Immediately the bead burst with a little puff as if a seed podhad snapped asunder. A faint perfume surrounded her， rareand subtle as if it had been blown across from some flower ofEden. Olga looked down and found herself enveloped in a robeof such delicate texture， that it seemed soft as a rose-leaf andas airy as pink clouds that sometimes float across the sunset.
The water-lilies in her hair had become a coronal of opals.
When she entered the great ball-room， the Prince of thecastle started up from his throne in amazement. Never beforehad he seen such a vision of loveliness. “Surely，” said he， “somerose of Paradise hath found a soul and drifted earthward toblossom here.” And all that night he had eyes for none but her.
The next night Olga started again to the castle in her dressof tow， and at the gate she grasped the second bead in herfingers， repeating the charm. This time the pale yellow of thedaffodils seemed to have woven itself into a cloth of gold forher adorning. It was like a shimmer of moon-beams， and herhair held the diamond flashings of a hundred tiny stars.
That night the Prince paid her so many compliments andsingled her out so often to bestow his favours， that Olga’s headwas turned. She tossed it proudly， and quite scorned the thoughtof the humble cottage which had given her shelter so long. Thenext day when she had returned to her gown of tow and was nolonger a haughty court lady， but only Olga， the Flax-spinner’smaiden， she repined at her lot. Frowning， she carried the waterfrom the spring. Frowning， she gathered the cresses and pluckedthe woodland fruit. And then she sat all day by the spring，refusing to spread the linen on the grass to bleach.
She was discontented with the old life of toil， and poutedcrossly because duties called her when she wanted to do nothingbut sit idly dreaming of the gay court scenes in which she hadtaken a bright brief part. The old Flax-spinner’s fingers trembledas she spun， when she saw the frowns， for she had given of herheart’s blood to buy happiness for this maiden she loved， andwell she knew there can be no happiness where frowns abide.
She felt that her years of sacrifice had been in vain， but whenthe Oak wagged his head she called back waveringly， “My littleOlga will not be ungrateful and forgetful！”
That night outside the castle gate， Olga paused. She hadforgotten the charm. The day’s discontent had darkened hermemory as storm-clouds darken the sky. But she grasped hernecklace imperiously.
“Deck me at once！” she cried in a haughty tone. “Clotheme more beautifully than mortal maid was ever clad before，so that I may find favour in the Prince’s sight and become thebride of the castle！ I would that I were done for ever with thespindle and the distaff！”
But the moon went under a cloud and the wind began tomoan around the turrets. The black night hawks in the forestflapped their wings warningly， and the black bats flitted lowaround her head.
“Obey me at once！” she cried angrily， stamping her foot andjerking at the necklace. But the string broke， and the beadswent rolling away in the darkness in every direction and werelost—all but one， which she held clasped in her hand.
Then Olga wept at the castle gate； wept outside in the nightand the darkness， in her peasant’s garb of tow. But after awhilethrough her sobbing， stole the answering sob of the night wind.
“Hush-sh！” it seemed to say. “Sh-sh！ Never a heart can cometo harm， if the lips but speak the old dame’s charm.”