und they wandered among hills and forests,
till hunger almost drove them to despair, when they were compelled to
sustain nature on the berries and wild fruits which they could pluck
from the trees and shrubs, and on the roots which they dug up with the
points of their swords. After living many months on this hard fare a
mulberry-tree, loaded with luscious fruit, appeared before them.

"Ah!" exclaimed Saint Denis, "on this at least we may banquet with some
pleasure;" and filling his casque with the fruit, his example being
imitated by Le Crapeau, they sat themselves down, with their head-pieces
between their legs, to indulge, to their heart's content, in the
unexpected treat.

The Knight, who eat more leisurely than his Squire, had scarcely
finished his portion when he heard a loud bray close to him, and looking
round, instead of his Squire, to his amazement he beheld a
starved-looking donkey standing near him, and poking his nose into Le
Crapeau's now empty casque.

While yet wondering and mechanically finishing his mulberries, he felt a
very uncomfortable sensation coming over his own head and legs. He rose
from the ground and shook himself, but instead of the accustomed rattle
of his steel armour no sound was produced. He wished to scratch his
nose, but his arms appeared kept down before him. He tried to call Le
Crapeau, but instead of his manly voice, which had so often shouted
loudly in the battle, a timid cry alone proceeded from his throat. He
looked at the donkey, and the donkey looked at him, and shook its head
with an expression truly mournful. Something strange must have occurred
he feared.

Wherever he went the donkey followed. He wandered away from the
mulberry-tree till he reached a lake of crystal water; he approached it,
when, on its mirror-like surface, instead of a steel-clad warrior, he
beheld a deer with long antlers and shaggy hide, he started back with
dismay. When hunger pressed him he found himself cropping the grass or
thrusting his nose into the purling brook, with his attendant donkey
ever by his side. Pitiable as was Saint George's condition that of
Saint Denis was infinitely worse.

Thus for many years he continued unable to recover his natural form.
Often he returned to the mulberry-tree, the cause, as he believed, of
his misfortune. It did not occur to him that the fairy, whose
hospitality he had enjoyed, had anything to do with it. Once, as he
came to the tree, so enraged