"No," said the old woman; "but yesterday I saw eleven swans, with golden crowns on their heads, swimming down the river close by."
And she led Elisa some distance farther till they came to a slope, at the bottom of which a river wound its way. The trees on its banks stretched their long, leafy branches across the water to each other, and where they, according to their natural growth, could not reach the other side, the roots had been torn up from the soil, and hung out over the water, with the branches entwined in each other.
Elisa bade farewell to the old woman, and walked along the river till it flowed out into the great, open sea.
The great, glorious ocean lay before the young maiden ; but not a sail was to be seen out there, not a boat was in sight. How was she to continue her journey? She looked at the countless little pebbles on the shore; the water had worn them quite round. Glass, iron, stones, everything that had been washed up by the sea had been shaped by the water, and this was even far softer than her delicate hand.
"It rolls on and on persistently, and the hardest substance must in the end yield to it. I will be just as persistent. Thanks for the lesson you have given me, you clear, rolling waves! One day, my heart tells me, you will carry me to my dear brothers."
Among the sea-weeds that had been washed ashore lay eleven white swans' feathers, which she gathered into a bunch. There were drops of water on them, but whether they were dew-drops or tears, no one could say. It was very lonely there on the shore, but she did not feel it, for the sea was perpetually changing, and presented, in fact, a greater variety of aspects in a few hours than the fresh-water lakes could show in a whole year. If a large black cloud appeared, it was as if the sea meant to say, "I too can look black," and then the wind would begin to blow and the waves to show their white crests; but if the clouds were bathed in the red sunlight and the winds had gone to rest, the sea was like a rose-leaf; now it was green, now white, but however calmly it might rest, there was always a slight motion near the shore; the sea heaved gently, like the breast of a sleeping child.
Just as the sun was setting, Elisa saw eleven wild swans with golden crowns on their heads flying toward land, one behind the other; they looked like a long white sash. Elisa went up the slope and hid herself behind a bush; the swans settled down close to her, and began flapping with their large white wings.
The moment the sun sank below the water's edge the swans' plumage fell off the birds, and there stood eleven handsome princes, Elisa's brothers. She uttered a loud cry, for although they had changed greatly, she knew it was they, she felt it must be they; she ran into their arms and called them by their names, and they became so happy and delighted when they saw her and recognized their little sister, who was now so tall and
