'The strangest figure of all was cut by the old snake who pirouetted on the end of his tail at the greatest speed, in which weird performance he was soon joined by his wife. The eagle extended his wings and waltzed with the elephant; the lion and tiger spun round, holding each other by the paw, so quickly that it was almost impossible to see them; the old turtle rolled over on the back of its shell and span like a teetotum, with the silly monkeys linking hands and in one wide ring skipping around it; in fact, all got up and jumped and lumped and sprawled about in the most ridiculous fashion until they were quite out of breath. Nevertheless, Orpheus would not let them rest, but marched off playing the most exciting music, and all the infatuated creatures, quite forgetful of their banquet, followed him through the wood. Strange enough, in all conscience, was this, but how much stranger by far was it when the very stones of the ruin leapt up, and rolling over and over, also followed in this odd procession as it tramped and crashed through the trees.
'From where I was seated on the dish I could hear the sounds of the music gradually fading away, as the musician led the noisy crew further and further
off; the crash of the falling branches and the crackle of the breaking underwood died down in the distance and I knew that I was saved.
'The little gnome led the bewitched creatures such a dance through the wood that one by one they fell down in a state of collapse, and when the last was quite overcome, the faithful fellow returned to the temple and carried me home.
'Never again did they leave me alone for a single second until I was able to take care of myself, and I spent the years of my boyhood in great happiness with these two simple and kindly souls. Brother Orpheus took no end of pains in teaching me to play the
concertina and, eager to learn, I soon became proficient. But, dear lads, clever as you know me to be, never could I even approach the skill of my good and patient master.
'In the course of time the old witch had to die, and the grief of her little foster son was so great at his loss that, try as I would, I could not in any way lighten it. One day soon after I missed the little man, and he never returned again. All that he left behind him for me to remember him by was his old concertina.
'I waited by the tree for many a long day, still thinking that he would return, until I was compelled at last to abandon all hope of ever seeing him again. I wandered out into the world with no other wealth than my concertina, but how often since have I had to bless the memory of my little friend who thus endowed me with the means of subsistence, and, at the same time, with a protection against all manner of evil.'
