tood; and after
removing the leaves from the earth, she turned it up, and there
found him who had been murdered. Oh, how she wept and prayed that
she also might die! Gladly would she have taken the body home with
her; but that was impossible; so she took up the poor head with the
closed eyes, kissed the cold lips, and shook the mould out of the
beautiful hair.

"I will keep this," said she; and as soon as she had covered the
body again with the earth and leaves, she took the head and a little
sprig of jasmine that bloomed in the wood, near the spot where he
was buried, and carried them home with her. As soon as she was in
her room, she took the largest flower-pot she could find, and in
this she placed the head of the dead man, covered it up with earth,
and planted the twig of jasmine in it.

"Farewell, farewell," whispered the little elf. He could not any
longer endure to witness all this agony of grief, he therefore flew
away to his own rose in the garden. But the rose was faded; only a few
dry leaves still clung to the green hedge behind it.

"Alas! how soon all that is good and beautiful passes away,"
sighed the elf.

After a while he found another rose, which became his home, for
among its delicate fragrant leaves he could dwell in safety. Every
morning he flew to the window of the poor girl, and always found her
weeping by the flower pot. The bitter tears fell upon the jasmine
twig, and each day, as she became paler and paler, the sprig
appeared to grow greener and fresher. One shoot after another sprouted
forth, and little white buds blossomed, which the poor girl fondly
kissed. But her wicked brother scolded her, and asked her if she was
going mad. He could not imagine why she was weeping over that
flower-pot, and it annoyed him. He did not know whose closed eyes were
there, nor what red lips were fading beneath the earth. And one day
she sat and leaned her head against the flower-pot, and the little elf
of the rose found her asleep. Then he seated himself by her ear,
talked to her of that evening in the arbor, of the sweet perfume of
the rose, and the loves of the elves. Sweetly she dreamed, and while
she dreamt, her life passed away calmly and gently, and her spirit was
with him whom she loved, in heaven. And the jasmine opened its large
white bells, and spread forth its sweet fragrance; it had no other way
of showing its grief for the dead. But the wicked brother considered
the beautiful blooming plant a