endure an unvaried tête-à-tête, though with the first and only man in the world? No; rather than be without a confidential friend, she took to a serpent.”
Rubezahl having made these judicious reflections, forthwith hastened into the fields, tore up a dozen fresh turnips, arranged them in a very pretty covered basket, and brought them to Emma, whom he found musing in a solitary bower, unconsciously tearing a rose to pieces, and giving its leaves to the breeze.
“Fairest of Earth’s fair daughters,” he murmured, “let ennui and chagrin be banished from thy soul; let thy heart expand to the pleasure of social converse: thy palace and thy gardens shall no longer be a solitude to thee; this basket contains all that is necessary to make thy abode agreeable. Take this wand, touch these turnips with it, and at thy word each shall assume whatever form thou namest.”
This said he withdrew. Emma immediately opened the basket, and taking out the first turnip that came to hand, struck it with her wand, and exclaimed: “Brinhilda, dear Brinhilda, appear!” And instantly Brinhilda, her eyes overflowing with tears of joy, knelt at her mistress’s feet, embracing her knees with transport.
So perfect was the illusion, that Emma herself hardly knew whether her wand had restored to her the true Brinhilda, or whether her eyes were de-
