what he had seen and what he
feared. When those bad words passed his lips the pictures of the
saints shook their heads as if to say: It is not so; Elise is
innocent. The archbishop, however, took it differently, and thought
that they were bearing witness against her, and shaking their heads at
her sin. Two big tears rolled down the king's cheeks, and he went home
with doubt in his heart. He pretended to sleep at night, but no quiet
sleep came to his eyes. He perceived how Elise got up and went to her
private closet. Day by day his face grew darker; Elise saw it, but
could not imagine what was the cause of it. It alarmed her, and what
was she not already suffering in her heart because of her brothers?
Her salt tears ran down upon the royal purple velvet, they lay upon
it like sparkling diamonds, and all who saw their splendor wished to
be queen.

She had, however, almost reached the end of her labors, only one shirt
of mail was wanting; but again she had no more flax, and not a single
nettle was left. Once more, for the last time, she must go to the
church-yard to pluck a few handfuls. She thought with dread of the
solitary walk and the horrible ghouls, but her will was as strong as
her trust in God.

Elise went, but the king and the archbishop followed her; they saw her
disappear within the grated gateway of the church-yard. When they
followed they saw the ghouls sitting on the gravestone as Elise had
see them before; and the king turned away his head because he thought
she was among them--she, whose head this very evening had rested on
his breast.

"The people must judge her," he groaned, and the people judged. "Let
her be consumed in the glowing flames!"

She was led away from her beautiful royal apartments to a dark, damp
dungeon, where the wind whistled through the grated window. Instead of
velvet and silk, they gave her the bundle of nettles she had gathered
to lay her head upon. The hard, burning shirts of mail were to be her
covering, but they could have given her nothing more precious.

She set to work again, with many prayers to God. Outside her prison
the street boys sang derisive songs about her, and not a soul
comforted her with a kind word.

Towards evening she heard the rustle of swans' wings close to her
window; it was her youngest brother; at last he had found her. He
sobbed aloud with joy, although he knew that the coming night might be
her last; but then her work was almost done, and her brothe