an drew back from the Princess as from something elfin.

"I am cold," she said, "and weary. Let me rest beside your fire."

The woodman was visibly commoved, but answered nothing.

"I will pay," she said, and then repented of the words, catching perhaps
a spark of terror from his frightened eyes. But, as usual, her courage
rekindled brighter for the check. She put him from the door and entered;
and he followed her in superstitious wonder.

Within, the hut was rough and dark; but on the stone that served as
hearth, twigs and a few dry branches burned with the brisk sounds and
all the variable beauty of fire. The very sight of it composed her; she
crouched hard by on the earth floor and shivered in the glow, and looked
upon the eating blaze with admiration. The woodman was still staring at
his guest; at the wreck of the rich dress, the bare arms, the bedraggled
laces and the gems. He found no word to utter.

"Give me food," said she,--"here, by the fire."

He set down a pitcher of coarse wine, bread, a piece of cheese, and a
handful of raw onions. The bread was hard and sour, the cheese like
leather; even the onion, which ranks with the truffle and the nectarine
in the chief place of honour of earth's fruits, is not perhaps a dish
for princesses when raw. But she ate, if not with appetite, with
courage; and when she had eaten, did not disdain the pitcher. In all her
life before, she had not tasted of gross food nor drunk after another;
but a brave woman far more readily accepts a change of circumstances
than the bravest man. All that while, the woodman continued to observe
her furtively, many low thoughts of fear and greed contending in his
eyes. She read them clearly, and she knew she must be gone.

Presently she arose and offered him a florin.

"Will that repay you?" she asked.

But here the man found his tongue. "I must have more than that," said
he.

"It is all I have to give you," she returned, and passed him by
serenely.

Yet her heart trembled, for she saw his hand stretched forth as if to
arrest her, and his unsteady eyes wandering to his axe. A beaten path
led westward from the clearing, and she swiftly followed it. She did not
glance behind her. But as soon as the least turning of the path had
concealed her from the woodman's eyes, she slipped among the trees and
ran till she deemed herself in safety.

By this time the strong sunshine pierced in a thousand places the
pine-thatch of the forest, fire