Page:Segnius Irritant or Eight Primitive Folk-lore Stories.pdf/53

 the old grandmother; “but knowest thou what? go once again to the lake and request this lady to let down the silken cord and to draw thee up that thou mayst comb her hair; and when she falls asleep, stab this pin into her head. After this, array thyself in her robes and sit there as queen.”

The gipsy-girl did not require much persuasion. She took the pin, took the water vessel, and returned to the lake. She fills, her vessel and looks round at the beautiful queen. “Ach! how fine thou art, oh! how fine thou art!” she exclaims, and peers maliciously into her eyes. “Hej!” she says, “but you would have been a hundred times more beautiful if you had let me comb your hair; verily, I would so have plaited your majesty’s golden hair that your royal husband would have been enchanted.” And she so bewildered the queen, so bewitched her, that at last she let down the silken cord and drew the gipsy up to her.

The wicked gipsy combs the golden hair, handles and plaits it, until the beautiful queen at last fairly dozes off to sleep. Then the gipsy draws out the pin and thrusts it into the head of the sleeping queen. At that moment a beautiful white dove fluttered down from the golden throne, and of the queen not a trace was left except her beautiful robes, in which the gipsy hastily arrayed herself, seated herself on the spot where the queen had sat before, and looked at herself in the lake; but in the lake no beautiful reflection appeared, for the gipsy, even in royal robes, remained a gipsy still.

The young king happily prevailed over his enemy, and made peace with him. Scarcely had he returned to the city, when he ran to the garden to look for his beloved, in case anything had happened to her. But who can describe his dismay and astonishment when, instead of his beautiful queen, he beheld the wicked gipsy. " “ Ah! my dear, my ever dearest, how changed I find thee!” he sighed deeply, and with streaming eyes. “Changed I am, my beloved, changed I am, for my longing for thee has sapped my strength,” said the gipsy, and tried to fall upon his neck; but the king turned away from her and quitted the garden full of angry sorrow.

From that time he had no rest nor peace, he had neither day nor night, but continually bemoaned the lost beauty of his queen, and nothing could ecomfort him.