Once upon a time there lived in the Levant, in a castle surrounded by palm groves, a wealthy nobleman. He was very fond of hunting, and often went out to chase gazelles and boars. But in the wooded mountains which surrounded his estate there were often also tracks of great beasts of prey: bears, panthers, and even lions, and then he could not rest until he had driven away or killed them, and thus rid the country of them. One day lions had again appeared in the neighborhood and destroyed the farmers’ cows and sheep. They came running to the castle with cries of grief, begging for help. The nobleman at once organized a hunt. He soon discovered numerous tracks, which showed that there was a family, perhaps a whole troop of lions. After a sharp pursuit, they succeeded in surrounding the robbers in a valley. There were a terribly large and fierce lion, his lioness, three cubs, and another full-grown lion, perhaps a brother or a friend of the family. When the huge lion saw himself driven into a corner, he said to his wife: “Save yourself and the little ones. I will face the men until you are safe. Then I will follow. If I should fall, remember me, and bring up the cubs to be capable lions.” [340]

“I will stay with you,” cried the other lion, standing, eager for battle, at his side.

“No,” commanded the father of the family. “Cover the retreat of my wife and children. I will fight my battle with the men alone.”

Springing from the bushes with a terrible roar, he dashed at the hunters, thus attracting to himself all the arrows and spears, and the whole pack of dogs also rushed upon him. His companion took advantage of this to lead the lioness and her three cubs out of the [341]valley in the opposite direction. The few beaters who were stationed there moved aside in terror, and when the flying lions had the beaters behind them, they hurried with long leaps up the mountain, on whose other side they would be safe.

The lion which had made the stand had struck down with heavy blows of his mighty paws the first dogs which ventured to rush upon him; but, pierced by numerous wounds, soon fell himself. He yielded up his life with one last roar, which thundered through the valley like a farewell to his fleeing family. Not until he lay dead in his blood on the ground did the hunters look after the other lions, and discovered them on the top of the mountain which they had already reached. Instantly a new and eager chase began, with shouts, winding of horns, and barking of dogs. The lioness and her companions had a considerable start, and could easily have escaped their enemies, but the three cubs could not keep up with them, and fell behind. The hunters and the pack came nearer and nearer, arrows were already whizzing around them, the little ones uttered a whine of fear, and their mother stopped.

“Forward! forward!” roared her companion, sternly.

“I will not leave my children to fall into the hands of human beings,” replied the lioness. Then she quickly but tenderly licked their eyes and noses, saying, “We must carry them, they cannot keep up.”

She seized two in her mouth by the skin at the back [342]of the neck, the devoted friend took the third in the same way, and they continued their flight. The lioness, whose strength was doubled by her maternal love, dashed forward with tremendous bounds. But the male lion was not used to carrying a cub in his mouth, the burden delayed him, and he could not follow the lioness. The hunters were close at his heels, he lost his presence of mind and dropped the cub intrusted to his care, that he might fly faster. This cowardly forgetfulness of duty did not save him. He was struck by several spears, and fell dying. The cub, which was vainly trying with its little soft paws to run after its mother, who was already far away, was instantly surrounded by the pack, which would have made short work of it if their master had not jumped into the middle of the barking, howling, snapping circle and driven the dogs back. Seizing the spitting, scratching little lion, he put it in a bag, and gave the signal with the horn that the hunt was over; for he saw that the lioness had escaped, and he was very well satisfied with having killed two grown lions and captured a lion cub alive. When the lioness saw that the hunters were no longer following her, she lay down with her two rescued little ones to rest and wait for her companion with the third. As he did not come, she bravely set out, after several hours, to look for him, but found only his skinned carcass and no trace of the third little one. She burst into a piercing wail of grief and dragged herself slowly back to the two cubs [343]she had left. This day’s hunt had robbed her of a husband and a child, without counting the friend. Her lamentations for the dead filled all the animals in the desert with terror all night long.

Meanwhile the little lion had been taken to the castle, where all the members of the household gathered around him to admire him. He was the dearest little creature, no larger than a big cat, with fine yellow fur, and a heavy tassel at the end of his tail. At first he behaved badly, biting and scratching everybody who wanted to pat him. But gradually he grew quiet and became trusting and tame. At his age people forget quickly and easily accommodate themselves to changes. His mother and brothers, and the free life in the forests and desert, soon vanished from his memory; he knew only the human beings who fed him liberally and treated him kindly; he willingly allowed himself to be petted, thanking them for it by loud purring and licking with his little rough tongue, and became a favorite with everybody. He slept in his master’s room on soft rugs, played and tussled with the children of the family in the castle courtyard, and ran after the nobleman in his walks like a dog. He had been given the name of Samson, and came obediently when he was called. He considered himself a member of the family and clung to the persons whom he regarded as his relatives with all the warmth of his lion heart.

