"It is a common thing among mortals," replied the fairy, "to say the
thing which is not true, and do the thing which is not honest; but among
the other races of beings who inhabit this world the penalty of mocking
and imitating the vices of you, the superior race, is, that if ever one
of us can be convicted of it, that one, be it gnome, sprite, or fairy,
is never permitted to appear in the likeness of humanity again, nor to
walk about on the face of the land which is your inheritance. Now the
gnomes hate one another, and if it should be discovered by the brethren
of this my enemy that he stole the opal ring, they will not fail to
betray him. There is, therefore, no doubt, little Hulda, that he carries
both the ring and the wand about with him wherever he goes, and if in
all your walks and during your whole life you should see him again, and
go boldly up to him and demand the stolen stone, he will be compelled
instantly to burrow his way down again into the earth, and leave behind
him all his ill-gotten gains."
"There is, then, still some hope," said Hulda, in a happier voice; "but
where, dear fairy, have you hidden yourself so long?"
"I have passed a dreary time," replied the fairy. "I have been compelled
to leave Europe and fly across to Africa, for my enemy inhabits that
great hollow dome which is the centre of the earth, and he can only come
up in Europe; but my poor little brown wings were often so weary in my
flight across the sea that I wished, like the birds, I could drop into
the waves and die; for what was to me the use of immortality when I
could no longer soothe the sorrow of mortals? But I cannot die; and
after I had fluttered across into Egypt, where the glaring light of the
sun almost blinded me, I was thankful to find a ruined tomb or temple
underground, where great marble sarcophagi were ranged around the walls,
and where in the dusky light I could rest from my travels, in a place
where I only knew the difference between night and day by the redness of
the one sunbeam which stole in through a crevice, and the silvery blue
of the moonbeam that succeeded it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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