her his bride, but the
archbishop shook his head and whispered that the fair young maiden was
only a witch, who had blinded the king's eyes and ensnared his heart.
The king would not listen to him, however, and ordered the music to
sound, the daintiest dishes to be served, and the loveliest maidens to
dance before them.

Afterwards he led her through fragrant gardens and lofty halls, but not
a smile appeared on her lips or sparkled in her eyes. She looked the
very picture of grief. Then the king opened the door of a little chamber
in which she was to sleep. It was adorned with rich green tapestry and
resembled the cave in which he had found her. On the floor lay the
bundle of flax which she had spun from the nettles, and under the
ceiling hung the coat she had made. These things had been brought away
from the cave as curiosities, by one of the huntsmen.

"Here you can dream yourself back again in the old home in the cave,"
said the king; "here is the work with which you employed yourself. It
will amuse you now, in the midst of all this splendor, to think of that
time."

When Eliza saw all these things which lay so near her heart, a smile
played around her mouth, and the crimson blood rushed to her cheeks. The
thought of her brothers and their release made her so joyful that she
kissed the king's hand. Then he pressed her to his heart.

Very soon the joyous church bells announced the marriage feast; the
beautiful dumb girl of the woods was to be made queen of the country. A
single word would cost her brothers their lives, but she loved the kind,
handsome king, who did everything to make her happy, more and more each
day; she loved him with her whole heart, and her eyes beamed with the
love she dared not speak. Oh! if she could only confide in him and tell
him of her grief. But dumb she must remain till her task was finished.

Therefore at night she crept away into her little chamber which had been
decked out to look like the cave and quickly wove one coat after
another. But when she began the seventh, she found she had no more flax.
She knew that the nettles she wanted to use grew in the churchyard and
that she must pluck them herself. How should she get out there? "Oh,
what is the pain in my fingers to the torment which my heart endures?"
thought she. "I must venture; I shall not be denied help from heaven."

Then with a trembling heart, as if she were about to perform a wicked
deed, Eliza crept into the garden i