Anemone felt bolder than ever, for was not the wall between them? “Yes, please,” she said.
Then the Sorcerer began to sing; and his voice was like liquid gold. It made one think of all the most beautiful things in the world: of the dawn in the sky, of great birds with white wings, of rushing waters, of prancing horses and waving plumes, of the deep velvet sky with its armies of stars.
“Oh, how lovely! How wonderful!” cried the Princesses. “Oh, sir! where did you learn those songs?”
The Sorcerer smiled. “It is this little guitar,” he said, holding it up. “It is bewitched. One has only to strike the strings and the song comes out of it. Your ladyships think, no doubt, that it is I who sing, but I have only to open my mouth and the guitar does all the rest.”
Now this was a lie, for the Sorcerer’s two sons made all the songs; they were very clever young men.
“Sing one more; please sing one more!” cried the Princesses.
“Very well,” replied he, “one more, but that must be the last. Here is one which I hope you will like. It is called ‘The Peach Trees in the Valley.’ ”