He was by no means popular with the other domestic [344]animals. The horses snorted and kicked if he put his head into their stable or came near them in the meadow behind the castle, the dogs growled and showed their teeth, the fowls scattered before him, flapping their wings and squawking. He was friendly to them all, but they all repulsed him unkindly. Only the cat was gracious from the beginning and persistently sought his society. She treated him respectfully and addressed him in the tone of an inferior. When he grew larger and became a sensible young lion, she made remarks upon his manner to the other animals. “You ought not to be too familiar with the rabble of horses and dogs,” she said.

“Why not?” asked the lion. “Don’t we all live under the same roof? Are we not companions and friends?”

“No,” replied the cat, “you are a prince, and the others are a race of slaves. You are a lion, and the others are mares and curs. You treat them as your equals, and their gratitude is to hate you. They would gladly kill you.”

“I don’t believe it, cat,” cried the lion, indignantly.

“Yet it is so,” the cat insisted. “To human beings, too, you ought to be more mindful of your dignity as the son of a king. Do not give your heart to them. They will reward your love with ingratitude.”

“Now listen,” growled the lion. “I will not allow you to speak ill of my master and his family. I belong to them and they belong to me; we are one flesh and [345]blood; I have my recognized place in the household, and nothing can separate us.”

The cat bowed humbly and stole sadly away, for the lion turned his back upon her.

Samson grew up to the full size and strength of his species. Yet his disposition did not change; he remained affectionate to the lord of the castle and his wife and children, his playmates, and friendly to all the domestic animals. But gradually they began to treat him differently. The mistress complained that he smelt badly and would not allow him to remain in her room. In order not to hurt his feelings, he was told that he had now grown up, and it was not proper for him to have his bed at night in his mistress’s room. He was given a sleeping place in the kennels; but the dogs declared that he was a stranger and an intruder; they refused to let him stay among them, and to prevent a riot in the pack, they were obliged to assign a special barn to the lion. The nobleman’s children no longer wanted to play with him; for although he submitted to everything from them and lovingly stroked and licked them when they cuffed and pulled him, they were secretly afraid of him. If he asked them to romp with him, according to their custom, in the castle courtyard, they sent him word by a servant that they had no time, they were busy with their teachers. It became uncomfortable for the neighboring landowners to meet him roaming freely about, when they came to the castle, [346]and they accused the owner of carelessness. “Such beasts can never be trusted,” they said; “sooner or later their nature will break out.” They repeated this so often that he at last became uneasy and ordered Samson to be chained. When the servants prepared to obey this direction, the lion uttered a roar, which made them start back as fast as possible. They told their master that Samson rebelled against being confined, and the nobleman went down into the courtyard himself and said, “Be good, Samson, let us adorn you with this little chain.”

“But why?” the lion complained. “What have I done to deserve punishment?”

“It is no punishment,” replied the nobleman soothingly, caressingly placing, as he spoke, the thick, heavy chain around his neck; “it is a distinction. You shall ornament my courtyard by day, and be free at night.”

Samson hung his head and submitted quietly to his master’s will. Now he was a prisoner, scorned and mocked at by all the occupants of the courtyard. The horse kicked out at him as it passed, the dogs barked at him, and did all sorts of naughty things just beyond the reach of his paws, and even the fowls scratched and cackled boldly close in front of his terrible jaws. Samson would not notice it. He made himself believe that all these things were unintentional. “Horses kick because it is their nature,” he said to himself; “it is the nature of dogs to be dirty, and the hens show [349]their touching confidence in me by going on with their affairs just under my nose.” [347]

[349]

At night he was always released from his chain and walked around the castle walls, as a tireless watcher, until the morning. Neither enemy nor evil-doer dared to come near when he saw on the top of the wall, or behind the battlements of the tower, in the moonlight, his huge figure outlined against the dark sky, or on moonless nights heard the thunder of his voice. On hunting days, too, the lord of the castle unfastened Samson’s chain and took him with him. Then the lion conquered for him boars, aurochs, and bears, dragged the prey in his mouth to the castle, and did work which otherwise would have required twenty brave and strong huntsmen. And when it was all over, he patiently let the chain be put on again, licked the aching wounds which he had received in the battle with the strongest and most dangerous animals in the wilderness, and rejoiced that he had again been able to be useful to his master.

Then the house cat stole up to him and whispered in his ear: “Prince, now you see how they treat you! You ought not to submit to this unworthy fate any longer!”

“Unworthy fate? That, adorned with a magnificent chain, I am placed beside the gate as the most beautiful ornament of the castle?”

“Ah, Prince, you do not believe that yourself. Use the liberty which is given you; they want to profit by [350]your strength in hunting! Stay in the forest! Remember that your home is there, that there you are master!”

