The shrunken toad sat alone in the corner. There was silence, but after
a short interval there came from her breast a half-smothered sigh. It
was as if, painfully, a soul awoke to life in a corner of her heart. She
took one step forward, listened, took another step, and then with her
awkward hands she seized the heavy bar that was placed before the door.
Gently she put it back, and quietly she drew out the peg that was stuck
in over the latch. She took the lighted lamp that stood in front of the
rooms; it seemed as if a strong will gave her power. She drew the iron
pin out of the bolted shutter, and moved gently towards the prisoner. He
was asleep. She touched him with her cold, damp hand, and when he awoke
and saw that hideous form, he shuddered, as if at an evil vision. She
drew her knife, severed his bonds, and made signs to him to follow her.
He called upon the holy Name, made the sign of the cross, and as the
figure stood unchanged, he repeated the words of the Bible:--
‘“The Lord will preserve him and keep him alive: the Lord will deliver
him in time of trouble.” Who art thou? Whence is this reptile shape that
yet is so full of deeds of compassion?’
The toad-figure beckoned and guided him behind sheltering curtains by a
solitary way out to the stable, pointed at a horse; he mounted it, and
she seated herself before him and held on by the mane of the animal. The
prisoner understood her, and they rode away at a quick trot, by a path
he would never have discovered, out to the open heath.
He forgot her hideous form, for the favour and mercy of the Lord were
acting through this hobgoblin. He offered up pious prayers, and began to
sing holy songs; and she trembled; was it the power of the prayers and
hymns that acted upon her? or was it the coldness of the morning which
was so quickly coming? What was it that she felt? She raised herself up
in the breeze, and wished to stop the horse and spring off; but the
Christian priest held her fast with all his strength, and sang aloud a
Psalm, as if that would have power to loose the spell that held her in
that hideous frog shape, and the horse galloped forward yet more wildly.
The heaven became red; the first ray of the sun shot through the cloud,
and with that clear spring of light came the change of form--she was the
beautiful young girl with the demoniac, evil temper! In his arms he held
a peerless maiden, and in utter terror he sprang from the horse and
stopped it, for he thought he was encountering a new and deadly
witchcraft. But young Helga at the same time leapt to the ground; the
short child’s frock reached only to her knees; she drew the sharp knife
from her belt, and rushed at the startled man.
‘Let me get at you!’ she cried; ‘let me get at you, and you shall feel
the knife. Yes, you are as pale as hay! Slave! Beardless boy!’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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