ied his attention, and soon reached the place where
he had first perceived her, under the oak. It now seemed to him as if
what he saw was more of a shadow than a reality. He stood astounded,
and a cold shuddering came over him; but he heard a soft voice, which
whispered to him these words: "Come hither, dear stranger, and be not
afraid; I am no deceptive form, no delusive shadow; I am the elf of
this grove, the dweller in the oak, under the thick-leaved boughs of
which thou hast often slumbered; I lulled thee to sweet delightful
repose, foretold to thee what would befall thee, and if a mare or a
colt of thy herd had strayed, I told thee of the place where it was to
be found. Repay this favour by another service which I require of
thee. Be the protector of this tree, which has so often protected thee
against sun and rain, and prevent the murderous axe of thy brothers,
who are destroying the woods, from injuring this venerable trunk."

The young warrior, whose courage revived at this soft discourse,
answered thus: "Goddess or mortal, whichever thou art, ask of me
whatever thou pleasest, and if I can I will accomplish it. But I am
only a humble man among my people, the servant of my lord the duke. If
he says to me to-day or to-morrow, 'feed your horses here, feed them
there,' how shall I be able to protect thy tree in this remote wood?
But if thou commandest it I will leave the service of my prince, dwell
in the shadow of thine oak, and protect it as long as my life lasts."
"Do so," said the elf, "and thou wilt not repent of it." Upon this she
vanished, and there was a rustling in the tree above, as if some loud
evening breeze had caught itself there, and was moving the leaves.
Crocus stood for awhile quite enchanted at the heavenly apparition
which had appeared to him. Such a delicate, truly feminine creature,
of such a slender form, and of such noble appearance he had never seen
among the stunted Slavonic girls. At last he stretched him upon the
soft moss, although sleep did not close his eyes; morning twilight
surprised him in a tumult of delicious sensations, which were to him as
strange and novel as the first beam of light to the newly opened eyes
of one who has been born blind. At the break of day he hastened to the
duke's palace, asked for his dismissal, packed up his baggage, and
hastily started with his head filled with glowing fantasies and his
burden on his back, for his delightful retreat in the forest