of her flowing golden hair, the greedy waters had swallowed up their beauteous mistress. Loud and lamentable were the exclamations of the whole frightened troop. “Woe! woe! Alas! alas!” screamed they, as wringing with anguish their snow-white hands they ran desperately round and round the fatal pool, calling upon the Naiads to take pity and restore to them their lovely lady; but all in vain. No Naiad commiserated their pitiable condition; but, on the contrary, the Nymph of the Fountain, mocking their despair, directed the streams of water so energetically upon them as to wet them every one through and through. Of all the Princess’s attendants, grief-laden as they seemed, not one manifested any readiness to share her fate, except her favourite, Brinhilda, who, when all hope was fled, boldly leaped into the devouring waters; but they were not devouring waters for her. No: despite all her efforts to get beneath their surface, she floated about as light as a cork, and was at last wafted by some unseen agency on to the grassy bank.
There was now nothing else to be done but to make the King acquainted, as soon as possible, with the terrible misadventure that had befallen his daughter. It chanced that his Majesty was at this very moment on his way to hunt in the forest, and the terror-stricken maidens had accordingly proceeded only a short distance when they met him at the head of his
