All night long she dreamt of her brothers.She and they were children again,playing together.She saw them writing with their diamond pencils on golden slates,while she looked at the beautiful picture-book which had cost half a kingdom.They were not writing lines and letters,as they used to do;but descriptions of the noble deeds they had performed,and of all they had discovered and seen.In the picture-book,too,everything was living.The birds sang,and the people came out of the book,and spoke to Eliza and her brothers;but,as the leaves turned over,they darted back again to their places,that all might be in order.
When she awoke,the sun was high in the heavens;yet she could not see him,for the lofty trees spread their branches thickly over her head;but his beams were glancing through the leaves here and there,like a golden mist.There was a sweet fragrance from the fresh green verdure,and the birds almost perched upon her shoulders.She heard water rippling from a number of springs,all flowing in a lake with golden sands.Bushes grew thickly round the lake,and at one spot an opening had been made by a deer,through which Eliza went down to the water.The lake was so clear that,had not the wind rustled the branches of the trees and the bushes,so that they moved,they would have appeared as if painted in the depths of the lake;for every leaf was reflected in the water,whether it stood in the shade or the sunshine.As soon as Eliza saw her own face,she was quite terrified at finding it so brown and ugly;but when she wetted her little hand,and rubbed her eyes and forehead,the white skin gleamed forth once more;and,after she had undressed,and dipped herself in the fresh water,a more beautiful king's daughter could not be found in the wide world.As soon as she had dressed herself again,and braided her long hair,she went to the bubbling spring,and drank some water out of the hollow of her hand.Then she wandered far into the forest,not knowing whither she went.She thought of her brothers,and felt sure that God would not forsake her.It is God who makes the wild apples grow in the wood,to satisfy the hungry,and He now led her to one of these trees,which was so loaded with fruit,that the boughs bent beneath the weight.Here she held her noonday repast,placed props under the boughs,and then went into the gloomiest depths of the forest.It was so still that she could hear the sound of her own footsteps,as well as the rustling of every withered leaf which she crushed under her feet.Not a bird was to be seen,not a sunbeam could penetrate through the large,dark boughs of the trees.Their lofty trunks stood so close together,that,when she looked before her,it seemed as if she were enclosed within trellis-work.Such solitude she had never known before.The night was very dark.Not a single glow-worm glittered in the moss.
Sorrowfully she laid herself down to sleep;and,after a while,it seemed to her as if the branches of the trees parted over her head,and that the mild eyes of angels looked down upon her from heaven.When she awoke in the morning,she knew not whether she had dreamt this,or if it had really been so.Then she continued her wandering;but she had not gone many steps forward,when she met an old woman with berries in her basket,and she gave her a few to eat.Then Eliza asked her if she had not seen eleven princes riding through the forest.
