“My dear friends,” cried Quicksilver, with the liveliest look of mischief in his eyes, “where is this village that you talk about? On which side of us does it lie?”
Philemon and his wife turned towards the valley, where at sunset, only the day before, they had seen the meadows, the houses, the gardens, the street, the children playing in it. But what was their astonishment! There was no longer any appearance of a village! Even the fertile valley in the hollow of which it lay had ceased to have existence. In its stead they beheld the broad blue surface of a lake which filled the great basin of the valley from brim to brim.
“Alas!” cried these kind-hearted old people, “what has become of our poor neighbors?”
“They exist no longer as men and women,” said the elder traveller, in his grand and deep voice, while a roll of thunder seemed to echo it in the distance. “There was neither use nor beauty in such a life as theirs; therefore the lake that was of old has spread itself forth again to reflect the sky.
“As for you, good Philemon,” continued the elder traveller,—“and you, kind Baucis,—you, with your scanty means, have done well, my dear old friends. Request whatever favor you have most at heart, and it is granted.” Philemon and Baucis looked at one another, and then one uttered the desire of both their hearts.
“Let us live together while we live, and leave the world at the same instant when we die!”
“Be it so!” replied the stranger, with majestic kindness. “Now look towards your cottage.”
They did so. What was their surprise on beholding a tall edifice of white marble on the spot where their humble residence had stood.
“There is your home,” said the stranger, smiling on them both. “Show your kindness in yonder palace as freely as in the poor hovel to which you welcomed us last evening.”
The astonished old people fell on their knees to thank him; but, behold! neither he nor Quicksilver was there.