It was on the day of the summer solstice, and the glow of midday lay on the corn-fields. At times a fresh wind swept over from the mountain forest near; then the stalks bent low, and the poppies on the edge of the field scattered their delicate petals. Crickets and grasshoppers chirped in the grain, and from the blackthorn on the roadside the goldhammer once in a while let her gentle call be heard. Through the corn-field, which extended from the valley to the mountain, walked, in the narrow path, a young woman of slender yet strong figure. She wore the customary plaited skirt, and, for protection against the sun’s rays, a red kerchief; on her left arm hung a basket, and in her right hand she carried a stone jug. As the goldhammer in the thorn-hedge became aware of her presence he fluttered to the highest twig and called softly: “Maiden, maiden, how do you flourish?” But the bird was mistaken. The blond Greta was no maiden, but a young wife, and now was on her way to her husband, who felled wood in the forest above. When the fair one had reached the border of the forest she stood listening, and soon the strokes of a woodman’s ax told her where to turn her steps. It was not long before she saw her husband, who felled a pine tree [Pg 850]with mighty strokes, and, with joyful voice, she called to him. “Remain standing where thou art,” responded he. “The tree will fall directly.” And the pine tree gave a deep sigh, bowed itself, and sank crashing to the earth. Now Greta came nearer, and the sunburnt woodcutter took his young wife in his arms and kissed her fondly. Then she sat down on the trunk of the tree, and took the food from the basket she had brought. Here Hans laid down the bread from his hand, took his ax, and said: “I have forgotten something,” stepped in the direction of the fallen pine, and cut three crosses in the wood. “Why dost thou that, Hans?” asked the wife. “That was done on account of the wood-sprites,” explained the husband. “The poor creatures have a wicked enemy, who is the wild hunter. Day and night he waylays them and hunts them with his dogs. But if the pursued little women succeed in escaping to such a tree-trunk, then the wild huntsman can not harm them, because of the three crosses.” The young wife’s eyes grew large. “Hast thou ever met a wood-sprite?” asked she, curious. “No. They only rarely let themselves be seen. But to-day is the solstice, when they become visible.” And suddenly he called with a loud voice into the forest: “Wood-sprite, appear!” He had only done this in order to tease his wife; but, on the holy midsummer day, one should not jest about such things. At once a little woman, a yard high, delicate of form[Pg 851] and very beautiful of face, stood before the pair. She wore a long white garment, and in her golden hair a spray of mistletoe. Hans and Greta were very much frightened. They rose up hastily from their seats, and Greta made a bow, the best she could do. “You have called me at a good time,” said the wood-sprite, and pointed with forefinger to the orb of the sun, that stood almost over her head, “and a good deed”—here the little woman pointed to the marked tree-stump—“is the other reason. Gold and silver have I not to give away, but I know of something better. Come with me; it will do you no harm, and take your jug: you will be able to make use of it.” So she spoke and led the way. Hans shouldered his woodman’s ax, Greta took up the stone jug, and both followed the little woman. She had a walk like a duck, and Greta plucked her husband’s sleeve, pointed to the waddling little woman, and would have whispered something into his ear, but Hans laid his forefinger on her mouth. Nothing hurts a sprite more than to have a person ridicule their gait. They have feet like a duck, and therefore they wear long, flowing garments to hide them. After a short time the three arrived at a clearing. Very old trees stood in a circle around the meadow; out of the grass arose lilies and bluebells, and great butterflies rested thereon, waving their wings to and fro. And Hans, who thought he knew the whole forest, could not remember to have ever crossed this place. On the edge of the meadow stood a small house.