“Then he need not play it,” replied he.
“And I don’t want him,” continued Laurine.
“It is both or neither,” said the Goblin.
“Oh, very well, then,” said she, turning away. “He can come as my servant.”
So she went to the King the very next day, and the King, seeing an excellent chance of getting rid of the prisoners without the expenses of an execution, consented.
So the Lord Mayor gave the Goblin back his fiddle, and the three set out on their travels together.
“Uncle Sackbut tells me that you object to the drum,” said Swayn to Laurine, “so I’ll leave it behind, and I shall have all the more time to attend upon you.”
Certainly he made a most valuable servant. He cleaned her little gold shoes, he robbed all the jasmine-bushes to make her girdles, and when anyone annoyed her, he looked so big and fierce that people were only too glad to get out of the way.
They travelled about for a whole year, and Laurine was beginning to be tired of such a restless life. When they came to a grim-looking town built on a rushing river, she made up her mind to dance there for the last time; for the Goblin had begged her to return with him to his house in the wood, and she had promised to do so. Swayn was to come too, for there was no doubt that it was impossible to get on without him.
“Patience,” said the Goblin to him, “and all will come right.”