nd
death the groomsman--ha, ha!"

"Do not be so cruel," said kind little Brigitte, who had blamed the nixy
in the story. "See how pale Hermann looks, he will faint in another
minute; he has never been strong since he was out in that awful storm."

Hermann could bear the conversation no longer; hastily saying good night
he went home with wild thoughts in his head, and, alas! wild,
ungovernable love in his heart.

For the next few weeks on Saturday evenings the same thing happened.
There was the usual social gathering, no one was absent; the little room
could hardly hold the thronging guests. Then there was the eagerly
looked for knock at the door, and the three lovely maidens entered and
shared so naturally in what was going on that the young people gradually
lost somewhat of their awe of them. Who could spin so fast and so finely
as the three strangers; who could sing such entrancing songs; who could
tell more wonderful stories!

Hermann generally managed to sit by Lenore, and to hold her hand, and he
knew his love was returned.

Naturally the exquisite Elfrida, and the stately Clothilde had their
admirers as well.

"Soon they will have taken all our sweethearts away from us, the nasty
creatures," whispered some of the village girls under their breath, "and
they cannot marry all the lads in the country round. The men are
bewitched, that is certain--no good can come of it. Most of the men
realise it, however, and will come back to us in time; all except
Hermann. He is so far gone that it is quite hopeless to try and
influence him."

"I am sorry for Lenore," said little Brigitte, "I would do anything I
could to help her; she looks so _very_ unhappy!"

On the night of the 9th of September the spinning evening was to be at
Hermann's house, which was a splendid building in its way, like a great
wooden castle. He was feverish with excitement. He bought and gathered
all the flowers he could get together, and decked the house as for a
wedding-feast. His mother could not bake cakes that were fine enough to
suit his taste; the furniture seemed to him clumsy and old-fashioned. He
would gladly have strewn rose-leaves, instead of rushes, on the floor
for his lady-love to tread on. All the time a voice was telling him to
desist: that such love could never be hallowed; that his bride was but a
myth, a dream that would vanish away. His mother was terribly troubled
about him, and feared that the boy had lost his wits in the
t