iven. As soon
as it had been done, the little maiden made a leap as of joy, and then
began to dance about inside the vase, sometimes touching the sandy
bottom, but most of the time gliding to and fro in mid-water, turning
herself this way and that in graceful caprioles, diving through the
archway and coming up out of the grove of seaweeds on the other side;
waving her arms about her head with dreamy motions; sometimes resting
quietly upon nothing, as if she were asleep; then swimming like a fish
with her arms folded and her feet crossed one over the other; and now
playing at peep-bo with Oscar behind the rocks. Oscar had never been
so delighted; his eyes sparkled and his cheeks were red. At last his
little playmate dived into the pearl-shell and disappeared, and the
boy began to fear that he should see her no more. But in a very short
time she came out again, holding something in her hand. She smiled and
nodded to him, and rose up through the water until she nearly reached
the surface. Oscar thought she must be coming out, and his heart beat
with expectation. But she was not coming out. Instead of that, she
stretched up her tiny hand above the surface, and Oscar now saw that
it held a pearl. He cautiously put out his own hand, and took the
pearl from her fingers. Then she nodded again, and descended.
'Is this for me?' asked Oscar, very softly.
Hereupon she made him the most charming little bow imaginable, at the
same time bringing both her hands to her lips, and blowing him a kiss.
'Thank you, you lovely little creature!' said Oscar. 'But can you
understand all I say to you?'
Again the little maiden smiled, and nodded her head up and down.
'And can you speak also?' the boy demanded.
She put up one hand, and waved it slowly backwards and forwards before
her face.
'Ah, she cannot speak!' thought Oscar; and he felt a momentary touch
of sadness.
But at that an expression came into her face that seemed to say, as
plainly as could be, 'If I cannot talk as you do, still I can talk.'
And not only did her face seem to say this, but she said it, as it
were, with all there was of her; and although in one sense there was
very little of her, yet in another sense there was so very much, that
not the largest giant ever heard of could have said so much without
speaking as she could. Oscar could not account for it. Talking without
speaking was something new to him. 'But, after all,' he thought,
'nobody could talk under
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