This the nurse said not because she had really heard anything, but because this was part of a plot that she and the old countess had hatched between them. Days passed, and still nothing was heard of the child. The count was in despair. Even Matilda herself was scarcely more dear to him than his infant son. At the end of a year another child was born to Matilda, and this also was a son, a child as strong and handsome as the first. But again, when the infant was only a few weeks old, the nurse stole it away secretly in the night, without being seen by anyone. In the morning the cradle was empty, and no trace of the child could be found anywhere. The count was filled with grief and anguish. In his heart he secretly blamed Matilda because she had not awakened when the child was carried away. But he restrained himself from reproaching her. He could not help treating her somewhat coldly, however, and Matilda was grieved to the heart not only over the loss of the child, but because she feared her husband no longer loved her. At the end of the year, still a third child was born, and now, in order to make sure that it should not be stolen, a watch was kept over the infant—by day and night; and though he slept by Matilda’s side, there was always some one else in the room with them. But even this precaution could not keep the nurse from carrying out her wicked plans. When the child was still only a few weeks old, she managed one evening to put a sleeping potion in the repast that was served to Matilda, and in that of the attendant as well. Night came and the child was laid in the cradle close to Matilda’s bed. The attendant took her place at the door. It was not long, however, before Matilda and the attendant fell into a deep sleep. The nurse then stole into the room, and lifting the child from the cradle, she carried it away with her as she had the two others. When morning came, and it was discovered that this child too had been stolen, the count could restrain himself no longer. The woman who had been in attendance was thrown into prison, and he heaped reproaches on Matilda for having allowed this third child, the most beautiful of them all, to be stolen from her side. “You should not be surprised,” said the wicked nurse, “and the attendant is not to blame. There is some enchantment in this, and if you will come aside with me into a private room, I will tell you of some things I have seen here in the castle in the last three years.” The count was in a state to listen to anything, and he allowed the nurse to speak to him in private, and to tell him the story that she and the old countess had arranged between them.