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‘I will lie here and rest under this tree,’ he said to his attendants. ‘You can go and shoot instead, and I will just have this slave to stay with me!’ Away they went, and the young man fell asleep, and slept long. Suddenly he was awakened by something wet and salt falling on his face.

‘What is that? Is it raining?’ he said to his slave. ‘Go and look.’

‘No, master, it is not raining,’ answered the slave.

‘Then climb up the tree and see what it is,’ and the slave climbed up, and came back and told his master that a beautiful girl was sitting up there, and that it must have been her tears which had fallen on the face of the king’s son.

‘Why was she crying?’ inquired the prince.

‘I cannot tell–I did not dare to ask her; but perhaps she would tell you.’ And the master, greatly wondering, climbed up the tree.

‘What is the matter with you?’ said he gently, and, as she only sobbed louder, he continued:

‘Are you a woman, or a spirit of the woods?’

‘I am a woman,’ she answered slowly, wiping her eyes with a leaf of the creeper that hung about her.

‘Then why do you cry?’ he persisted.

‘I have many things to cry for,’ she replied, ‘more than you could ever guess.’

‘Come home with me,’ said the prince; ‘it is not very far. Come home to my father and mother. I am a king’s son.’

‘Then why are you here?’ she said, opening her eyes and staring at him.

‘Once every month I and my friends shoot birds in the forest,’ he answered, ‘but I was tired and bade them leave me to rest. And you–what are you doing up in this tree?’

At that she began to cry again, and told the king’s son all that had befallen her since the death of her mother.

‘I cannot come down with you, for I do not like anyone to see me,’ she ended with a sob.

‘Oh! I will manage all that,’ said the king’s son, and swinging himself to a lower branch, he bade his slave go quickly into the town, and bring back with him four strong men and a curtained litter. When the man was gone, the girl climbed down, and hid herself on the ground in some bushes. Very soon the slave returned with the litter, which was placed on the ground close to the bushes where the girl lay.

‘Now go, all of you, and call my attendants, for I do not wish to say here any longer,’ he said to the men, and as soon as they were out of sight he bade the girl get into the litter, and fasten the curtains tightly. Then he got in on the other side, and waited till his attendants came up.

‘What is the matter, O son of a king?’ asked they, breathless with running.

‘I think I am ill; I am cold,’ he said, and signing to the bearers, he drew the curtains, and was carried through the forest right inside his own house.

‘Tell my father and mother that I have a fever, and want some gruel,’ said he, ‘and bid them send it quickly.’

So the slave hastened to the king’s palace and gave his message, which troubled both the king and the queen greatly. A pot of hot gruel was instantly prepared, and carried over to the sick man, and as soon as the council which was sitting was over, the king and his ministers went to pay him a visit, bearing a message from the queen that she would follow a little later.

Now the prince had pretended to be ill in order to soften his parent’s hearts, and the next day he declared he felt better, and, getting into his litter, was carried to the palace in state, drums being beaten all along the road.

He dismounted at the foot of the steps and walked up, a great parasol being held over his head by a slave. Then he entered the cool, dark room where his father and mother were sitting, and said to them: