The sorcerer shook his head and smiled. “And so she thinks I wish to take away her shadows and let the people kill her! Well, well, it’s the way of wickedness to see nothing but evil. Why should I wish her harm? What I seek to do is to save her, not to destroy her; but she’ll never believe that, because she can’t think straight. Anyway, in trying to do evil she has provided me with the means of making her good.” “How has she done that?” said I. “If she hadn’t stolen the Princess’s shadow, I shouldn’t have brought the Princess here; and if I hadn’t brought the Princess here, she wouldn’t now be a stork; and if she hadn’t been turned to a stork I couldn’t have gotten the drop of blood from her heart.” “Is it true,” said I, “that the Ragpicker protects herself with shadows?” “Of course! What could protect her better? What else is there to fear, but shadows? I confess I’m more than half afraid of them myself. We all know we shouldn’t be, but we are, just the same. They’re perfectly harmless, but they’re terrible. There’s nothing so real as shadows.” “But tell me,” said I, “how we are to save the Princess.” “All in good time,” said the sorcerer; “in the meantime, you must get a little rest, for you have an important task to do in the morning.” I was tired out, in fact. The sorcerer left me, and I sat beside the sleeping stork, watching it in silence for a long while, and then I surrendered myself to drowsiness, and fell asleep. When I awoke, it was morning. The stork was gone, and the sorcerer’s hand was on my shoulder. “Come,” said he, and placed in my hand a tiny bow of thin metal, with a string of fine hair, and showed me how to use the stork’s feather as an arrow to the bow. He then instructed me in what I had to do, and led me out into the street. The stork which had been a Princess was standing on the curb before the door, and all the other storks were in their places on the housetops. The street was already busy; shops and houses were being opened for the day and many people were outdoors. _He Lies in Wait with a Bow and Arrow_ Carrying the stork’s feather and the bow, I went to the next corner, round which on the evening before I had seen the Ragpicker turn up toward her home. I passed this corner, and concealed myself in a doorway just beyond. I had not long to wait. I had drawn my head back into the doorway for a moment, and when I looked again the Ragpicker was standing at the street crossing with her back toward me, gazing in the direction of the stork which stood before the sorcerer’s door. On her back was her bag, and in her left hand she carried a knife. The people in the street stopped to watch her, muttering together.