But the lion started up and answered fiercely: “Not another word, or I’ll break your neck. My home is here in the castle. I am the kinsman and companion of its owners, and will not listen to your senseless tattle.”

Meanwhile his mother had never forgotten him. She mourned him for years and always remained in the neighborhood, because she hoped some time to learn what had happened to him after he had fallen into the hands of human beings. When the rumor began to spread among the animals of the woods and the wilderness that the lord of the castle was using a lion to help him in hunting, a lion, which, contrary to all justice and custom, attacked the sons of the desert and wrought more havoc among them than twenty men, it finally reached her ears also, and she rejoiced loudly, though the monkeys, peacocks, and gazelles brought the story to her in perplexity and anger. Her mother heart instantly suspected that the hunting lion of the castle lord was her own lost son, and she bade one of the two sons who had remained with her to make inquiries, and to try whether he could not approach his brother and bring him back to his family.

The lion set out one dark night, trotted swiftly over the desert, across the mountains, and through the forest to the palm grove, stole cautiously through it to [351]the wall around the castle, and was just preparing, by the exertion of all his strength, to leap over it, when a terrible voice from above thundered, “Who goes there?” At the same instant he saw two large, fiery eyes glaring at him from the darkness.

The voice, which would have filled any other living creature with fright, made his heart throb joyfully, for he recognized it as that of one of his own kin. “A good friend!” he called back in a subdued tone; “come down to me, if you are free, and, if not, I will come up to you and set you at liberty.”

“Of course I am free,” replied the lion on the top of the wall, proudly; “but who are you?”

“I am a lion like yourself; more, I am your brother, your own flesh and blood. I have come to take you back to our mother, from whom men stole you when you were very small, and who has never ceased to mourn for you.”

“You lie!” the lion called back from the wall. “I am no lion, but an inhabitant of the castle; my brothers are the sons of the lord and lady of the castle. I have no others. Begone, or it will be the worse for you!”

The blood of the lion at the foot of the wall began to boil with rage. “Scoundrel!” he shouted angrily. “You have no lion soul. You have become a cowardly slave of man. Once more: will you return to us, or shall we finally thrust you out of our community?”

Samson uttered a roar, which echoed horribly from the [352]distant mountains, “Begone, if you value your life!” His thundering voice waked all the inmates of the castle, the dogs began to bark furiously, people began to move about in all the rooms, weapons clanked, doors banged; the lion outside heard these threatening noises and thought it advisable to retreat. He hastened back through the forests and across the mountains to his mother in the desert, and reported the failure of his mission.

The lioness listened to his story with deep feeling. “I know now that my child is living. That is the main thing. We must not wonder that he is estranged from us. The cunning of men has poisoned his young mind. But it cannot be difficult to make the voice of blood speak. You did not understand how to manage him. I will go and talk with him myself. You shall see that I will bring you a brother who will be glad to have found his relatives again.”

She scarcely waited for night to close in before she set out for the castle. Her two sons and several neighbors and friends followed at a short distance, to aid her in case of danger. The lion was keeping watch that night even more carefully than usual, saw her coming a long distance off, and shouted a fierce “Halt!” before she had reached the foot of the castle wall.

The lioness’s strong heart trembled when she heard the challenge. She recognized the father’s voice in [353]the son’s. “Your mother has come to take you home. My son, come down! Let me lick your dear face.”

“You are talking nonsense,” replied the lion, roughly. “I don’t know you. I am Samson, the comrade of men, and have nothing in common with such people as you. If you were not a woman, I would show you that I am not to be insulted with impunity.”

“Is this the way you speak to your mother, who has mourned you for years?”

“The devil is your son, not I,” Samson answered.

“Is it possible,” groaned the lioness, “you deny your own blood, you forget your origin, you shame the memory of your glorious father, who died for you? You cast off your mother, you serve the men who killed your father, and are your worst enemies—”

Samson’s only answer was to roar: “Loose the dogs! Send out the archers! The foe!”

The lioness saw that further efforts were useless, and she went back to the wilderness in bitter grief.

The next morning, when the lord of the castle put on Samson’s chain, as usual, he scolded him sharply.

“You must be crazy to make such a terrible racket as you have done for the last two nights. You roused us all out of our sleep.”

“Forgive me, master,” replied Samson, humbly; “there were lions around the castle with evil designs. I was obliged to do my duty as watchman.” [354]

“Lions?” asked the nobleman, looking at Samson, suspiciously.

“Yes, my lord,” answered Samson; “and I advise you to arrange a great hunt without delay to destroy the band of robbers.”

