"And now I see you dark, and clothed in green, and the mother of all the light that dwells in the stones of the earth! And up there they call you Old Mother Wotherwop! And the Princess Irene told me you were her great-great-grandmother! And you spin the spider-threads, and take care of a whole people of pigeons; and you are worn to a pale shadow with old age; and are as young as anybody can be, not to be too young; and as strong, I do believe, as I am." The lady stooped towards a large green stone bedded in the rock of the floor, and looking like a well of grassy light in it. She laid hold of it with her fingers, broke it out, and gave it to Peter. "There!" cried Curdie, "I told you so. Twenty men could not have done that. And your fingers are white and smooth as any lady's in the land. I don't know what to make of it." "I could give you twenty names more to call me, Curdie, and not one of them would be a false one. What does it matter how many names if the person is one?" "Ah! but it is not names only, ma'am. Look at what you were like last night, and what I see you now!" "Shapes are only dresses, Curdie, and dresses are only names. That which is inside is the same all the time." "But then how can all the shapes speak the truth?" "It would want thousands more to speak the truth, Curdie; and then they could not. But there is a point I must not let you mistake about. It is one thing the shape I choose to put on, and quite another the shape that foolish talk and nursery tale may please to put upon me. Also, it is one thing what you or your father may think about me, and quite another what a foolish or bad man may see in me. For instance, if a thief were to come in here just now, he would think he saw the demon of the mine, all in green flames, come to protect her treasure, and would run like a hunted wild goat. I should be all the same, but his evil eyes would see me as I was not." "I think I understand," said Curdie. "Peter," said the lady, turning then to him, "you will have to give up Curdie for a little while." "So long as he loves us, ma'am, that will not matter--much." "Ah! you are right there, my friend," said the beautiful princess. And as she said it she put out her hand, and took the hard, horny hand of the miner in it, and held it for a moment lovingly. "I need say no more," she added, "for we understand each other--you and I, Peter." The tears came into Peter's eyes. He bowed his head in thankfulness, and his heart was much too full to speak. Then the great old young beautiful princess turned to Curdie. "Now, Curdie, are you ready?" she said. "Yes, ma'am," answered Curdie. "You do not know what for." "You do, ma'am. That is enough." "You could not have given me a better answer, or done more to prepare yourself, Curdie," she returned, with one of her radiant smiles. "Do you think you will know me again?" "I think so. But how can I tell what you may look like next?"