ather and mother say goes a road he
does not know." And so she lamented every day, until her eyes became
two fountains, and her face was so thin and sallow, that her own father
would not have known her.

At the end of a year the King's locksmith, whom Cannetella knew,
happening to pass by the stable, she called to him and went out. The
smith heard his name, but did not recognise the poor girl, who was so
much altered; but when he knew who she was, and how she had become thus
changed, partly out of pity and partly to gain the King's favour, he
put her into an empty cask he had with him on a pack-horse, and,
trotting off towards High-Hill, he arrived at midnight at the King's
palace. Then he knocked at the door, and at first the servants would
not let him in, but roundly abused him for coming at such an hour to
disturb the sleep of the whole house. The King, however, hearing the
uproar, and being told by a chamberlain what was the matter, ordered
the smith to be instantly admitted, for he knew that something unusual
must have made him come at that hour. Then the smith, unloading his
beast, knocked out the head of the cask, and forth came Cannetella, who
needed more than words to make her father recognise her, and had it not
been for a mole on her arm she might well have been dismissed. But as
soon as he was assured of the truth he embraced and kissed her a
thousand times. Then he instantly commanded a warm bath to be got
ready; when she was washed from head to foot, and had dressed herself,
he ordered food to be brought, for she was faint with hunger. Then her
father said to her, "Who would ever have told me, my child, that I
should see you in this plight? Who has brought you to this sad
condition?" And she answered, "Alas, my dear sire, that Barbary Turk
has made me lead the life of a dog, so that I was nearly at death's
door again and again. I cannot tell you what I have suffered, but, now
that I am here, never more will I stir from your feet. Rather will I be
a servant in your house than a queen in another. Rather will I wear
sackcloth where you are than a golden mantle away from you. Rather will
I turn a spit in your kitchen than hold a sceptre under the canopy of
another."

Meanwhile Fioravante, returning home, was told by the horses that the
locksmith had carried off Cannetella in the cask, on hearing which,
burning with shame, and all on fire with rage, off he ran towards
High-Hill, and, meeting an old woman who