The lord of the castle went out of the gate, searched in the neighborhood of the walls, and soon found numerous lion tracks on the ground. He called the neighbors together, they appeared with their packs of hounds in the castle courtyard, and set out with great tumult, shouting, and barking of dogs for the hunt. Samson waited vainly to be set free from his chain. When the lord of the castle passed him, he cried: “And I? Am I not going with you?”

“We shall hunt lions to-day,” replied the lord of the castle.

“That is just why I want to go,” said Samson.

“But they are your relatives,” observed the nobleman, “and it might be painful for you—”

Samson, deeply offended, interrupted: “My relatives? Have I deserved this from you? Do I no longer belong to you? What have I in common with the lion rabble? I beg you to let me share the hunt. You must not refuse me.”

“As you choose,” muttered the castle lord, and reluctantly unfastened the chain.

Samson was no sooner free than he sprang out of the gate with tremendous bounds and rushed to the head [355]of the hunters. Always far in advance of all the others, he followed with impatient haste for hours the tracks leading through the desert, until he had overtaken the lions. When he saw the troop of fugitives, fresh ardor for battle seemed to seize upon him, and he dashed forward with such fierce eagerness that the dogs and the hunters could not keep up with him. He reached the lions almost alone, and with open jaws and a tremendous roar sprang with a mighty bound into the very midst of their group. They instantly surrounded him, fiercely attacked him, struck him to the earth with heavy blows from their paws, and tore his body with teeth and claws, while his brothers shouted in fury, “Death to the traitor!”

But before they could wound him dangerously, his mother was at his side roaring to his assailants, “Back! back!” Then she turned to Samson, who lay bleeding on the ground with foaming jaws: “Go back to your men, if you find your happiness with them. I lose you to-day for the second time. Go! go!” Without a single glance behind she continued her flight, the other lions followed her, and all soon disappeared beyond the mountains.

Meanwhile the pack had reached Samson, who was left alone. In the heat of the chase, they either did not recognize him or pretended not to do so, and pressed upon him thirsting for blood. He was still dazed by the recent battle, and the sudden attack of his [356]hunting companions so astonished him, that he made no movement to defend himself. In an instant ten bloodhounds were hanging to each paw, six to his tail, eight to his ears, mane, and lips. He could only utter one piteous call for help, then he died under the bites of countless greedy teeth. His mother heard his death-cry at a long distance and returned without delay to help him. She came too late to save her son and could only share his fate. When the lord of the castle reached the spot, both lions were dead. He could do nothing but drive away the dogs, that they might not tear them to pieces and spoil their skins.

The nobleman had these made into a cover for his bed and a rug, and when afterward he had guests who were strangers, he proudly showed them the magnificent skins, and told them all the details of the history of the lions, one of which, amid great peril, he had captured partly with his own hand and made his chained slave, and the other he had killed in battle. Then the listeners admired his courage and praised him for his brave deeds. [357]

Once upon a time a student took a summer journey through Switzerland. As a good gymnast, he was a bold and skilful mountain climber, who liked to scale the steepest cliffs and the highest peaks. In many ways he was an excellent young fellow; but he had no regard for animals and plants, which enjoy their lives as well as we, and do not harm human beings. This was very strange because he was a forester’s son, and people who live in the woods are usually fond of everything that blooms and runs and flies, except toadstools and beasts of prey. When he lived at his father’s house, the student shot squirrels and crows, often even cuckoos and thrushes, which enliven the silent forest with their calls and songs.

In Switzerland he would have liked to kill chamois and marmots; but he did not see these pretty creatures except in the zoölogical garden, where they were safe from his murderous gun. So he vented his love of destruction on the poor, defenceless flowers. If he came to an Alpine meadow, he behaved like a savage. He gathered all the blossoms he could reach, not a few to put in his hat, not to dry one or another to keep as a [360]memento of the beautiful days of travel, not even to give to beloved friends or acquaintances, but from pure wantonness. He pulled them by dozens, by hundreds, till he had an immense bunch, which he carried for a while until he grew tired, and then merely threw it away.

He was especially fond of plucking Alpine roses and edelweiss, not only because they are particularly beautiful, but because they grow in places very hard to climb, so it needs much strength, skill, and courage to reach them.

One day he had again climbed the mountains with alpenstock and knapsack, and came to the border line of the perpetual snow. Below him lay the dark pine woods and the sunny pastures, on which cows with tinkling bells were grazing. He could only hear the distant sound, but did not see the cattle, the meadow, and the huts of the herdsmen, for he was far above the clouds and they concealed everything below. Before him was a steep field, completely covered with Alpine roses. Here and there an edelweiss raised its velvety, star-shaped blossom above the green grass. The student tore up all the flowers he saw, the single ones, those growing in bunches, the full-blown blossoms, the partly opened ones, and the buds. All were stuffed into his knapsack, which was soon filled. After spending an hour in this way, there were no more flowers to pick. The field, which had looked like a carpet richly embroidered with gold and silver, was now entirely green. [361]

He looked around to try to discover a few more victims, and saw at some distance above him a large rock, which projected like a huge nose from the precipice. This boulder was completely covered with the most beautiful edelweiss. He had never seen so many of these wonderful blossoms in one place. It seemed as though they had fled there to find a refuge where they would be safe from the pursuit of hostile men, for it was almost impossible to reach them. The overhanging rock was connected with the mountain only by a narrow ridge like a bridge, and even this was so steep and rough that it would have been difficult even for a chamois to cross it.

