his wife.

In the course of time the Countess presented him with a daughter.
Scarcely had Hermann received intelligence of this event before a very
diminutive old crone entered the apartment and informed him that the
elfin bride, whom he had seen in the miniature procession on the night
of his nuptials, had given birth to a daughter. Hermann was very
friendly to the visitor, wished all happiness to the mother and child,
and the old woman took her departure. The Count did not, however,
mention this visit to his wife.

A year afterwards, on the approach of her second confinement, the
Countess saw the elves on the occasion of her husband receiving
another of their unexpected visits. The little people entered the
chamber in a long procession in black dresses, carrying lights in
their hands, and the little women were clothed in white. One of these
stood before the Count holding up her apron, while an old man thus
addressed her--

"No more, dear Hermann, can we find a resting-place in your castle. We
must wander abroad. We are come to take our departure from you."

"Wherefore will you leave my castle?" inquired Hermann. "Have I
offended you?"

"No, thou hast not; but we must go, for she whom you saw as a bride on
your wedding-night lost, last evening, her life in giving birth to an
heir, who likewise perished. As a proof that we are thankful for the
kindness you have always shown us, take a trifling proof of our
power."

When the old man had thus spoken, he placed a little ladder against
the bed, which the old woman who had stood by ascended. Then she
opened her apron, held it before Hermann, and said--

"Grasp and take."

He hesitated. She repeated what she had said. At last he did what she
told him, took out of her apron what he supposed to be a handful of
sand, and laid it in a basin which stood upon a table by his bedside.
The little woman desired him to take another handful, and he did once
more as she bade him. Thereupon the woman descended the ladder; and
the procession, weeping and lamenting, departed from the chamber.

When day broke, Hermann saw that the supposed sand which he had taken
from the apron of the little woman was nothing less than pure and
beautiful grains of gold.

But what happened? On that very day he lost his Countess in
childbirth, and his new-born son. Hermann mourned her loss so bitterly
that he was very soon laid beside her in the grave. With him perished
the house of Rosenberg.