Next day, it seemed to him that he was on the right track. He still went forward, until darkness came on, then he climbed a tree, intending to pass the night there, for he feared that he might lose his way. When the moon illumined the surrounding country he perceived a figure coming down the mountain. She had no stick in her hand, yet he could see that it was the goose-girl, whom he had seen before in the house of the Old Woman. “Oho,” cried he, “there she comes, and if I once get hold of one of the Witches, the other shall not escape me!” But how astonished he was, when she went to the well, took off the skin and washed herself. Her golden hair fell down all about her, and she was more beautiful than any one whom he had ever seen in the whole world. He hardly dared to breathe, but stretched his head as far forward through the leaves as he dared, and stared at her. Either he bent over too far, or whatever the cause might be, the bough suddenly cracked, and that very moment the maiden slipped into the skin, sprang away like a roe, and as the moon was suddenly covered, disappeared from his eyes. Hardly had she disappeared, before the Count descended from the tree, and hastened after her with nimble steps. He had not gone far before he saw, in the twilight, two figures coming over the meadow. It was the King and Queen, who had perceived from a distance the light shining in the Old Woman’s little house, and were going to it. The Count told them what wonderful thing he had seen by the well, and they did not doubt but that she was their lost daughter. They walked onward full of joy, and soon came to the little house. The geese were sitting all round it, and had thrust their heads under their wings and were sleeping, and not one of them moved. The King and Queen looked in at the window. The Old Woman was sitting there quietly spinning, nodding her head and never looking round. The room was perfectly clean, as if the little Mist Men, who carry no dust on their feet, lived there. Their daughter, however, they did not see. They gazed at all this for a long time. At last they took heart, and knocked softly at the window. The Old Woman appeared to have been expecting them. She rose, and called out quite kindly, “Come in,--I know you already.” When they had entered the room, the Old Woman said, “You might have spared yourself the long walk, if you had not three years ago unjustly driven away your child, who is so good and lovable. No harm has come to her. For three years she has had to tend the geese. With them she has learnt no evil, but has preserved her purity of heart. You, however, have been sufficiently punished by the misery in which you have lived.” Then she went to the chamber and called, “Come out, my little Daughter.” Thereupon the door opened, and the Princess stepped out in her silken garments, with her golden hair and her shining eyes, and it was as if an Angel from Heaven had entered.