“Aha, there’s something for me!” cried the student, joyously, and at once prepared to risk the dangerous crossing and reach the rock, where he meant to seize the edelweiss. But he had scarcely touched the narrow [362]ridge, where he could only move forward on his hands and knees, when he suddenly saw a woman’s figure. Raising her finger in warning, she called loudly, “Stop!”

He stood up and stared at her in astonishment. Where could she have come from? he wondered. Had she perhaps been lying in the tall grass so that he did not see her? Her appearance was rather unlike other women. She was dainty, delicate rather than strong, small rather than large. She wore a full white silk gown over a green petticoat, and her little silvery white feet were bare. In her golden hair was a wreath of the most beautiful flowers of every color. In spite of her anger, her face was very lovely, and she was surrounded by a delicious perfume like the fragrance of roses, lilies, violets, and carnations, which could be noticed at a considerable distance.

The student quickly recovered from his surprise and took a step forward. But the stranger cried a second time: “Stop! No farther!”

“Why not?” he asked insolently. “Does this mountain belong to you?”

“Back!” she called, without answering his question, “you have nothing to do here.”

“You are very familiar,” he replied scornfully; “perhaps we know each other?” [363]

[362]

“I know you,” said the stranger. “You are a wicked man. You are a murderer of the flowers. Look at your knapsack! It is filled with blossoms which you [365]have cruelly killed. But you shall at least leave me these edelweiss. Why do you pursue them here? Cannot they be safe, even thus high above the world, from your designs?”

“I will not answer you in the same familiar way,” replied the student, merrily; “for it is my habit to be courteous to young ladies. But I shall not turn back for your sermon, excellent as it is. The flowers are for human beings. I want these edelweiss, and I shall do whatever I choose with them.”

He again began to climb and creep forward. The stranger drew back before him, exclaiming, “You will repent it.” He only laughed and soon reached the projecting rock. The white-robed girl was standing in the midst of the edelweiss, which were turning their silvery stars toward her from every direction as if imploring her aid.

“Let me warn you for the last time,” she cried; “do not sin against me and my flowers!”

The young man’s only answer was to break off a number of the finest edelweiss and offer the bouquet, with a mocking bow, to the beautiful, angry girl. She dealt him a light blow on the hand. It was as if a butterfly had brushed him with its wings in passing; but a shock darted like lightning through fingers and arm to the shoulder, and he was obliged to drop the flowers as if paralyzed.

“You have pronounced your own sentence. Go; [366]before the day is over your punishment will overtake you,” she said solemnly, and before he could make any reply she had vanished.

Fear suddenly seized him, and he hurried as fast as he could away from the mysterious rock with the edelweiss, down to the pasture where the cows with the tinkling bells were grazing. He felt relieved when he saw the herdsman, asked for a drink of milk, and told him the strange adventure he had just had.

The herdsman listened intently, and said: “Do you know who that was? It was the Flower Queen.”

“What? Have you a Flower Queen in free Switzerland?” asked the student, forcing a jesting tone.

“Don’t mock,” replied the herdsman, very gravely. “She is powerful, and it is not wise to make her angry.”

The student wished to inquire still farther, and went on: “Queer that the royal lady runs about barefoot! Doesn’t she catch cold up here? Or is she trying the Kneipp cure?”

The herdsman cast a sullen look at him, turned his back, and went into his hut, whose door he banged loudly behind him. The student said no more and continued his way down the mountain.

True, he did not exactly believe the story of the Flower Queen and her power, yet he could not conquer a feeling of anxiety, and was much more careful in climbing than usual. He reached the little town at the foot of the mountains without accident, went to his hotel, [367]flung the knapsack with the Alpine flowers carelessly into a corner of his room, and dressed for dinner.

