t she might
have somebody to guard the bridge. She sent all the fairies into the
garden, telling them not to come back to the court till she was happy
once more, then gave orders that the flowers should henceforth cease
to smell so sweet that every human being would carry them away, the
winds wail so piteously that no mortal could help weeping to hear
them, the springs send forth bitter waters, and the sun daily cast
seven times seven cold rays into the world. After saying all these
things, she went to the great wheel on which the threads of human life
are wound, stopped it, so that it could no longer turn, and human
existence became changeless. Then the Fairy Aurora hid herself from
the world in the darkest and dreariest corner of her whole palace.

The big and little dragons and the giants went out into the wide world
and hid themselves for very shame in the most secluded caves and
deserts, so that they could no longer be seen by any human eye; the
lions shook the gold from their manes, the iron from their teeth and
paws, and became furious with rage; the fairies concealed themselves
in the garden; the flowers, springs, and winds obeyed the Fairy
Aurora's will; and the cold rays of the sun, lacking both warmth and
light, can still be seen in the sky on summer nights. Human life was
at a stand, time ceased to move. Two lions, two big and two little
dragons, and two giants mounted guard at the bridge. How long the
Fairy Aurora's kingdom remained in this state is not known and can not
be told. Much time passed without moving.

Holy Friday, too, at last noticed that the Fairy Aurora was angry; the
scanty sunbeams, and the whirlwinds which shook the whole world, had
brought her the tidings. She was half angry, half pleased,--angry
because she could no longer see around her, and pleased because her
brave, handsome prince had escaped and her beautiful neighbor was
sorrowful. She was provoked, too, because her jug with the wonderful
water was broken. But when Holy Friday saw that the darkness did not
lessen, the light did not return, and even the very last sunbeam
vanished from the earth, she realized that the Fairy Aurora was not
jesting, and she ordered the whirlwinds to set out together and remove
the great veil on the frontiers of the empire, that light might enter
the world. The winds departed, each one more furious, more fierce,
more terrible than the other--as whirlwinds usually are. It seemed as
if they were taking