'I have three bad animals here,' he said, 'that I want to get rid of. If you will take them and feed them, and treat them as I wish, I will pay you what you like to ask.' 'Why not?' said the Miller. 'How do you want them treated?' The Huntsman said he wanted the old she-ass (the Witch) to be well beaten three times a day and fed once. The younger one, which was the Maid, beaten once and fed three times. The youngest of all, who was the beautiful Maiden, was to be fed three times, and not beaten at all; he could not find it in his heart to have her beaten. Then he went back to the castle and found everything he wanted in it. A few days later the Miller came and told him that the old ass which was to be beaten three times and fed once, was dead. 'The other two,' he said, 'which are to be fed three times, are not dead, but they are pining away, and won't last long.' The Huntsman's heart was stirred with pity, and he told the Miller to bring them back to him. When they came he gave them some of the other salad to eat, so that they took their human shapes again. The beautiful Maiden fell on her knees before him, and said: 'O my beloved, forgive me all the wrong I have done you. My mother forced me to do it. It was against my own will, for I love you dearly. Your wishing-cloak is hanging in the cupboard, and you shall have the bird's heart back too.' But he said: 'Keep it; it will be all the same, as I will take you to be my own true wife.' Their marriage was soon after celebrated, and they lived happily together till they died. The Youth who could not Shudder There was once a Father who had two sons. One was clever and sensible, and always knew how to get on. But the younger one was stupid, and could not learn anything, and he had no imagination. When people saw him, they said: 'His Father will have plenty of trouble with him.' Whenever there was anything to be done, the eldest one always had to do it. But if his Father sent him to fetch anything late in the evening, or at night, and the way lay through the churchyard, or any other dreary place, he would answer: 'Oh no, Father, not there; it makes me shudder!' For he was afraid. In the evening, when stories were being told round the fire which made one's flesh creep, and the listeners said: 'Oh, you make me shudder!' the youngest son, sitting in the corner listening, could not imagine what they meant. 'They always say "It makes me shudder! It makes me shudder!" And it doesn't make me shudder a bit. It must be some art which I can't understand.' Now it happened one day that his Father said to him: 'I say, you in the corner there, you are growing big and strong. You must learn something by which you can make a living. See what pains your brother takes, but you are not worth your salt.' 'Well, Father,' he answered, 'I am quite ready to learn something; nay, I should very much like to learn how to shudder, for I know nothing about that.'