When he opened his door to go to the dining room, he suddenly stood still in astonishment. In the corridor was a dense mass of flowers, which formed a ring around him. There were Alpine roses and edelweiss, gentians, rhododendrons, and violets, such as he had gathered in his love of destruction in the meadow above. And not only these, but tall, proud lilies and irises, modest forget-me-nots and primroses, fragrant jasmines and scentless corn-flowers and poppies, which he was in the habit of tearing up or breaking with his cane in his walks through the fields and meadows. He rubbed his eyes. His senses must be deceiving him. He had never seen these flowers in the passage before. To convince himself of their reality, he stepped forward and stretched his hand toward them. The flowers drew back the same distance, and were beyond his reach. He turned toward the side—the same thing happened. The flowers moved away before him and followed behind. Not until he almost struck the wall with his nose did the blossoms vanish before him; but wherever there was room for them on the floor to remain at the proper distance, they stood in close ranks about him. The flower circle moved with him, swiftly or slowly, as he walked quickly or slowly, stopped when he stopped, kept always at the same distance, and opened only when it met a wall or some similar obstruction. [368]

“Hocus-pocus,” he muttered, turning on his heel to convince himself that he was shut in on all sides. After a moment’s thought, he shrugged his shoulders, thinking: “What harm will it do me? On the contrary, it is very amusing to be accompanied by a guard of flowers.”

He now went downstairs to the dining hall, where many other persons had gathered. He had secretly hoped that he was the only person who saw the ring of flowers, and it would be invisible to every one else. But he found at once that this was by no means the case. He had scarcely entered, surrounded by his moving circle of blossoms, when all the guests stopped eating and stared at him. Some half rose from their seats to see better, others even left them and came nearer. One little girl cried out, “Oh, look at the lovely flowers which are moving near us!” ran to the ring, and tried to gather a lily. But her hand grasped only the empty air, and running back to her mother, she hid her face in the folds of her gown, afraid of these [369]queer flowers which the eye saw, yet the fingers could not touch.

The student pretended not to notice the stir in the dining room, and rapped for the waiter. The man came, started at the sight of the flowers which surrounded the guest and his table, and at first seemed to wish to climb over them. After a short hesitation, he changed his mind, and without heeding the student’s impatient calls he went quickly to the head waiter to tell him the extraordinary thing which he had just seen. The head waiter told the proprietor of the hotel, and the latter went himself to the student, toward whom all eyes were turned.

“Sir,” said the landlord, “we cannot have any jugglery here. I beg you to stop this trick.”

“I won’t allow you to say such things to me,” cried the student, excitedly. “I’m no juggler, I am a student.”

“Then put a stop to this flower show,” ordered the hotel keeper, sternly.

The student only shrugged his shoulders, muttering impatiently, “I cannot.”

“In that case,” replied the hotel-keeper, “I must ask you to leave my house at once.”

“Very well,” answered the student, “I’ll go early to-morrow morning. But give me something to eat now, for I’ve been climbing among the mountains all day and am hungry.” [370]

“No, you’ll get nothing here, and I can’t keep you till to-morrow,” said the hotel-keeper, resolutely.

The student could do nothing but rise and leave the dining room, still surrounded by his flower ring, which steadily kept pace with him. When he reached his chamber and began to pack, he found his knapsack empty. All the flowers with which he had filled it had disappeared.

He was obliged to carry his baggage himself, for no hotel servant or porter would be seen in the street with him and his moving circle of flowers. Children and grown people ran after him with shouts, and at every hotel where he went with his escort of flowers and yelling street-urchins he was refused admittance. He could get neither a warm supper nor a bed, and had nothing to do except, late in the evening, to take a train and leave the inhospitable little city.

He had scarcely entered the station when the flowers vanished. He uttered a sigh of relief, for he thought he was freed from his flower prison. The Flower Queen, he believed gleefully, probably only had power in her mountain and in the valley at its foot. It went no farther. But he was very much mistaken, as he was soon to discover. The flowers had disappeared only because, in the narrow space, whose walls he could reach everywhere by stretching out his hands and feet, there was no room for their circle. But he had scarcely gone out after a very uncomfortable night, scarcely set foot on [371]the broad steps of the station, when the ring closed around him and moved on at the same pace.

Fury seized him and he hurled his long alpenstock into the midst of the thick, fresh blossoms. Like lightning they swayed far apart, though without separating, and the staff did not touch them. When, grinding his teeth, he picked it up, the gap closed, and the circle was as regular as before. He saw that it would do no good to act like a crazy man. The flower prison was securely fastened. He could not escape from it. All the running, leaping, striking, and throwing missiles was useless. The flowers were more nimble than he, and the distance between him and the wide hedge of living flowers never changed.

He actually hated the bright blossoms, whose beauty seemed to mock him, and shut his eyes so that he could not see them. But he could smell their perfume, and the delicious fragrance would not let him forget them for a moment. To escape, he took the only way which [372]had proved possible. Amid the stares of all the people in the railroad station, he went on the first train and travelled without stopping home to his father, the forester.

