had robbed his wheat-field.

"The gnomes wear tiny red caps," I went on, "which make them
invisible. They are called tarn-caps, or caps of darkness. The peasant
that I am telling about had a suspicion that it was the gnomes who had
been stealing his wheat. One evening, he went out after sunset (for
the gnomes never venture out from their holes until the sun is down)
and began to fight in the air with his cane about the borders of the
field. Then suddenly he saw a very tiny man with knee-breeches and
large frightened eyes, turning a somersault in the grass right at his
feet. He had struck off his cap, and then, of course, the gnome was no
longer invisible. The peasant immediately seized the cap and put it
into his pocket; the gnome begged and implored to get it back, but
instead of that, the peasant caught him up in his arms and carried him
to his house, where he kept him as a captive until the other gnomes
sent a herald to him and offered him a large ransom. Then the gnome
was again set free and the peasant made his fortune by the
transaction."

"Wouldn't it be delightful if such things could ever happen here?"
exclaimed Mabel, while her beautiful eyes shone with pleasure at the
very thought.

"I should think so," said I. "It is said, too, that if there are
gnomes and elves in the neighborhood, they always gather around you
when you talk about them."

"Really?" And Mabel sent a timid glance in among the large mossy
trunks of the beeches and pines.

"Tell me something more, Jamie," she demanded, eagerly.

Mabel had such a charming way of saying "Jamie," that I could never
have opposed a wish of hers, whatever it might be. The professor
called me James, and among my friends I was Jim; but it was only Mabel
who called me Jamie. So I told her all I knew about the nixies, who
sang their strange songs at midnight in the water; about the elves,
who lived in the roses and lilies, and danced in a ring around the
tall flowers until the grass never grew there again; and about the
elf-maiden who led the knight astray when he was riding to his bride
on his wedding-day. And all the while Mabel's eyes seemed to be
growing larger; the blood burned in her cheeks, and sometimes she
shuddered, although the afternoon was very warm. When I had finished
my tale, I rose and seated myself at her side. The silence suddenly
seemed quite oppressive; it was almost as if we could hear it. For
some reason neither Mabel nor I dared to speak;