He had visited twenty-three of the huts
without finding the object of his search. "I will go to the last
one," said the prince, gayly; "perhaps the gods have led me astray
only that I might find happiness at the end of my path." He saw the
last hut in the distance. It nestled in the midst of low bushes,
looking quiet and undisturbed, and on the door hung the ivy wreath.
The heart of the prince beat with joy, and he murmured, "She is
there--I have found her," as he hastened toward the hut. "No," he
said, "I dare not surprise her. I must consider the law sacred which
I made. The ivy wreath is before the door--no one dare enter. But I
will lie down before the door, and when she comes out she roust
cross my body or fall into my arms." The prince approached the hut
quietly, careful to avoid making any noise. When he had reached it,
he sank slowly upon the grass, and turned his eyes upon the door,
which concealed his beloved one from his view.
Deep silence reigned. This was a charming spot, just suited for a
tender rendezvous, and full of that sweet silence which speaks so
eloquently to a loving heart. In the distance could be heard the
sound of the hunter's horn, whilst the great trees rustled their
leaves as though they wished to mingle their notes in the universal
anthem.
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