When the forester saw his son surrounded by his guard of rare and common flowers, mountain and field blossoms, he remained motionless with amazement, and could scarcely find words to ask, “Boy, what does this mean?”

The student told him how the ring had suddenly sprung up around him, and had left him only in the railroad station; but did not mention his destruction of the Alpine blossoms and his meeting with the Flower Queen.

“Oh, father,” he pleaded, after he had finished his story, “help me, tell me how I can escape from this flower prison. If I don’t get rid of it, it will be impossible for me to live among human beings.”

The forester thought a long time, then he said: “I have never seen such a thing, and don’t understand it. But so far as I know, flowers don’t bloom here in the winter. It will soon be autumn. Stay in the house till the frost comes. That will probably kill your blossoms, unless all the laws of nature fail.”

This was a happy thought. The student threw his arms around his wise father’s neck. He was obliged to interrupt his studies, for he could not return to the university. But he tried to have patience. Four months [373]would soon be over, then Christmas would come, and his misery would be ended.

To shut out the unbearable sight of the flowers, he locked himself into an attic room, which was almost as small as a closet. No prison could be so uncomfortable as this tiny chamber. But he preferred to be surrounded by board walls, rather than by the moving circle of flowers. He ventured out of his hiding place only on dark nights to stretch his stiff limbs a trifle by a walk through the forest, and to breathe a little fresh air. He did not mind running against trees and stumbling over stumps and roots. He preferred anything, even bruises, bumps, and aching limbs, to his prison of flowers. Yet even during the darkest nights they did not remain wholly invisible; for besides the fragrance, a faint light came from the blossoms, and they shone around him like an army of glow-worms.

He found the time very long, but it gradually passed, and Christmas came. The winter proved unusually severe. The snow lay heaped breast-high, and in the December nights one could hear the boughs, outside cracking in the forest. After a very cold night, the student ventured out into the forest early in the morning. He had scarcely passed the door of the house when the circle of flowers closed around him. He waded through the deep snow, muttering grimly, “Just wait a little while, this will finish you.” He stayed in the woods until he was almost frozen. His nose was blue, his ears [374]were stiff, his fingers like ice; but the flowers did not seem to be injured by the cold, and were as fresh and fragrant on the snow as if it were the loveliest May day. So, after several hours of suffering, the student went back to the forest house, and with chattering teeth said, “Father, the frost will kill me before it harms those hateful flowers.”

“Yes, my poor boy,” replied his father, sadly, “and now my knowledge is over. Think for yourself till you find some way to break this magic spell.”

The student shut himself up again in his tiny garret room, and thought of his misfortune and how he could escape from it. At last he had an idea. Perhaps his father was right; the cold must surely kill the flowers, only the frost was not severe enough here. Suppose he should go to the north pole, or as near it as he could get? He would see whether the blossoms would stand it there too.

No sooner was this plan thought of than it was done. His preparations were soon made, and that very evening he left his home to go through the fog and darkness to take the train in the nearest city. For several days he travelled without stopping straight toward the north, as far as the railroad went, then he went on board a whaler, which carried him far up into the icy seas, and did not leave the vessel until the frozen water would allow no farther passage. But he had scarcely set his foot upon the boundless plain of ice when the whole [375]circlet of flowers sprang up on it and moved along with him as gayly as ever, blossoming as brightly about him as if the mildest spring breeze was stirring their petals.

This time the student determined to defy them. He set forth, dragging after him a little sledge loaded with provisions, thinking spitefully how much the blossoms would suffer in the fierce winter cold. The northern lights alone brightened the gloomy, pathless wilderness of ice; the polar bears often trotted up to him, but stopped when they saw the unknown flowers, and dared not cross their circle. For a week the young man bore all the discomforts of the polar night; the cold, and the tiresome tramping over the rough ice; then he saw that the flowers were not harmed in the least, and discouraged and disheartened he gave up the trial. Now he attempted to find a [376]ship again. It was not easy, and when, after many anxious days, he at last discovered one, he sailed back, always keeping shut in his cabin, to Hamburg.

What was to be done next? The flowers could bear the most severe cold without injury; he knew that. Perhaps drought and a hot sun would be worse for them. He determined to go at once to the desert of Sahara, where no plant can live. Over land and sea, in cars and ships, he hastened to Africa, and made his way into the wilderness as fast as he could. When the camels saw his ring of flowers, they dashed madly up to feed on them. But they only bit the empty air, and looked so disappointed and astonished that the student would have laughed heartily if he had felt inclined to be merry. The Bedouins, too, gathered around the stranger, staring in wonder at the magnificent flowers on the burning yellow sand, where they had never seen even a blade of grass or a tiny green leaf. Then they threw themselves in the dust before him, believing that he must be some great magician. They invited him into their tents, entertained him with milk and dates, and made him understand that they wanted him to be their chief.

