Part 8 (1/2)
”Well, lady, I have no objection just to look at the little gold wand, and see if it is worth anything.”
”But I am not sure that I could part with it,” said Hulda.
”Very well,” replied the pedlar, ”as you please; but I may as well look at it. I should hope these beautiful things need not go begging.” As he spoke he began carefully to lock up some of the jewels in their little boxes, as if he meant to go away.
”Oh, don't go,” cried Hulda. ”I am going up-stairs to fetch my wand. I shall not be long; pray wait for me.”
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”'OH, DON'T GO,' CRIED HULDA. 'I AM GOING UP-STAIRS TO FETCH MY WAND.'”]
Nothing was further from the pedlar's thought than to go away, and while little Hulda was running up to look for the wand he panted so hard for fear that after all he might not be able to get it that he woke the other hound, who came up to him, and smelt his leg.
”What sort of a creature is this?” said the old hound to his companion, speaking, of course, in the dogs' language.
”I'm sure I can't say,” answered the other. ”I wonder what he is made of,--he smells of mushrooms! quite earthy, I declare! as if he had lived underground all his life.”
”Let us stand one on each side of him, and watch that he doesn't steal anything.”
So the two dogs stood staring at him; but the pedlar was too cunning for them. He looked out of the window, and said, ”I think I see the master coming,” upon which they both turned to look across the heath, and the pedlar s.n.a.t.c.hed up the opal ring, and hid it in his vest. When they turned around he was folding up his trinkets again as calmly as possible. ”One cannot be too careful to count one's goods,” he said, gravely. ”Honest people often get cheated in houses like these, and honest as these two dogs look, I know where one of them hid that leg-of-mutton bone that he stole yesterday!” Upon hearing this the dogs sneaked under the table ashamed of themselves. ”I would not have it on my conscience that I robbed my master for the best bone in the world,”
continued the pedlar, and as he said this he took up a little silver horn belonging to the lord of the castle, and, having tapped it with his knuckle to see whether the metal was pure, folded it up in cotton, and put it in his pack with the rest of his curiosities.
Presently Hulda came down with a little box in her hand, out of which she took the fairy's wand.
The pedlar was so transported at the sight of it that he could scarcely conceal his joy; but he knew that unless he could get it by fair means it would be of no use to him.
”How dim it looks!” said little Hulda; ”the stones used to be so very bright when first I had it.”
”Ah! that is a sign that the person who gave it you is dead,” said the deceitful pedlar.
”I am sorry to hear she is dead,” said Hulda, with a sigh. ”Well, then, pedlar, as that is the case, I will part with the wand if you can give me one of your fine bracelets instead of it.”
The pedlar's hand trembled with anxiety as he held it out for the wand, but the moment he had got possession of it all his politeness vanished.
”There,” he said, ”you have got a very handsome bracelet in your hand.
It is worth a great deal more than the wand. You may keep it. I have no time to waste; I must be gone.” So saying, he hastily s.n.a.t.c.hed up the rest of his jewels, thrust them into his pack, and slung it over his shoulder, leaving Hulda looking after him with the bracelet in her hand.
She saw him walk rapidly along the heath till he came to a gravel-pit, very deep, and with overhanging sides. He swung himself over by the branches of the trees.
”What can he be going to do there?” she said to herself. ”But I will run after him, for I don't like this bracelet half so well as some of the others.”
So Hulda ran till she came to the edge of the gravel-pit, but was so much surprised that she could not say a word. There were the great footmarks made by the pedlar down the steep sides of the pit; and at the bottom she saw him sitting in the mud, digging a hole with his hands.
”Hi!” he said, putting his head down. ”Some of you come up. I've got the wand at last. Come and help me down with my pack.”
”I'm coming,” answered a voice, speaking under the ground; and presently up came a head, all covered with earth, through the hole the pedlar had made. It was s.h.a.ggy with hair, and had two little bright eyes, like those of a mole. Hulda thought she had never seen such a curious little man. He was dressed in brown clothes, and had a red-peaked cap on his head; and he and the pedlar soon laid the pack at the bottom of the hole, and began to stamp upon it, dancing and singing with great vehemence. As they went on the pack sank lower and lower, till at last, as they still stood upon it, Hulda could see only their heads and shoulders. In a little time longer she could only see the top of the red cap; and then the two little men disappeared altogether, and the ground closed over them, and the white nettles and marsh marigolds waved their heads over the place as if nothing had happened.
Hulda walked away sadly and slowly. She looked at the beautiful bracelet, and wished she had not parted with the wand for it, for she now began to fear that the pedlar had deceived her. Nevertheless, who would not be delighted to have such a fine jewel? It consisted of a gold hoop, set with turquoise, and on the clasp was a beautiful bird, with open wings, all made of gold, and which quivered as Hulda carried it.
Hulda looked at its bright eyes--ruby eyes, which sparkled in the suns.h.i.+ne--and at its crest, all powdered with pearls, and she forgot her regret.
”My beautiful bird!” she said, ”I will not hide you in a dark box, as the pedlar did. I will wear you on my wrist, and let you see all my toys, and you shall be carried every day into the garden, that the flowers may see how elegant you are. But stop! I think I see a little dust on your wings. I must rub it off.” So saying, Hulda took up her frock and began gently rubbing the bird's wings, when, to her utter astonishment, it opened its pretty beak and sang:
”My master, oh, my master, The brown hard-hearted gnome, He goes down faster, faster, To his dreary home.
Little Hulda sold her Golden wand for me, Though the fairy told her That must never be-- Never--she must never Let the treasure go.