ing to
the great account, it said:

"Thou shalt go to the city of magic; thou shalt take root there,
and enjoy the mighty rushing breezes, the air and the sunshine
there. But the time of thy life shall then be shortened; the line of
years that awaited thee here amid the free nature shall shrink to
but a small tale. Poor Dryad! It shall be thy destruction. Thy
yearning and longing will increase, thy desire will grow more
stormy, the tree itself will be as a prison to thee, thou wilt quit
thy cell and give up thy nature to fly out and mingle among men.
Then the years that would have belonged to thee will be contracted
to half the span of the ephemeral fly, that lives but a day: one
night, and thy life-taper shall be blown out--the leaves of the tree
will wither and be blown away, to become green never again!"

Thus the words sounded. And the light vanished away, but not the
longing of the Dryad. She trembled in the wild fever of expectation.

"I shall go there!" she cried, rejoicingly. "Life is beginning and
swells like a cloud; nobody knows whither it is hastening."

When the gray dawn arose and the moon turned pale and the clouds
were tinted red, the wished-for hour struck. The words of promise were
fulfilled.

People appeared with spades and poles; they dug round the roots of
the tree, deeper and deeper, and beneath it. A wagon was brought
out, drawn by many horses, and the tree was lifted up, with its
roots and the lumps of earth that adhered to them; matting was
placed around the roots, as though the tree had its feet in a warm
bag. And now the tree was lifted on the wagon and secured with chains.
The journey began--the journey to Paris. There the tree was to grow as
an ornament to the city of French glory.

The twigs and the leaves of the chestnut tree trembled in the
first moments of its being moved; and the Dryad trembled in the
pleasurable feeling of expectation.

"Away! away!" it sounded in every beat of her pulse. "Away!
away" sounded in words that flew trembling along. The Dryad forgot
to bid farewell to the regions of home; she thought not of the
waving grass and of the innocent daisies, which had looked up to her
as to a great lady, a young Princess playing at being a shepherdess
out in the open air.

The chestnut tree stood upon the wagon, and nodded his branches;
whether this meant "farewell" or "forward," the Dryad knew not; she
dreamed only of the marvellous new things, that seemed yet so
fam