fingers, pulled out the dead bodies and ate the flesh! Eliza had to pass close
by them, and they fixed their wicked glances upon her, but she prayed
silently, gathered the burning nettles, and carried them home with her to the
castle. One person only had seen her, and that was the archbishop-he was
awake while everybody was asleep. Now he thought his opinion was
evidently correct. All was not right with the queen. She was a witch, and
had bewitched the king and all the people. Secretly he told the king what he
had seen and what he feared, and as the hard words came from his tongue,
the carved images of the saints shook their heads as if they would say. “It is
not so. Eliza is innocent.”
But the archbishop interpreted it in another way; he believed that they
witnessed against her, and were shaking their heads at her wickedness. Two
large tears rolled down the king’s cheeks, and he went home with doubt in
his heart, and at night he pretended to sleep, but there came no real sleep to
his eyes, for he saw Eliza get up every night and disappear in her own
chamber. From day to day his brow became darker, and Eliza saw it and did
not understand the reason, but it alarmed her and made her heart tremble for
her brothers. Her hot tears glittered like pearls on the regal velvet and
diamonds, while all who saw her were wishing they could be queens. In the
mean time she had almost finished her task; only one coat of mail was
wanting, but she had no flax left, and not a single nettle. Once more only,
and for the last time, must she venture to the churchyard and pluck a few
handfuls. She thought with terror of the solitary walk, and of the horrible
ghouls, but her will was firm, as well as her trust in Providence. Eliza went,
and the king and the archbishop followed her. They saw her vanish through
the wicket gate into the churchyard, and when they came nearer they saw
the ghouls sitting on the tombstone, as Eliza had seen them, and the king
turned away his head, for he thought she was with them-she whose head
had rested on his breast that very evening. “The people must condemn her,”
said he, and she was very quickly condemned by every one to suffer death
by fire. Away from the gorgeous regal halls was she led to a dark, dreary
cell, where the wind whistled through the iron bars. Instead of the velvet
