Part 15

It required several words and a great many kisses to convince the princess of the absurdity of this idea; but at last she continued:--

“We daughters of the royal house have a privilege not shared by any other of the maidens of the sea. On the night we are sixteen (our birthdays always come in the full moon), if we can by any means persuade a mortal maiden to leap into the sea, and catch her in our arms as she falls, we are able to change conditions with her,--she becoming a mer-maiden, and we a child of earth. This is possible, but rarely attempted by us; partly because we love our own natures so well we do not care to change, and partly from the difficulty of inducing any earthly maiden to make the exchange. Sometimes, however, one of us has done it; my eldest sister did. She ascended to the upper waters on her birth-night, and found herself near a ship moving slowly through the sea; floating quietly about it she perceived a beautiful girl leaning over the side, and looking sadly into the water. My sister, who had a harp like mine, began to play and sing softly, and the maiden, fixing her eyes upon the spot where my sister’s hair, floating behind her, looked like what the sailors call a moon-glade, drooped lower and lower over the side of the vessel, until Neria, holding out her arms, the maiden sunk into them, and in the next moment floated away a mer-maiden, while my sister clambered into the ship and took her place.”

“But did they look alike?” asked Ernest.

“Oh, the two change faces as well as forms, you understand.”

“But then you would not be my Sulemair any more,” said Ernest, discontentedly.

“Foolish boy, you will find some one so much more beautiful to take my place, that you will be glad to make the change,” said the princess, laughing merrily.

“I shall find, little Susu? What does that mean?” asked the lover.

“Why, my plan is, that you shall return immediately to the earth, and spend the time from now to my birthday, which will not be for ten more full moons, in trying to find a maiden (a beautiful one, mind--I won’t change with an ugly one), who will leap into the sea of her own freewill. I don’t think it right to charm one, as Neria did, although I dare say I could”--

“As you charmed me,” suggested Ernest.

“No, I didn’t charm you, I only sung to you,” replied Sulemair innocently.

“All the same; but go on with your little plan, darling.”

“Well, if you can find one who will change with me willingly, bring her to a place which I will show you, the night of the tenth full moon from that now shining; let her leap into my arms, and the next moment you will have me, a mortal maiden, ready to live and die with you in your own way.”

“Let me set out immediately,” exclaimed Ernest, starting up, “I shall find not one, but twenty maidens, with whom to purchase my Sulemair’s life.”

“Not twenty, but one will be enough,” smiled the princess, as, winding her arms about Ernest, she floated with him to the surface of the ocean, directing her course obliquely, as if to reach some particular point. Emerging at length, they found themselves near the shore, and directly opposite a high cliff of peculiar shape, which overhung the water like a petrified cataract.

“There, Ernest,” said the princess, pointing at the cliff, “you see that--we call it ‘the frozen fall’--now if you can find a maiden willing to exchange with me, bring her there, and let her leap, just as the moon reaches the summit of the heavens, into my arms, which shall be open to catch her. Farewell till then.”

And Sulemair, with a little laugh and a playful gesture, sunk beneath the surface and was gone immediately. Ernest would have followed, to assure her once more that he would certainly return; but to his surprise he found the water, which had so long been like a native element to him, had suddenly become a foreign one, and he was obliged to swim vigorously to gain the shore, which, while he was floating with Sulemair, had seemed so near and easy of access.

Once landed, Ernest immediately set out upon his strange search. He travelled far and wide, and tried to persuade many beautiful maidens to change their earthly condition for a life beneath the sea. But some laughed in his face, some told him he was a madman who should be shut up, some shuddered, and said they were frightened at the very idea, and some tried to persuade him to stay with them instead.

So one month after another slipped away, until the tenth moon had grown from a crescent to half its full size, and still the maiden was not found.

Gloomy and despairing, Ernest had almost abandoned hope; and one day finding himself in a thick wood just outside a great city, he threw himself upon the ground, and covering his face with his hands, began to lament and groan aloud; but after a while, his grief becoming a little calmer, he lay quite still and quiet; to his great surprise, however, the sounds of lamentation still echoed through the stillness of the wood, as if the very trees were mourning with him. Thinking that this could hardly be the case, Ernest looked about him in every direction, and presently perceived at a little distance a female figure seated upon the ground, her face covered with her hands, and her whole form shaken with the violence of her grief.

Full of compassion and some little curiosity, Ernest arose, and approaching the stranger, asked kindly what was the matter with her. Looking up, with a little startled cry, the mourner showed the face of a young girl, with so striking resemblance to Sulemair, that the lover uttered an exclamation of astonishment; but without heeding this, the young girl said sadly,--

“You ask what is the matter, sir, that I thus weep and lament. I will tell you; for you look kind and good. My father, whom they call a traitor, though no man is less so, is to be beheaded at sunrise to-morrow, and I shall be left alone in the wide world.” Saying this, she burst into fresh tears and sobs. Ernest sat down beside her, and when her grief had a little subsided, told her how sorry he felt for her, and that if he could in any way help her or her father, he would do so. Then he told her his own story, and asked if she could help him.

Veria (this was the maiden’s name) listened attentively to Ernest’s story, and when he had finished, sat for a moment thinking. Then, holding out her hand to the youth, she said,--

“I will be the maiden for whom you search, Ernest, if you will find means to save my father’s life. Gladly will I give mine for his; and if I can make you and Sulemair happy at the same time, it will be so much the more joy. Will you try, Ernest?”

“I will try, Veria,” said the young man, sadly; for he did not quite like the idea, after all, of seeing Veria throw herself into the sea, and become a mer-maiden.

Nevertheless, he rose, and walked quickly toward the city, leaving the maiden still weeping in the wood.

Having engaged a lodging at a small inn near the city gate, Ernest mingled with a group of men at the door of the inn, who were busily talking in a low voice, and who did not notice that a stranger had joined them.

“But what will they do for an executioner to-morrow,” said one, “since Vincent cannot be found?”

“Do you suppose some of Hugo’s friends hired him to run away, that the execution might be deferred?” asked another.