ed up the long aisle of the
church. "Our master first," said the cake-couple, and made room for
Joanna and Knud, who knelt by the altar, and she bent her head over
him, and tears fell from her eyes, but they were icy cold, for it was
the ice around her heart that was melting--melting by his strong love;
and the tears fell upon his burning cheeks, and he awoke, and was
sitting under the old willow tree in the strange land, in the cold
wintry evening: an icy hail was falling from the clouds and beating on
his face.

[Illustration: KNUD AT REST--UNDER THE WILLOW TREE.]

"That was the most delicious hour of my life!" he said, "and it was
but a dream. Oh, let me dream again!" And he closed his eyes once
more, and slept and dreamed.

Towards morning there was a great fall of snow. The wind drifted the
snow over him, but he slept on. The villagers came forth to go to
church, and by the road-side sat a journeyman. He was dead--frozen to
death under the willow tree!

THE BEETLE.

The emperor's favourite horse was shod with gold. It had a golden shoe
on each of its feet.

And why was this?

He was a beautiful creature, with delicate legs, bright intelligent
eyes, and a mane that hung down over his neck like a veil. He had
carried his master through the fire and smoke of battle, and heard the
bullets whistling around him, had kicked, bitten, and taken part in
the fight when the enemy advanced, and had sprung with his master on
his back over the fallen foe, and had saved the crown of red gold, and
the life of the emperor, which was more valuable than the red gold;
and that is why the emperor's horse had golden shoes.

And a beetle came creeping forth.

"First the great ones," said he, "and then the little ones; but
greatness is not the only thing that does it." And so saying, he
stretched out his thin legs.

"And pray what do you want?" asked the smith.

"Golden shoes, to be sure," replied the beetle.

"Why, you must be out of your senses," cried the smith. "Do you want
to have golden shoes too?"

"Golden shoes? certainly," replied the beetle. "Am I not just as good
as that big creature yonder, that is waited on, and brushed, and has
meat and drink put before him? Don't I belong to the imperial stable?"

"But _why_ is the horse to have golden shoes? Don't you understand
that?" asked the smith.

"Understand? I understand that it is a personal slight offered to
myself," cried the beetle. "It is done to an