The flowers throve in the heat of the desert just as well as in the ice at the pole. The student soon saw this. But here they attracted flattering notice, and instead of making him miserable brought him dignity and honor. He became accustomed to the thought of spending his life among the Bedouins as their lord and ruler. Under [377]such pleasant circumstances his flower prison did not trouble him, and he snapped his fingers at the Flower Queen. It was hard to give up his home; but he was still young, and who could tell what might happen.

But his comfort did not last long. The former ruler, whom the Bedouins had removed on his account, plotted to ruin his successor. He persuaded the oldest men of the tribe to ask the Father of the Flowers, as they called the student, for a perpetually flowing spring and frequent rain for their oasis. They followed the crafty Bedouin’s advice. The student, though he could not understand a word of Arabic, knew very well what they wanted, and replied that he could not fulfil their wish. They did not believe it, for a magician who could make a thick, fresh hedge of flowers grow out of the sand of the desert must surely be able to give them a spring and rain if he only would. His refusal was nothing but sheer malice, for which they would punish him. They agreed to kill him in the night. A Bedouin woman, who pitied the young foreigner, warned him in time, and with her help he escaped in the twilight.

The glory of ruling and the pleasant life were again over. In despair he returned to Europe, and when he reached the coast of the Mediterranean, he asked himself whether it would not be the wisest thing he could do to jump into the sea and end his imprisonment by death. But when he was preparing for this wicked act, a secret voice said: “Perhaps I can soothe the Flower [378]Queen. She looked so young and lovely. She cannot be pitiless.”

He summoned fresh courage and again travelled day and night, over sea and land, until he reached Switzerland and the foot of the mountain chain, where the misfortune had overtaken him. Still surrounded by the circle of flowers, he climbed with his knapsack to the pine-wood and the pasture up above the clouds to the steep hillside, saw the projecting rock, with the dense growth of edelweiss, and with a throbbing heart climbed across the narrow ridge to the overhanging boulder. He had scarcely stepped on it when the Flower Queen stood before him, looked sternly at him, and exclaimed, “Are you here again?”

At the same moment his ring of blossoms scattered, all the flowers hastened to their Queen, surrounding and nestling closely to her, and for the first time in many months he was free from his prison, even in the open air.

Kneeling before the Flower Queen, he raised his hands beseechingly and said humbly: “Fair Queen, be content with my punishment. Forgive the crime I committed against you and your flowers, and which I deeply repent.”

She was silent a short time, and then replied, “Repentance is not enough; I demand atonement.”

“What shall I do to atone?” he asked anxiously.

“Look at this slope below us. It resembled a gay carpet. Now it is wholly green, not a single blossom adorns it. You must plant it with flowers again. When [379]you have made it as gay as it was before, the punishment shall be taken from you.”

The student wanted to ask her how he should set to work, but she disappeared, and his flower prison, which had separated, once more closed around him. He went back to the field, sat down on the grass, and wondered how he should begin to plant flowers here. Suddenly a thought darted through his brain. He started up and stretched his hand toward the circle of flowers. Lo!—it did not move back, his hand did not grasp the air, but seized a beautiful clump of Alpine violets, which quietly allowed him to hold them. He pulled gently—the violets, with all their delicate roots, remained in his hand. True, there was no gap in the ring, another flower sprang up in the place of the clump of violets. Digging a hole in the ground with his penknife and his fingers, he planted the violets and moved away several steps. His ring of flowers followed, but the violets remained.

Now he knew enough. He hurried down to the little city, bought, amid the stares of the people, gardening tools and provisions enough to last for some time, and went back to the field above the clouds. From dawn till twilight he worked with the greatest industry, dug hole after hole, took flower after flower from his ring, planted them, watered them abundantly from a neighboring spring, and scarcely allowed himself fifteen minutes rest for his scanty meals. [380]

Three or four weeks passed, a large portion of the field was again gay with beautiful flowers growing thickly together, when to his intense joy he noticed that the flowers which he still drew from his ring were no longer replaced with others. The circular hedge first grew narrower, then gaps appeared, then one-quarter, one-half, three-quarters vanished, and one day he put the last blossom in the earth, and there was nothing more left of the ring. He knelt again and called aloud, “Oh, Queen, are you satisfied with my work?”

But the Flower Queen did not appear, only a strange movement ran through the countless blossoms in the field, as though they were all nodding their lovely little heads.

The student picked up his knapsack and went down to the valley. He cast stolen glances around him on the way, but no flower followed. He was really free from his prison of blossoms, and could again live with other men.

But while planting the Alpine meadow he had gained such a taste for gardening that he resolved to devote himself to this profession. So he became a very famous florist, and several beautiful varieties of flowers, which he introduced from foreign countries, still bear his name. [381]