aves! Some time, so my
poor heart tells me, you will bear me to my beloved brothers!"

Eleven white swans' feathers were lying on the sea-weed; she picked
them up and made a bunch of them. There were still drops of water on
them. Whether these were dew or tears no one could tell. It was very
lonely there by the shore, but she did not feel it, for the sea was
ever changing. There were more changes on it in the course of a few
hours than could be seen on an inland fresh-water lake in a year. If a
big black cloud arose it was just as if the sea wanted to say, "I can
look black too," and then the wind blew up and the waves showed their
white crests. But if the clouds were red and the wind dropped, the sea
looked like a rose-leaf, now white, now green. But, however still it
was, there was always a little gentle motion just by the shore; the
water rose and fell softly, like the bosom of a sleeping child.

When the sun was just about to go down, Elise saw eleven wild swans
with golden crowns upon their heads flying towards the shore. They
flew in a swaying line, one behind the other, like a white ribbon
streamer. Elise climbed up onto the bank and hid behind a bush; the
swans settled close by her and flapped their great white wings.

As soon as the sun had sunk beneath the water the swans shed their
feathers and became eleven handsome princes; they were Elise's
brothers. Although they had altered a good deal, she knew them at
once; she felt that they must be her brothers, and she sprang into
their arms, calling them by name. They were delighted when they
recognized their little sister who had grown so big and beautiful.
They laughed and cried, and told each other how wickedly their
stepmother had treated them all.

"We brothers," said the eldest, "have to fly about in the guise of
swans, as long as the sun is above the horizon. When it goes down we
regain our human shapes. So we always have to look out for a
resting-place near sunset, for should we happen to be flying up among
the clouds when the sun goes down we should be hurled to the depths
below. We do not live here; there is another land, just as beautiful
as this, beyond the sea; but the way to it is very long, and we have
to cross the mighty ocean to get to it. There is not a single island
on the way where we can spend the night; only one solitary little rock
juts up above the water midway. It is only just big enough for us to
stand upon close together, and if there