rs were
there.

The archbishop came to spend his last hours with her, as he had
promised the king. She shook her head at him, and by looks and
gestures begged him to leave her. She had only this night in which to
finish her work, or else all would be wasted, all--her pain, tears,
and sleepless nights. The archbishop went away with bitter words
against her, but poor Elise knew that she was innocent, and she went
on with her work.

The little mice ran about the floor bringing nettles to her feet, so
as to give what help they could, and a thrush sat on the grating of
the window where he sang all night as merrily as he could to keep up
her courage.

It was still only dawn and the sun would not rise for an hour when the
eleven brothers stood at the gate of the palace, begging to be taken
to the king. This could not be done was the answer, for it was still
night; the king was asleep, and no one dared wake him. All their
entreaties and threats were useless; the watch turned out, and even
the king himself came to see what was the matter; but just then the
sun rose, and no more brothers were to be seen--only eleven wild swans
hovering over the palace.

The whole populace streamed out of the town gates; they were all
anxious to see the witch burned. A miserable horse drew the cart in
which Elise was seated. They had put upon her a smock of green
sacking, and all her beautiful long hair hung loose from the lovely
head. Her cheeks were deathly pale, and her lips moved softly, while
her fingers unceasingly twisted the green yarn. Even on the way to her
death she could not abandon her unfinished work. Ten shirts lay
completed at her feet; she labored away at the eleventh amid the
scoffing insults of the populace.

"Look at the witch; how she mutters! She has never a book of psalms
in her hands; no, there she sits with her loathsome sorcery. Tear it
away from her into a thousand bits!"

The crowd pressed around her to destroy her work, but just then eleven
white swans flew down and perched upon the cart flapping their wings.
The crowd gave way before them in terror.

"It is a sign from Heaven! She is innocent!" they whispered, but they
dared not say it aloud.

The executioner seized her by the hand. But she hastily threw the
eleven shirts over the swans, who were immediately transformed to
eleven handsome princes; but the youngest had a swan's wing in place
of an arm, for one sleeve was wanting to his shirt of mail; she ha