The high hedge hid him from the house, now; and so,
under the impulse of a deadly fright, he let out all
his forces and sped toward a wood in the distance.
He never looked back until he had almost gained the
shelter of the forest; then he turned and descried
two figures in the distance. That was sufficient;
he did not wait to scan them critically, but hurried
on, and never abated his pace till he was far within
the twilight depths of the wood. Then he stopped;
being persuaded that he was now tolerably safe.
He listened intently, but the stillness was profound
and solemn —awful, even, and depressing
to the spirits. At wide intervals his straining
ear did detect sounds, but they were so remote, and
hollow, and mysterious, that they seemed not to be
real sounds, but only the moaning and complaining
ghosts of departed ones. So the sounds were yet
more dreary than the silence which they interrupted.
It was his purpose, in the beginning, to stay where
he was the rest of the day; but a chill soon invaded
his perspiring body, and he was at last obliged to
resume movement in order to get warm. He struck
straight through the forest, hoping to pierce to a
road presently, but he was disappointed in this.
He travelled on and on; but the farther he went,
the denser the wood became, apparently. The gloom
began to thicken, by-and-by, and the King realised
that the night was coming on. It made him shudder
to think of spending it in such an uncanny place; so
he tried to hurry faster, but he only made the less
speed, for he could not now see well enough to choose
his steps judiciously; consequently he kept tripping
over roots and tangling himself in vines and briers.
And how glad he was when at last he caught the glimmer
of a light! He approached it warily, stopping
often to look about him and listen. It came
from an unglazed window-opening in a shabby little
hut. He heard a voice, now, and felt a disposition
to run and hide; but he changed his mind at once,
for this voice was praying, evidently. He glided
to the one window of the hut, raised himself on tiptoe,
and stole a glance within. The room was small;
its floor was the natural earth, beaten hard by use;
in a corner was a bed of rushes and a ragged blanket
or two; near it was a pail, a cup, a basin, and two
or three pots and pans; there was a short bench and
a three-legged stool; on the hearth the remains of
a faggot fire were smouldering; before a shrine, which
was lighted by a single candle, knelt an aged man,
and on an old wooden box at his side lay an open book
and a human skull. The man was of large, bony
frame; his hair and whiskers were very long and snowy
white; he was clothed in a robe of sheepskins which
reached from his neck to his heels.
“A holy hermit!” said the King to himself;
“now am I indeed fortunate.”
The hermit rose from his knees; the King knocked.
A deep voice responded—
