before him, and had stuck an enchanted stick called 'the spike of
hurt' in a crack of the door, so that he would brush against it as he
stepped across the threshold. Suddenly he felt so sleepy that he could
not stand up, and throwing himself on the ground he sank into a deep
slumber, not knowing that the dark lad was watching him. Nothing could
waken him, not even the sound of sweetest music, nor the touch of a lady
who bent over him. A sad look came on her face, as she saw it was no
use, and at last she gave it up, and lifting his arm, wrote her name
across the side--'the daughter of the king of the town under the
waves.'

'I will come to-morrow,' she whispered, though he could not hear her,
and she went sorrowfully away.

Then he awoke, and the dark lad told him what had befallen him, and he
was very grieved. But the dark lad did not tell him of the name that was
written underneath his arm.

On the following morning the fisher's son again went to the church,
determined that he would not go to sleep, whatever happened. But in his
hurry to enter he touched with his hand the spike of hurt, and sank down
where he stood, wrapped in slumber. A second time the air was filled
with music, and the lady came in, stepping softly, but though she laid
his head on her knee, and combed his hair with a golden comb, his eyes
opened not. Then she burst into tears, and placing a beautifully wrought
box in his pocket she went her way.

The next day the same thing befell the fisher's son, and this time
the lady wept more bitterly than before, for she said it was the last
chance, and she would never be allowed to come any more, for home she
must go.

As soon as the lady had departed the fisher's son awoke, and the dark
lad told him of her visit, and how he would never see her as long as he
lived. At this the fisher's son felt the cold creeping up to his heart,
yet he knew the fault had not been his that sleep had overtaken him.

'I will search the whole world through till I find her,' cried he, and
the dark lad laughed as he heard him. But the fisher's son took no heed,
and off he went, following the sun day after day, till his shoes were in
holes and his feet were sore from the journey. Nought did he see but
the birds that made their nests in the trees, not so much as a goat or
a rabbit. On and on and on he went, till suddenly he came upon a little
house, with a woman standing outside it.

'All hail, fisher's son!' said she. 'I kn