I have——” but before the sentence was completed, Rosa was in a dream. It was not rainy that night, nor were the window curtains fluttering; but Rosa heard the rustling and pattering behind her as she stood by the pond, curling her ringlets around her fingers, and thinking how prettily she looked. “Rosa! Rosa!” said many cracked voices, “come and ride the peacock. Our peacock steeds will carry us up to the clouds, so that we can see the pavilion of the air-fairies. Come, we are all going up.” And the elf-king touched with his wand some flowers that grew on the banks of the pond, and instantly they were changed into peacocks. Each of the elves leaped upon the back of one, and the king placed Rosa before him on his. This was certainly fine; the peacocks spread their tails so wide and looked so proud, and held their pretty crowned heads so high; and though the elf-king’s claw grasped Rosa’s waist rather tightly, and his voice grated harshly upon her ear, when he now and then cried, “high! high, boy!” to his steed, she did not much care for it, it was so fine to be sweeping through the air on the beautiful bird.