“And, God be thanked! that has mattered not,” hastily interrupted Greta. “For our flask is still far from being empty.” “Certainly, certainly,” nodded Hans. “But yet it would please me if we could see the good wood-sprite once again, and thank her for our good fortune. Come--let us go and seek her. Perhaps I will be as lucky to-day as formerly.” Then they set out and went deeper into the forest, and after a quarter of an hour saw there, before their eyes, the sunny forest meadow. Lilies and bluebells bloomed in the grass, gay-colored butterflies flew to and fro, and on the edge of the forest stood also the little house, just as in years before. They went toward the house with beating hearts, and best of all, there was indeed the fountain of youth at hand, and dragon-flies, in green and gold, hovered over it. Hans and Greta stepped to the brim of the spring. They embraced each other and stooped over the water; and from out the clear surface of the spring there confronted them two gray heads with friendly, wrinkled faces. Then hot tears fell from the eyes of the old couple, and they stood stammering and sobbing in mutual guilt. It required a long time before it became clear to them that each had deluded and for long years had lovingly deceived the other. “Thou hast also known that we have both grown old?” cried out Hans, joyfully. “Of course, of course,” laughed the wife, amid tears. “And I, also,” rejoiced old Hans. Then he took his wife and kissed her as on the day she had said “Yes” to him. Then the forest-sprite suddenly stood before them, as if she had sprung out of the earth. “Welcome,” said she. “You have not appeared before me for a long time. But--but,” continued the little woman, and threatened with her finger, “you have kept a bad home with the water of youth. Wrinkles and gray hair! Ah, ah! Now,” continued she again, “that is easy to remedy, and you are come at a good hour. Quick! Spring into the fountain of youth; it is not deep; dip your gray heads under; then you shall see a miracle. The bath will restore to you youthful vigor and beauty. But quick, before the sun sinks!” Hans and Greta looked at each other. “Wilt thou?” asked the husband, in an uncertain voice. “Never,” answered Greta, quickly. “Oh, if thou only knowest how happy I am, that at last I may be old! And, also, it would be impossible on account of our children and grandchildren. No, gracious forest-sprite, a thousand thanks for your good deed, but we remain as we are. Is it not so, Hans?” “Yes,” nodded Hans, “we remain old. If thou couldst but know, Greta, how well your gray hair becomes you.” “As you will,” said the wood-sprite, a little vexed. “There is no ceremony here.” So speaking, she went into the house and locked the door behind her. But the old couple kissed each other anew. Then they stepped homeward, arm in arm, through the forest, and the midsummer sun shed a golden light upon their gray heads.