did she laugh so much; and when she did laugh, it was more gently.
She seemed altogether more modest and maidenly in the water than
out of it.

But when the prince, who had really fallen in love when he fell in
the lake, began to talk to her about love, she always turned her
head towards him and laughed. After a while she began to look
puzzled, as if she were trying to understand what he meant, but
could not--revealing a notion that he meant something. But as soon
as ever she left the lake, she was so altered, that the prince said
to himself, "If I marry her, I see no help for it: we must turn
merman and mermaid, and go out to sea at once."



11. Hiss!


The princess's pleasure in the lake had grown to a passion, and she
could scarcely bear to be out of it for an hour. Imagine then her
consternation, when, diving with the prince one night, a sudden
suspicion seized her that the lake was not so deep as it used to
be. The prince could not imagine what had happened. She shot to the
surface, and, without a word, swam at full speed towards the higher
side of the lake. He followed, begging to know if she was ill, or
what was the matter. She never turned her head, or took the
smallest notice of his question. Arrived at the shore, she coasted
the rocks with minute inspection. But she was not able to come to
a conclusion, for the moon was very small, and so she could not see
well. She turned therefore and swam home, without saying a word to