ne fellows, what a
charming bride you have brought me!'

'She is not for you, said the young men. 'She is for our youngest
brother, as we promised.'

'What!' said the old man, 'promised! I'll make you eat your promises!'
And with that he took his magic wand, and, murmuring a charm, he touched
both brothers and brides, and immediately they were turned into grey
stones.

Only the youngest sister he had not bewitched. He took her into the
cottage, and from that time she was obliged to keep house for him. She
was not very unhappy, but one thought troubled her. What if the old man
should die and leave her here alone in the solitary cottage deep in the
heart of the wood! She would be as 'terribly lonely' as he had formerly
been.

One day she told him of her fear.

'Don't be anxious,' he said. 'You need neither fear my death nor desire
it, for I have no heart in my breast! However, if I should die, you will
find my wand above the door, and with it you can set free your sisters
and their lovers. Then you will surely have company enough.'

'Where in all the world do you keep your heart, if not in your breast?'
asked the girl.

'Do you want to know everything?' her husband said. 'Well, if you must
know, my heart is in the bed-cover.'

When the old man had gone out about his business his bride passed her
time in embroidering beautiful flowers on the bed quilt to make his
heart happy. The old man was much amused. He laughed, and said to
her: 'You are a good child, but I was only joking. My heart is really
in--in--'

'Now where is it, dear husband?'

'It is in the doorway,' he replied.

Next day, while he was out, the girl decorated the door with gay
feathers and fresh flowers, and hung garlands upon it. And on his return
the old fellow asked what it all meant.

'I did it to show my love for your heart,' said the girl.

And again the old man smiled, saying, 'You are a dear child, but my
heart is not in the doorway.'

Then the poor young bride was very vexed, and said, 'Ah, my dear! you
really have a heart somewhere, so you may die and leave me all alone.'

The old man did his best to comfort her by repeating all he had said
before, but she begged him afresh to tell her truly where his heart was
and at last he told her.

'Far, far from here,' said he, 'in a lonely spot, stands a great church,
as old as old can be. Its doors are of iron, and round it runs a deep
moat, spanned by no bridge. Within that church is