All at once he spied something in the middle of the grass.
What could it be? It moved; it came nearer. Was it a human creature,
gliding across--a girl dressed in white, gleaming in the moonshine?
She came nearer and nearer. He crept behind a tree and watched,
wondering. It must be some strange being of the wood--a nymph whom
the moonlight and the warm dusky air had enticed from her tree.
But when she came close to where he stood, he no longer doubted she
was human--for he had caught sight of her sunny hair, and her clear
blue eyes, and the loveliest face and form that he had ever seen.
All at once she began singing like a nightingale, and dancing
to her own music, with her eyes ever turned towards the moon.
She passed close to where he stood, dancing on by the edge of the trees
and away in a great circle towards the other side, until he could see
but a spot of white in the yellowish green of the moonlit grass.
But when he feared it would vanish quite, the spot grew, and became
a figure once more. She approached him again, singing and dancing,
and waving her arms over her head, until she had completed the circle.
Just opposite his tree she stood, ceased her song, dropped her arms,
and broke out into a long clear laugh, musical as a brook. Then, as
if tired, she threw herself on the grass, and lay gazing at the moon.
The prince was almost afraid to breathe lest he should startle her,
and she should vanish from his sight. As to venturing near her,
that never came into his head.

She had lain for a long hour or longer, when the prince began again
to doubt concerning her. Perhaps she was but a vision of his own fancy.
Or was she a spirit of the wood, after all? If so, he too would
haunt the wood, glad to have lost kingdom and everything for the
hope of being near her. He would build him a hut in the forest,
and there he would live for the pure chance of seeing her again.