gave her a few to eat. Then Eliza asked her if she had not seen eleven
princes riding through the forest.
“No,” replied the old woman, “But I saw yesterday eleven swans, with
gold crowns on their heads, swimming on the river close by.” Then she led
Eliza a little distance farther to a sloping bank, and at the foot of it wound a
little river. The trees on its banks stretched their long leafy branches across
the water towards each other, and where the growth prevented them from
meeting naturally, the roots had torn themselves away from the ground, so
that the branches might mingle their foliage as they hung over the water.
Eliza bade the old woman farewell, and walked by the flowing river, till she
reached the shore of the open sea. And there, before the young maiden’s
eyes, lay the glorious ocean, but not a sail appeared on its surface, not even
a boat could be seen. How was she to go farther? She noticed how the
countless pebbles on the sea-shore had been smoothed and rounded by the
action of the water. Glass, iron, stones, everything that lay there mingled
together, had taken its shape from the same power, and felt as smooth, or
even smoother than her own delicate hand. “The water rolls on without
weariness,” she said, “till all that is hard becomes smooth; so will I be
unwearied in my task. Thanks for your lessons, bright rolling waves; my
heart tells me you will lead me to my dear brothers.” On the foam-covered
sea-weeds, lay eleven white swan feathers, which she gathered up and
placed together. Drops of water lay upon them; whether they were dew-
drops or tears no one could say. Lonely as it was on the sea-shore, she did
not observe it, for the ever-moving sea showed more changes in a few hours
than the most varying lake could produce during a whole year. If a black
heavy cloud arose, it was as if the sea said, “I can look dark and angry too;”
and then the wind blew, and the waves turned to white foam as they rolled.
When the wind slept, and the clouds glowed with the red sunlight, then the
sea looked like a rose leaf. But however quietly its white glassy surface
rested, there was still a motion on the shore, as its waves rose and fell like
the breast of a sleeping child. When the sun was about to set, Eliza saw
eleven white swans with golden crowns on their heads, flying towards the
