Presently she stood by his side, and when she saw him, she too had pity on him for the youth and kindness of his face. And once she shut her eyes, and lifted her head for the stroke; but then weakness seized her, and she laid her head softly upon his heart and said, “Once the breast that gave me milk gave milk also to you. You were my sister’s brother, and she spared you: so how can I peck out your heart?” And having said this she went softly back into the tree, and crouched down again among her sisters. They said to her, “Have you blood upon your beak? Is his heart ours?” But she answered them no word. The next day the two sisters, who because their hearts betrayed them had become mute, followed the Prince wherever he went, and stretched up their heads to his caress. But the others went and came indifferently, careless except for food; for until midnight their human hearts were asleep; only now the two sisters who had given their voices away had regained their human hearts perpetually. That night the same thing happened as before. “Sisters,” said the youngest, “to-night I will go down, since the two eldest of us have failed. My wrong is fresher in my heart than theirs! Be sure I shall not fail!” So the youngest peahen came down from the tree, and the Prince laid his heart bare for her beak, but the bird could not find the will to peck it out. And so it was the next night, and the next, until eight nights were gone. So at last only one peahen was left. At midnight she raised her head, saying, “Sisters, are you awake?” They all turned, and gazed at her weeping, but could say no word. Then she said, “You have all failed, having all tried but me. Now if I fail we shall remain mute and captive for ever, more undone by the loss of our last remaining gift of speech than we were at first. But I tell you, dear sisters, I will not fail; for the happiness of you all lies with me now!” Then she went softly down the tree; and one by one they all went following her, and weeping, to see what the end would be. They stood some way apart, watching with upturned heads, and their poor throats began catching back a wish to cry as the little peahen, the last of the sisters, came and stood by the Prince. Then she, too, looked in his face, and saw the white breast made bare for her beak; and the love of him went deep down into her heart. And she tried and tried to shut her eyes and deal the stroke, but could not. She trembled and sighed, and turned to look at her sisters, where they all stood weeping silently together. “They have spared him,” she said to herself: “why should not I?” But the Prince, seeing that she, too, was about to fail like the rest of them, turned and said, as if in his sleep, “Come, come, little peahen, and peck out my heart!” At that she turned back again to him, and laid her head down upon his heart and cried more sadly than them all.