“O weary the sea’s commotion, And weary the sea tides’ fret, The fretful tides of the ocean How weary and how wet! The humid hateful ocean The hideous heedless ocean, The ocean huge and humid, That always will be wet! (If I could only once get thoroughly dry, just for a single day! It makes me weary, the way they go on about a life on the ocean wave. I only wish _they_ had to live in it all the time.) And O! for a seat on the settle Beside the ingle nook! And O! for the steaming kettle! And O! for a human cook! I hear, on the soft breeze sighing, The sorrowful soft breeze dying, I hear, as it sighs and rustles, The music of bacon frying, And O, I long to be free! (If I could only get ashore on two feet, for just one hour, I know where I’d go. I know a good warm tavern where--) O dear! could I only be free! For a diet of fish and mussels, Of cold raw fish and mussels, Did never agree with me.” The voice moved off across the sea, and died away in the distance. _“Dear me!” said the Queen. “What an extraordinary song! And so sad, too.”_ _“Never mind, grandmother,” said Bojohn. “Please let him go on with his story.”_ _“Yes, yes, of course,” said the Queen, “let the poor man go on with his story. I wonder how he remembers all those words. I’m sure I never could have remembered them. I’ve a very poor memory for songs, myself. It’s different with the King; I declare he never forgets anything. I remember there was a minstrel came to the castle once, and after he was gone the King repeated word for word--_” _“Please, grandmother,” said Bojohn._ _“What is it, my dear?”_ _“Solario is waiting to go on with his story.”_ _“So he is,” said the Queen. “I think it’s a very pretty story indeed. I wonder how it ends!”_ _“Go on!” cried Bojohn, and Solario proceeded._ The Princess lingered, hoping to hear the voice again, but it came no more. She turned back into her room and lit the lamp which hung from the center of the ceiling. She stood before her mirror, with the lamp at her back, and as she raised her hand to unfasten the pearl necklace which she wore, she glanced at the wall beside the mirror. Her shadow, thrown by the lamp, stood upright against the wall. And at that moment she saw something which caused her to stiffen with terror. _The Princess Sees the Shadow of an Old Woman_ Through the crack of her closed door at the right of her shadow, another shadow was oozing in and spreading itself out across the wall toward her own. It took shape, and paused for a moment; it was the shadow of a bent old woman, stooping under a heavy bag, and holding out in one hand a kind of poker with a hook at the end.