"Jump on the horse!" said Holy Friday.
As soon as the bay felt his master on his back, he began to neigh and stamp. The animal was more spirited than ever.
"Where shall we go?" the horse asked gayly.
"Home," replied Petru.
"How shall we ride?"
"Like a curse."
Petru expressed his thanks for the service done him, and set off; he rode and rode as fleetly as a curse flies, till he came to the emperor's court.
Nothing was left of the palace except the ground where it had stood. No trace of any human being who could have uttered a word or given any tidings was to be found. At last old Birscha came out of a ruined cellar. Petru learned what had happened and its cause, turned his bay, and went back even more swiftly than he had come. He did not even stop to take breath until he reached the Fairy Aurora's kingdom. The time that had passed since every thing had been in the condition the queen had commanded, can not be told in words. It must have been a long period.
When Petru reached the bridge the sun had onlythree bright rays, seven warm, and nine cold ones left; all the others had gradually been lost.
The Fairy Aurora felt that some remarkable person must be coming, for it seemed just as it had done when she woke from the dream that had made her so sad. She was longing for something, she knew not what, just as she had then.
"Who is coming?" she asked in a low tone.
"Hold firmly, master," said the bay.
Petru struck in the spurs, drew the bridle, and felt nothing until he was on the other side of the bridge.
"The hero is coming!Overthe bridge!" cried the guards, waving their hats in the air.
The Fairy Aurora did not stir nor speak.
Petru suddenly rushed up to her, clasped her in his arms, and kissed her—just as fairy princes always kiss bewitching fairies.
The lovely fairy queen felt as she had never felt before. She said nothing more, asked no more questions, but made a sign to have the bay led into the stables of the sun, and entered the palace with Petru.
The fairies began to smile merrily, the flowers to smell sweetly, the springs to pour forth clear waters, the winds to blow cheerily, the wheel of life whirled faster than a top, the black veil fell, and the radiant sun rose high in the heavens, higher than it had ever done before. And in the world there was a light like the sun's, so that for nine years, nine months, and nine days it was so terribly bright that nothing could be seen.
Petru rode home, brought back his old father and mother, had a wedding so magnificent that tidings of it spread through ninety-nine countries, and became emperor of both kingdoms.
His brothers, Florea and Costan, had their sight restored so that they might witness Petru's happiness.
This, dear children, was the story of handsome Prince Petru and the Fairy Aurora, queen of the Land of the Sun.
Petru lived and reigned in peace and health, and who knows whether, by God's help, he may not be reigning still.
A Cycle of Tales. Translated by Helen Zimmern. Square 16mo. $1.50.
"Like a string of amber beads, each one exquisite by itself, but seen in perfection when connected with its fellows. They imprison nymphs of the wood, and naiads of the stream, and all the sweet and tender graces of nature which she reveals only to her devoted lovers."—Pittsburgh Times.
"The heart experiences of a princess and queen who is also a true and noble woman."—Cincinnati Commercial Gazette.
"The charming tales are full of beautiful thought and sentiment, and scarcely lack the metrical form to be true poetry."—Providence Journal.
"Wholly attractive and interesting—beautifully printed."—Boston Gazette.