of green boughs, and stacks of firewood. These guided her
forward; until she came forth at last upon the clearing whence the smoke
arose. A hut stood in the clear shadow, hard by a brook which made a
series of inconsiderable falls; and on the threshold the Princess saw a
sun-burnt and hard-featured woodman, standing with his hands behind his
back and gazing skyward.

She went to him directly: a beautiful, bright-eyed, and haggard vision;
splendidly arrayed and pitifully tattered; the diamond ear-drops still
glittering in her ears; and with the movement of her coming, one small
breast showing and hiding among the ragged covert of the laces. At that
ambiguous hour, and coming as she did from the great silence of the
forest, the man drew back from the Princess as from something elfin.

'I am cold,' she said, 'and weary. Let me rest beside your fire.'

The woodman was visibly commoved, but answered nothing.

'I will pay,' she said, and then repented of the words, catching perhaps
a spark of terror from his frightened eyes. But, as usual, her courage
rekindled brighter for the check. She put him from the door and entered;
and he followed her in superstitious wonder.

Within, the hut was rough and dark; but on the stone that served as
hearth, twigs and a few dry branches burned with the brisk sounds and all
the variable beauty of fire. The very sight of it composed her; she
crouched hard by on the earth floor and shivered in the glow, and looked
upon the eating blaze with admiration. The woodman was still staring at
his guest: at the wreck of the rich dress, the bare arms, the bedraggled
laces and the gems. He found no word to utter.

'Give me food,' said she,--'here, by the fire.'

He set down a pitcher of coarse wine, bread, a piece of cheese, and a
handful of raw onions. The bread was hard and sour, the cheese like
leather; even the onion, which ranks with the truffle and the nectarine
in the chief place of honour of earth's fruits, is not perhaps a dish for
princesses when raw. But she ate, if not with appetite, with courage;
and when she had eaten, did not disdain the pitcher. In all her life
before, she had not tasted of gross food nor drunk after another; but a
brave woman far more readily accepts a change of circumstances than the
bravest man. All that while, the woodman continued to observe her
furtively, many low thoughts of fear and greed contending in his eyes.
She read them clearly, and she kn