where the old bed-gear
was faded and threadbare, but had still to hold out. Such a song was
not sung at the children's cradles. High life had become wretched
life. I was the only one then who sang loudly in the castle," said the
wind. "I snowed them in, and they said they were comfortable. They had
no wood to burn--the trees had been felled from which they would have
got it. It was a sharp frost. I rushed through loopholes and
corridors, over roofs and walls, to keep up my activity. In their poor
chamber lay the three aristocratic daughters in their bed to keep
themselves warm. To be as poor as church mice--that was high life!
Wheugh! Would they give it up? But Herr Daae could not.

"'After winter comes spring,' said he. 'After want come good times;
but they make one wait. The castle is now mortgaged--we have arrived
at the worst--we shall have gold now at Easter!'

"I heard him murmuring near a spider's web:--

"'Thou active little weaver! thou teachest me to persevere. Even if
thy web be swept away thou dost commence again, and dost complete it.
Again let it be torn asunder, and, unwearied, thou dost again
recommence thy work over and over again. I shall follow thy example. I
will go on, and I shall be rewarded.'

"It was Easter morning--the church bells were ringing. The sun was
careering in the heavens. Under a burning fever the alchemist had
watched all night: he had boiled and cooled--mixed and distilled. I
heard him sigh like a despairing creature; I heard him pray; I
perceived that he held his breath in his anxiety. The lamp had gone
out--he did not seem to notice it. I blew on the red-hot cinders; they
brightened up, and shone on his chalky-white face, and tinged it with
a momentary brightness. The eyes had almost closed in their deep
sockets; now they opened wider--wider--as if they were about to spring
forth.

"Look at the alchemical glass! There is something sparkling in it! It
is glowing, pure, heavy! He lifted it with a trembling hand. He cried
with trembling lips, 'Gold--gold!' He staggered, and seemed quite
giddy at the sight. I could have blown him away," said the wind; "but
I only blew in the ruddy fire, and followed him through the door in to
where his daughters were freezing. His dress was covered with ashes;
they were to be seen in his beard, and in his matted hair. He raised
his head proudly, stretched forth his rich treasure in the fragile
glass, and 'Won--won! gold!' he cried, as he held hi