Soothly a merry life hast thou had as a child, and
merry now would be thy life, save for thine hatred
of me. Into a lovely lily-lass hast thou grown.
That I tell thee now, though my wont has been to gird
at thee for the fashion of thy body; that was but
the word of the mistress to the thrall. And
now what awaiteth thee? For thou mayst say:
I am lonely here, and there is no man to look on me.
Of what avail, therefore, is my goodliness and shapeliness?
Child, I answer thee that the time is coming when
thou shalt see here a many of the fairest of men,
and then shalt thou be rather rose than lily, and
fully come to womanhood; and all those shall love and
worship thee, and thou mayst gladden whom thou wilt,
and whom thou wilt mayst sadden; and no lack soever
shalt thou have of the sweetness of love, or the glory
of dominion.
Think of it then! All this is for thee if thou
dwell here quietly with me, doing my will till thy
womanhood hath blossomed. Wherefore I beseech
and pray thee put out of thy mind the thought of fleeing
from me. For if thou try it, one of two things
shall be: either I shall bring thee back and
slay thee, or make thee live in misery of torment;
or else thou wilt escape, and then what will it be?
Dost thou know how it shall go with thee, coming
poor and nameless, an outcast, into the world of men?
Lust shalt thou draw unto thee, but scarce love.
I say an outcast shalt thou be, without worship or
dominion; thy body shall be a prey to ribalds, and
when the fine flower thereof hath faded, thou shalt
find that the words of thy lovers were but mockery.
That no man shall love thee, and no woman aid thee.
Then shall Eld come to thee and find thee at home
with Hell; and Death shall come and mock thee for
thy life cast away for nought, for nought. This
is my word to thee: and now I have nought to
do to thee save to change thee thy skin, and therein
must thou do as thou canst, but it shall be no ugly
or evil shape at least. But another time maybe
I shall not be so kind as to give thee a new shape,
but shall let thee wander about seen by none but me.
Then she took the cup and took water in the hollow
of her hand and cast it into Birdalone’s face,
and muttered words withal; and presently she saw herself
indeed, that she was become a milk-white hind; and
she heard and saw again, but not as she, the maiden,
was wont to hear and see; for both her hearing and
seeing and her thought was of a beast and not of a
maiden.
Said the witch-wife: It is done now, till I
give thee grace again; and now be off into the field;
but if thou stray more than half a bowshot from the
brook, it shall be the worse for thee. And now
the day was done and night was come.
CHAPTER XIII. BIRDALONE MEETETH THE WOOD-WOMAN AGAIN
It was fifteen days thereafter that Birdalone awoke
lying in her bed on a bright morning, as if all this
had been but a dream. But the witch-wife was
standing over her and crying out: Thou art late,
slug-a-bed, this fair-weather day, and the grass all
spoiling for lack of the scythe. Off! and down
to the meadow with thee.
