city. She cast up a terrified look into the wise woman's face, that
gazed down upon her gravely and kindly. Now the princess did not in
the least understand kindness. She always took it for a sign either
of partiality or fear. So when the wise woman looked kindly upon
her, she rushed at her, butting with her head like a ram: but the
folds of the cloak had closed around the wise woman; and, when the
princess ran against it, she found it hard as the cloak of a bronze
statue, and fell back upon the road with a great bruise on her head.
The wise woman lifted her again, and put her once more under the
cloak, where she fell asleep, and where she awoke again only to find
that she was still being carried on and on.

When at length the wise woman again stopped and set her down, she
saw around her a bright moonlit night, on a wide heath, solitary and
houseless. Here she felt more frightened than before; nor was her
terror assuaged when, looking up, she saw a stern, immovable
countenance, with cold eyes fixedly regarding her. All she knew of
the world being derived from nursery-tales, she concluded that the
wise woman was an ogress, carrying her home to eat her.

I have already said that the princess was, at this time of her life,
such a low-minded creature, that severity had greater influence over
her than kindness. She understood terror better far than tenderness.
When the wise woman looked at her thus, she fell on her knees, and
held up her hands to her, crying,--

"Oh, don't eat me! don't eat me!"

Now this being the best SHE could do, it was a sign she was a low
creature. Think of it--to kick at kindness, and kneel from terror.