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 “My child! My dear child!” the prince cried, taking Linka in his arms and kissing her tenderly.

The two elder sisters jeered and ha-ha-ed.

“Little sister-in-law of the Devil!” they said mockingly. “Now if you were to marry Prince Lucifer himself that would be something, for at least you would be a princess! But only to be his sister-in-law—ha! ha!—what does that amount to?”

And they laughed with amusement and made nasty evil jokes until poor little Linka had to put her hands to her ears not to hear them.

The next day Peter came to the castle. The older sisters when they saw how black he was were glad enough they had refused to marry him. As for Linka, the moment she looked at him she fainted dead away.

When she revived the prince led her over to Peter and gave Peter her hand. She was trembling violently and her hand was cold as marble.

“Don’t be afraid, little princess,” Peter whispered to her gently. “I know how awful I look. But perhaps I won’t always be so ugly. I promise you, if you marry me, I shall always love you dearly.”

Linka was greatly comforted by the sound of his pleasant voice, but each time she looked at him she was terrified anew.