happened, to snatch some for himself. But the beautiful widow had no thought of rest, though she assumed its appearance. As soon as, from unequivocal indications, she was certain that her knavish attendant was sound asleep, she arose, silently approached him, and drawing his sword, by one thrust put a period for ever to his sleeping and waking dreams of love. Stepping over the bleeding corse, she hastened into the forest, where she wandered about as chance directed, utterly unknowing whither she was going, only intent upon avoiding the open country, and whenever, in the distance, she perceived any one of human kind, to retreat still deeper into the wood.
Three days and three nights did she thus wander about, a prey to all the bitterness of grief, with no other support than a few wild fruits. To aggravate her wretchedness, she felt that the moment was approaching when she would become a mother. Exhausted by fatigue, she seated herself under a tree, and weeping and sobbing bitterly, loudly bewailed her condition. Suddenly she beheld before her a little old woman, who seemed as though she had risen out of the earth, and who thus addressed her: “Noble lady, what is it makes you weep? Can I do aught to relieve your distress?” The unfortunate lady felt a momentary relief in hearing the sound of a human voice; but when, on
