The unicorn stamped and gave a piercing neigh
As he saw me, he stamped his hoof and threw his head high. I started for the cliff; he made for the same point, as if to intercept me. I knew that against that sharp horn I should be helpless; it was now a matter of life and death. I ran with all my might; the unicorn came on at a gallop; we approached the foot of the cliff together; his head was down, and I could already in imagination feel his horn in my side; I doubled my exertions; I reached the cliff, and leaped up on the rocks just out of his reach, as he swept by me; I was safe.
I clung to my perch panting, and then painfully climbed to the circle of white stones. There, in its center, was the blood-red flower. The unicorn was standing below, watching me. When he saw me bend toward the flower, he stamped, shook his mane, and gave a long piercing neigh, as a horse will when he is in pain. I plucked the flower at the root. The unicorn’s excitement was extraordinary. He pranced and bounded, shrieking in a manner almost human. I shivered at the thought of going down to him, but it had to be done. I descended carefully, holding the flower out in the unicorn’s view. His shrieks subsided into a moaning cry. He shook his head up and down, as if under some strong command. I reached the ground.
I paused there for a moment, for I confess I was desperately afraid. Little by little I advanced to him, holding out the flower. He pranced and whined. I came within arm’s length of his head, and held the flower before his mouth. With a quiver which shook his whole body, he seized it in his teeth. I quickly ran to his tail, and searched there for the single black hair, keeping well away from his heels. Covered by the brush of white hair I found it. I seized it and gave it a mighty jerk. Out it came into my hand.
The unicorn trembled and tottered; and there in his place before my eyes stood a handsome young man, clad in a suit of soft and exquisite white leather. He fell on his knees before me and kissed my hand.
“Thanks, brave deliverer!” he cried. “The enchantment is broken! I am myself again! How glorious to be free!”
I raised him from the ground, and led him to a convenient place, where we sat down and conversed. I placed the precious black hair securely in the lining of my vest. If I on my part was overjoyed, the young man was positively beside himself. He laughed and cried by turns. I was of course intensely curious as to the circumstances of his enchantment. He willingly consented to relate them to me, and as soon as he had composed himself a little he began
THE STORY OF THE WHITE UNICORN
“I was born,” said the young man, “in the Island Kingdom, far out in the Great Sea, the only son of a rich—”