"I see, I see, my
mother's eyes, my father's nose--"
"He must have been a chuckle-headed king that, then," grinned Dirk to
himself. "The mare's nose is as big as a buck-basket. But how can she be a
princess, man,--prince, I mean? she has a foal running by her here."
"A foal?" said the thing, solemnly. "Let me behold it. Alas, alas, my
sister! Thy tyrant's threat has come true, that thou shouldst be his bride
whether thou wouldst or not. I see, I see in the features of thy son his
hated lineaments."
"Why he must be as like a horse, then, as your father. But this will not
do, Master Horse-man; I know that foal's pedigree better than I do my
own."
"Man, man, simple, though honest! Hast thou never heard of the skill of
the enchanter of the East? How they transform their victims at night back
again into human shape, and by day into the shape of beasts again?"
"Yes--well--I know that--"
"And do you not see how you are deluded? Every night, doubt not, that mare
and foal take their human shape again; and every night, perhaps, that foul
enchanter visits in your fen, perhaps in your very stable, his wretched
and perhaps unwilling bride."
"An enchanter in my stable? That is an ugly guest. But no. I've been into
the stables fifty times, to see if that mare was safe.
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