And the voice from heaven cried out again in sorrow exceedingly:
‘Is there none, then, to save this soul from destruction?’
And the bee and the bramble, seeing the red weasel was loath to stir from the grasses where he sat watching the desperate battle, fell upon him in their fury and forced him to rise.
‘Never,’ quoth they, ‘shalt thou have rest, nor thy children's children peace, while there's a bee in the air or a flower upon the thorn, if thou goest not to the succor of her we love so well.’
Then the red weasel sprang into the air and seized the evil bird by the throat; so he let go his hold on the spirit of the young bride and flew away into the darkness.
And the voice from heaven cried out, saying:
‘Who hath let the frail ghost free to enter the gates of Paradise?’
And the red weasel answered:
‘Her strength, for she hath conquered her
