A crowd of grotesque goblins, all very like their master, rushed forward and tried to seize Kelch, but he sprinkled them with the magic water, which burnt like fire, and they all tumbled back in a confused mass. The Golden Goblin stamped with rage, but was afraid to come near Kelch, lest he also should be sprinkled with the water of contentment. “What do you want?” he shouted, as Kelch paused for a moment. “I told you we would meet again—but what do you want?” “You know well enough,” retorted Kelch coolly. “I want Filina—you stole my Filina from me.” “She’s mine now,” said the Goblin in a grumbling tone, “and I’m going to give her as a bride to the King of Fire; besides, I paid you well for her—you took a lot of gold.” “Yes, but that was a present,” cried Kelch hotly. “I never said I would let you steal my future wife; I want Filina, not your gold.” “Don’t want gold!” said the Goblin in astonishment; “you are the first mortal I ever heard say that.” “I’ve got no time to talk,” observed Kelch, raising the phial, “so if you don’t give me back my Filina, I’ll leave you without a single subject.” “Stop, stop!” cried the Goblin in consternation; “don’t do that. Come with me to my palace, and I will give you back your Filina—on conditions.” “I won’t make any conditions,” said Kelch, as they walked along; “I want my Filina, and nothing else.” The Golden Goblin grinned angrily at this, but as Kelch had the phial, and could make his subjects vanish, he was afraid to say anything as they glided rapidly along to the palace. It was gliding and not walking, for Kelch found that though his legs did not move, still he seemed to be approaching nearer to the great gold castle in which the Goblin held his court. It was all built of shining gold, with innumerable towers, and huge windows of diamond glass. There was a great flight of steps leading to the front door, and the Goblin ran up these, followed by Kelch, until at length they came to a great hall with many golden pillars, and an immense domed roof all glittering with jewels. The Goblin went to the end of this hall, and, having seated himself upon his throne, which was cut out of one gigantic diamond, he offered Kelch a goblet filled with liquid gold. “I won’t drink that,” said Kelch, and dashed the goblet out of the little man’s hand. “Just as well you refused,” replied the Goblin complacently, pointing to a golden statue that stood near the throne, “or you would have become like that.” Kelch turned to examine the statue, and saw to his grief that it was pretty Filina thus changed. Every hair of her head, every fold of her dress was there, but she was nothing but a stiff golden statue. “I can’t take my Filina back like this,” he cried, turning to the Goblin, who sat on his throne grinning at Kelch’s sorrow. “I don’t mean you to,” retorted the Goblin; “it’s far too valuable a statue to give to you.” “Filina is still more valuable.” “Would you rather have Filina than all that gold?”