The Waldorf family . rtled. Such an offer froma beautiful woman who could give him eight differ-ent kinds of wine every day, was certainly a greattemptation. It is true he was promised to Bellah,but men easily forget such youthful follies, and, be-sides, how could he ever marry Bellah if he couldnever get money enough to buy the heifer and thelean pig ? He pondered over it about two minutes,but the wine was dancing in his head and he couldnot think very clearly. However, he rememberedher hundreds of casks in the cellar, and that deter-mined him. He very politely told the enchantressthat nothin
The Waldorf family . rtled. Such an offer froma beautiful woman who could give him eight differ-ent kinds of wine every day, was certainly a greattemptation. It is true he was promised to Bellah,but men easily forget such youthful follies, and, be-sides, how could he ever marry Bellah if he couldnever get money enough to buy the heifer and thelean pig ? He pondered over it about two minutes,but the wine was dancing in his head and he couldnot think very clearly. However, he rememberedher hundreds of casks in the cellar, and that deter-mined him. He very politely told the enchantressthat nothing would give him greater pleasure thanto become her husband, and the Queen of the PearlIslands replied that she would immediately preparethe wedding supper. Accordingly she set out a golden table, and puton it every good thing that Harold had ever dreamedof in his whole life, as well as a great many dain-ties which he had never heard of. Then runningout to a fishpond at the end of the palace garden,she called out: 80. Come, lawyer! come, miller! come, tailor! come, priest!For you must be fried that my husband may feast. At each name she called, a fish darted towards her,which she caught in her hand, and put into a sil-ver net which was hanging at her girdle. Whenthe net was full, she carried the fish to the palace,and leaving Harold in the saloon, she went intothe adjoining room, where she threw them into agolden frying-pan. As the pan began to hiss overthe fire, Harold thought he heard the murmur ofvoices. What whispering is that, I hear, my beautifulqueen? asked the young man. It is only the crackling of the green wood un-der the pan, answered the enchantress, stirringthe fire as she spoke. In less than a minute Harold heard again thesound of half-choked voices. What whispering do I hear, my beautifulqueen? he again asked. It is only the melting of the lard in the pan, 87
Size: 1648px × 1516px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookauthoremburyem, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1840, bookyear1848
