The light was growing brighter every moment, and pale streaks in the sky began to kindle the sea when the fish and his companion drew near the object of which they had been speaking. In the midst of the heaving water there rose a steep rock; on its grim sides grew neither sea-weed nor anything to give sign of life. There was an oppressive silence hanging over everything, and the water lay dark and still; no little wave played against the relentless stone. On the top of this rock a beautiful woman sat with her hands clasped together. She wore a black robe against which her arms shone like ivory, and her hair flowed in a shower over her shoulders. Now and then she raised her eyes and looked out to sea; they wandered over the horizon and rested with a look of sad expectation upon it, then she sighed and glanced down at something which she held in her hand. Beside her stood the only living creature excepting herself visible on that desolate place—a gigantic grey cormorant of terrible aspect and size. A gleam of light from the rising sun shot over the waters, and, as it touched the woman’s hair with its first rays, the cormorant flew up into the air. From some hidden place in the rock another bird appeared, and, joining its mate, rose with him far above their bleak abode; then the two sailed away and were soon lost in the distance. “What does it all mean? Oh, do tell me!” begged the little boy. “I thought I could show you something surprising,” chuckled the fish; “this is the history of it. I am one of the _very few_ who know anything about it. Inside that rock, in a cavern which is reached by a passage to which no one knows the entrance, sits an old witch; she is very wicked, and is sometimes able to cast dreadful spells upon her enemies. That Princess who sits there is the daughter of a King, whose country is an immense way off, and who once had the ill-luck to offend the old woman. So, when the Princess was a child, she went to the King’s palace and stole her away; here she has kept her sitting, year after year, upon this lonely rock with no one to speak to but the old cormorant. Every day he keeps guard in case someone should come to take her away, and every morning he flies off to fish with his mate, who has a nest just now and young ones in a cave of the rock. Once in two days the hag comes out to bring the Princess food and to ask her whether she sees anyone coming, and when she gets no reply, she laughs and leaves her again.” “Will she ever get away?” asked the little boy. “How can I tell?” said the fish. “She has sat there for so long that it doesn’t seem like it. There is only one chance that I can see. She holds in her hand a little heart made of gold; if she could only find someone to whom she could give it, she might be saved. For, whoever possesses it can ask any question, and the heart will answer and tell its owner how to act under all difficulties. But he who takes it has to accept trouble and pain with the gift.”