kward spring she laughed at his fruitless exertions. She then
took a short run with little steps, and, floating as easily in the air
as if she were borne on wings, plucked the figs, and then was wafted
down as softly on the other side.
"See," said she to him, holding out the figs, "here they are; now we
will eat them together. We have earned them with one spring."
Jussuf declined them. "They all belong to thee," said he; "for thou
alone didst pick them. I could not reach."
"Do you wish to make me angry?" said she. "Hast thou not tired thyself
more than I?--there, take and eat." She forced him, by her friendly
manner, to eat half the figs; while she pressed the other to her lips,
sucked a little of its juice, and then threw it away. "I did that,"
said she, clapping her hands, "that thou mightest not soon forget me:
now thou must think of me for some time."
Immediately she began a new game with him, and after a short time
another, and so on, continually changing the sport. The serious Jussuf
jumped, and hopped, and danced just as she wished, and tried to
perform all the tricks she invented, as if he were a boy. At last they
came to a fish-pond which was in the garden. She jumped into the boat,
which was standing all ready, and rowed with ease into the middle of
the little lake. Then she stopped and called to him,
"Come here, my true playfellow, come to me."
Jussuf stood on the bank, and would have willingly walked to her
through the water; but he knew that it was too deep, and he could not
swim.
"Art thou not coming?" said she; "art thou afraid of the water?"
"I cannot swim," answered he.
"Well, that is no consequence," she called out; "do as I do." And at
these words she sprang lightly out of the boat, and walked over the
surface of the waves as if on dry land; the water did not even moisten
the sole of her sandal.
"Oh that I could!" exclaimed Jussuf. "But I am too heavy; I should
sink at once."
The maiden had in the meantime sprung back into the boat, and called
out, "If thou wilt not come to me, I will never come again to thee;
nor will I now stay any longer with thee. Evening is drawing near. For
the future, then, thou mayest sit alone and grow ill tempered; and if
thou ever wishest to see thy playmate again, thou mayest seek her in
the native country of the variegated butterfly, which thou believedst
thou hadst caught to-day, but which has flown away. Recollect, and
come before I have counted
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