“I’ll tell thee that later on, but in the meanwhile shall I give thee some medicines that will put an end to the spell that holds him?”
“Oh, do, little mother, and I’ll pay thee for them whatever thou wilt, for I hate to see him as he is now.”
“Very well, then. Take this bit of rope, my little chicken, but let him not know anything about it, or it will lose its effect. Now when he is asleep, rise up, and going to him very very softly, tie his left leg as hard as thou canst, and thou wilt see, dear heart, that on the morrow he’ll remain a man. Money I do not want. I shall be more than repaid if I release him from this scourge. My very heart-strings are bursting with compassion for thy lord, my rose-bud, and I grieve, oh how bitterly I grieve, that I did not come this way before, so as to help thee sooner.”
When the old hag had departed, the daughter of the Emperor took care to carefully conceal the piece of rope, but in the middle of the night she softly arose so that he shouldn’t hear her, and holding her very breath, tied the string round her husband’s left leg, but when she tied the knot—r-rch!—the string broke, for it was rotten, and instantly her husband started up.
“Unhappy woman!” cried he, “what hast thou done? But three days more and I should have been free of this vile spell, but now who knows how long I may have to carry this vile bestial skin! And know, moreover, that thy hand can never touch me again till thou hast worn out three pairs of iron sandals, and worn down three staves of steel, seeking me all over the wide world, for now I must depart.”
And with these words he disappeared.
The poor daughter of the Emperor, when she found herself all alone, began to cry and sob as if her heart would break. She cursed the vile witch with fire and sword, but all in vain, and when at last she saw that all her cursing and moaning did no good, she got up and went whithersoever the mercy of God and the desire of her husband might lead her.
At the first city she arrived at she bade them make her three pairs of iron sandals and three staves of steel, made provision for her journey, and set off to seek her husband.
She went on and on, past nine kingdoms and nine seas, she passed through vast forests where the treestumps were like barrels, she got black and blue from stumbling over the trunks of fallen trees, yet often as she fell, she always got up again and resumed her way; the branches of the trees struck her in the face, the briars tore her hands, yet on and on she went without so much as looking back once. At last, weary with her journey and her burden, bowed down with grief and yet with hope in her heart, she came to a little house. And who should be living there but the Holy Moon.
The damsel knocked at the door and begged them to let her come in and rest a little, especially as she was about to become a mother.