ourselves in a lovely glade, where the light shone so soft and
golden, and where the songs of the birds sounded so sweet and
melodious, that I felt as though we were stepping through an
enchanted world, and well could I believe that the fairies danced
around the well, sunk deep in its mossy dell, and fringed about
with ferns and flowers and the shade of drooping trees.

But fairies there were none visible to our eyes, and we moved
softly onwards towards the spreading tree hard by. But ere we
reached it, we both drew rein as by a common impulse, for we had
seen a sight which arrested and held us spellbound, ay, and more
than that, for the wonder and amaze of it fell also upon the horses
we bestrode. For scarcely had we drawn rein, before they both began
to tremble and to sweat, and stood with their forefeet planted,
their necks outstretched, their nostrils distended; uttering short,
gasping, snorting sounds, as a horse will do when overcome by some
terror. But for all this they were as rigid as if they had been
carved in stone.

And now, what did we see? Let me try and tell, so far as my poor
words may avail. Beneath a spreading tree just a stone's throw to
the right of where we stood, and with nothing between to hinder our
view of her, a peasant maiden, dressed in the white coif, red
skirt, and jacket and kerchief of her class, had been bending over
some fine embroidery which she held in her hands. We just caught a
glimpse of her thus before the strange thing happened which caused
us to stop short, as though some power from without restrained us.

Hard by, as I know now, stood the village, shut out from view by
the trees, with its little church, and the homestead of Jacques