he gathered from the conversation between the two spirits that, owing
to an oath which he had given to the fairy, Misdral dared not lay hands
on a Wendelin, and that, therefore, he had planned to starve him (George)
to death. This prospect seemed all the more dreadful to the boy because
of his hunger at that moment.

The cave was lighted by a hole in the roof of rocks, and as George could
cry no more, and had raged enough against himself and the wicked Misdral,
there was nothing further for him to do but to look about his prison, and
examine the stalactites which surrounded him on all sides. One of them
looked like a pulpit, a second like a camel, a third made him laugh, for
it had a face with a bottle-nose, like that of the chief wine cooper at
the castle. On one of the columns he thought he discerned the figure of a
weeping woman, and this made his eyes fill with tears again. But he did
not mean to cry any more, so he turned his attention to the ceiling. Some
of the stalactites that hung from it looked like great icicles, and some
of them looked like damp, grey clothes hung out to dry. This recalled the
appearance of the wash hanging in the garden behind the palace--a long
stocking, or an unusually large shirt descending below the rest of the
clothes--and he remembered how, in the fall, after the harvest, the
clothes-lines used to be tied to the plum-trees, and the ends decorated
with branches still bearing the blue, juicy fruit, and then his hunger
became so ravenous that he buckled his belt tighter round his waist and
groaned aloud.

Night fell. The cave grew dark, and he tried to sleep, but could not,
although the drops of water splashed soothingly, and monotonously from
the roof into the pools below.

The later it grew, the more he was tormented by his hunger, and the
flapping of the bats, which he could not see in the dark. He longed for
it to be morning, and more than once, in his great need, he lifted his
hands and prayed for deliverance, and yet more passionately for a piece
of bread, and the coming of day. Then he sat lost in thought, and bit his
nails, for the sake of having something to chew. He was aroused by a
splash in one of the puddles on the Hoor. It must be a fish! He sat up to
listen, and it seemed as if some one called to him gently. He pricked up
his ears sharply, and then!--no, he had not deceived himself, for the
friendly words came distinctly from below: "George, my poor boy, are you
awake?"