n the broad moonlight, and passed
through the narrow walks and the deserted streets till she reached the
churchyard. She prayed silently, gathered the burning nettles, and
carried them home with her to the castle.

One person only had seen her, and that was the archbishop--he was awake
while others slept. Now he felt sure that his suspicions were correct;
all was not right with the queen; she was a witch and had bewitched the
king and all the people. Secretly he told the king what he had seen and
what he feared, and as the hard words came from his tongue, the carved
images of the saints shook their heads as if they would say, "It is not
so; Eliza is innocent."

But the archbishop interpreted it in another way; he believed that they
witnessed against her and were shaking their heads at her wickedness.
Two tears rolled down the king's cheeks. He went home with doubt in his
heart, and at night pretended to sleep. But no real sleep came to his
eyes, for every night he saw Eliza get up and disappear from her
chamber. Day by day his brow became darker, and Eliza saw it, and
although she did not understand the reason, it alarmed her and made her
heart tremble for her brothers. Her hot tears glittered like pearls on
the regal velvet and diamonds, while all who saw her were wishing they
could be queen.

In the meantime she had almost finished her task; only one of her
brothers' coats was wanting, but she had no flax left and not a single
nettle. Once more only, and for the last time, must she venture to the
churchyard and pluck a few handfuls. She went, and the king and the
archbishop followed her. The king turned away his head and said, "The
people must condemn her." Quickly she was condemned to suffer death by
fire.

Away from the gorgeous regal halls she was led to a dark, dreary cell,
where the wind whistled through the iron bars. Instead of the velvet and
silk dresses, they gave her the ten coats which she had woven, to cover
her, and the bundle of nettles for a pillow. But they could have given
her nothing that would have pleased her more. She continued her task
with joy and prayed for help, while the street boys sang jeering songs
about her and not a soul comforted her with a kind word.

Toward evening she heard at the grating the flutter of a swan's wing; it
was her youngest brother. He had found his sister, and she sobbed for
joy, although she knew that probably this was the last night she had to
live. Still, she