ich had belonged to--to the
Squire. And the voice of her despair spoke through her tears, and he
answered it as best he could with the voice of hope. And went away as
before, leaving the Gorgons dancing.

Then in the autumn the Squire said to the Wanderer, "Who can live on
flowers and rings? If you do not get me my lady herself, let me lie in
my grave." So the Wanderer set sail for the third time, though he knew
that the dangers and difficulties of this last adventure were supreme;
and once more he landed on the island of the Imprisoned Princess. And
this time the Gorgons even appeared a little pleased to see him, and
let him stay with them six days and nights, telling them stories, and
singing them songs, and inventing games to keep them amused. For he was
very sorry for them.

(Joscelyn: Why? Why? Why?

Martin: Because he discovered that they were even unhappier than the
Princess in her tower.

Joscelyn: It isn't true! It isn't true!

Martin: Look out! you're losing your slipper.)

Of course the Gorgons were unhappier than the Princess. She was only
parted from her lover; but they were parted from love itself.

But as the week wore on, miracles happened; for every night one of the
Gorgons turned into the beautiful girl she used to be before the
Goddess of Reason, infuriated with the Irrational God who bestows on
girls their quite unreasonable loveliness, had made her what she was.
And night by night the Wanderer rubbed his eyes and wondered if he had
been dreaming; for the guardians of the tower no longer hissed, but
sighed at love, and instead of claws for the destructions of lovers had
beautiful kind hands that longed to help them. Until on the sixth night
only one remained this fellow's enemy. But alas! she was the strongest
and fiercest of them all.

(Joscelyn: How dare you!)

And her case (said Martin) was hopeless, because she alone of them all
had never known what love was, and so had nothing to be restored to.

(Joscelyn: How DARE you!)

And without her (said Martin) there was nothing to be done. She had
always had the others under her thumb, and by this time she had the
Wanderer in exactly the same place. And so--and so--

And so here is your shoe-string, Mistress Joscelyn; and I am sorry the
want of it has been such an inconvenience to you all day, so that you
could not make merry with us. But I must forfeit it now, for the story
is ended, and I think you must own it is true.