"I know it, O illustrious princess," said the hermit, with deep reverence; "and doubt not that I shall discharge my duty. May it please your royal highness to enter the abode of the humble?" "Dismount!" cried Bertha in the ear of her betrothed, suddenly, as if to wake him up, for the simple youth looked as if he intended to remain on the horse's back all day. Hans dismounted clumsily, and nearly tripped himself up with his pointed iron toes. "Now, then, tie up the horse to a tree and enter the cave, and don't look such a fool," said the princess. Hans entered the cave, and placed himself in front of the rude altar, having unclasped his helmet and deposited his bride on a large stone near. The hermit lit candles, opened the mass-book, and the ceremony began. As the moment for putting on of the ring drew near, a faint and distant music, together with a perfume like incense, seemed to fill the cave. Then followed a bright sunbeam, through which swam troops of fairies. Then the distant sound of trumpets was heard, and the troop made way for the chariot of the fairy queen, who, stepping out of her car of mother-of-pearl and precious stones, and standing upon a cloud of incense, handed Hans the wedding ring, and bestowed a benediction on the happy pair. It was no easy task for Hans' clumsy fingers to place so small a ring upon so tiny a finger, but at length by the aid of a needle brought to him for the purpose he accomplished the feat, and the marriage ceremony over, the knight and the lady rode off in the same fashion as before. Now, it may be thought by some, perhaps, that these two were ill matched, but that only shows how the whole world may be deceived by appearances, for they were most admirably mated. It is true they had little in common with each other, but for that very reason in this case, at least, they pulled well together. Bertha was physically weak, but then Hans was strong. Hans was as stupid as an owl, but the princess was as clear sighted as an eagle and as cunning as a fox. Bertha possessed the brains and Hans the brawny arm. Each was a type of those two items which go to make up the most perfect human being--mind and matter. In this case the husband was not the head of the wife, but the wife the head of the husband, and a very clear little head it was, too. The princess was ever concealed in her husband's helmet, close to his ear, to give him sage councils, which he, as you shall hear farther on, often had occasion to put into practise by his superior physical strength. The world would have chosen for Hans some rough daughter of the soil, as stupid as himself, and as nearly as possible of his own dimensions; but this sort of wife, however well she might have suited Hans in his former contented existence, would never have raised him into the hero that he afterwards became.