Wherein we shall see what happened to George of Blanchelande
because he approached the lake in which the nixies dwel
Honey-Bee crossed the sand between two clumps of willows, and the little
spirit of the place leaped into the water in front of her, leaving
circles that grew greater and greater and finally vanished. This spirit
was a little green frog with a white belly. All was silent; a fresh
breeze swept over the clear lake whose every ripple had the gracious
curve of a smile.
“This lake is pretty,” said Honey-Bee, “but my feet are bleeding in
my little torn shoes, and I am very hungry. I wish I were back in the
castle.”
“Little sister,” said George, “sit down on the grass. I will wrap your
feet in leaves to cool them; then I will go in search of supper for you.
High up along the road I saw some ripe blackberries. I will fetch you
the sweetest and best in my hat. Give me your handkerchief; I will fill
it with strawberries, for there are strawberries near here along the
footpath under the shade of the trees. And I will fill my pockets with
nuts.”
He made a bed of moss for Honey-Bee under a willow on the edge of the
lake, and then he left her.
Honey-Bee lay with folded hands on her little mossy bed and watched the
light of the first stars tremble in the pale sky; then her eyes half
closed, and yet it seemed to her as if overhead she saw a little dwarf
mounted on a raven. It was not fancy. For having reined in the black
bird who was gnawing at the bridle, the dwarf stopped just above the
young girl and stared down at her with his round eyes. Whereupon he
disappeared at full gallop. All this Honey-Bee saw vaguely and then she
fell asleep.
She was still asleep when George returned with the fruit he had
gathered, which he placed at her side. Then he climbed down to the lake
while he waited for her to awaken. The lake slept under its delicate
crown of verdure. A light mist swept softly over the waters. Suddenly
the moon appeared between the branches, and then the waves were strewn
as if with countless stars.
But George could see that the lights which irradiated the waters were
not all the broken reflections of the moon, for blue flames advanced in
circles, swaying and undulating as if in a dance. Soon he saw that the
blue flames flickered over the white faces of women, beautiful faces
rising on the crests of the waves and crowned with sea-weeds and
sea-shells, with sea-green tresses floating over their shoulders and
veils flowing from under their breasts that shimmered with pearls. The
child recognised the nixies and tried to flee. But already their cold
white arms had seized him, and in spite of his struggles and cries he
was borne across the waters along the galleries of porphyry and crystal.