[Pg 852] The walls were covered with the bark of trees, and the roof was shingled with the scales of pine cones, and each scale was fastened down by a rose-thorn. Here the wood-sprite was at home. She led her guests behind the house, and pointed to a spring whose water gushed silently from the black earth. Succulent coltsfoot and irises grew on its brink, and over its surface danced green and gold dragon-flies. “That is the fountain of youth,” said the wood-sprite. “A bath in its water turns an old man into a boy and an old woman into a girl. But if one drinks the water then does it ward off old age until death. Fill your jug and carry it home. But be economical with this precious water; a drop on each Sunday is enough to keep you young. And yet again: As soon as thou, Hans, dost cast thy eye on a strange woman, or thou, Greta, on a strange man, then the water loses its virtue. That mark you. Now fill your jug and fare you well.” So spoke the wood-sprite, refusing the thanks of the lucky couple, and went into the house. Greta filled the jug with the water of youth, and then they hastened home as quickly as they could to their cottage. Arrived at home, Hans poured the water into a bottle and sealed it with fir resin. “For the present,” he remarked, “we do not find the water of youth necessary, and we can economize. The time will come, indeed, when we will need it.” And then they placed the bottle in the cupboard where they kept their treasures: a couple of old coins, a garnet chain on which hung a[Pg 853] golden penny, and two silver spoons. But Greta took great care that the water lost not its virtue. And how they did take themselves in hand! When the young forester went by the garden before the house and exchanged a greeting with Greta, as indeed had been his custom, then Greta looked not up from her vegetable-bed. And when Hans sat in the evening in “The White Stag,” and the pretty Lisi brought him wine, then he made a face like a cat during a storm; and finally he did not go any more to the inn, but remained at home with his wife. Thus the water must certainly retain its magic power. So there passed for the young couple a year of love and happiness, when to the two came a third. In the cradle a chubby boy kicked and cried, so that the father’s heart leaped for joy. “Now,” thought he, “is the time come for us to open the bottle. What thinkest thou, Greta? A drop of the water of youth would do thee good.” The wife agreed to the proposition, and Hans went into the room where the magic potion was preserved. With hands trembling with joy he loosed the cork and—Oh, wo, wo!—the bottle slipped from his hands, and the water of youth poured over the floor. He came near falling to the floor, he was so frightened over the misfortune. What was he to do now? His wife must on no account learn what had happened; she might die from fright. Perhaps he could tell her later what he had done; perhaps, also, he might find the fountain of youth again (which he had certainly sought in vain), and he might[Pg 854] replace the loss. He hastily filled a new bottle, which was just like the first, with well-water, and well-water it was also that he gave his wife. “Ah, how it refreshes and strengthens one!” said Greta; “take a drop also, dear Hans.” And Hans obeyed and praised the virtue of the magic potion, and from that time each one took a drop every Sunday when the church-bell was ringing. And Greta bloomed like a rose, and Hans’s veins swelled with health and strength. But he postponed the confession of his deed from day to day, for he hoped in his heart to yet find the water of youth; but roam through the forest as he would he could not discover the meadow where the wood-sprite lived. Thus passed some years. A small maiden joined the little boy, and Frau Greta’s once round chin had become double. She herself certainly saw it not, for the mirror was not yet in existence in those days. Hans saw it, indeed, but avoided speaking of it, and redoubled his love for his portly wife. Then there happened a misfortune. At least Greta held it to be such. As she swept the house one day the small Peter, her eldest, came upon the cupboard in which stood the bottle with the supposed water of youth and clumsily overthrew the bottle, so that it broke and the contents were spilled. “Oh, thou gracious Heaven!” lamented the mother. “It is lucky, though, that Hans is not at home.” With trembling hands she gathered up the fragments from the floor and replaced the bottle by another, which she filled with ordinary water. “Certainly the deception[Pg 855] will soon be found out, for now is it all over with the everlasting youth. Alas, alas!” But for the present she did not wish to tell her husband anything about it. Again considerable time passed, and the couple lived together as on the day when the priest had joined their hands in marriage. Each one carefully avoided letting the other know that youth was past, and each Sunday conscientiously took the magic drop. Then it happened that one morning a gray hair remained between Hans’s fingers as he combed his hair. And he thought: “Now is the time for me to tell the truth to my wife.” With a heavy heart, he began: “Greta, it seems to me that our water of youth has lost its strength. Look there! I have found a gray hair. I am getting old.” Greta was frightened, but composed herself, and, forcing a loud laugh, cried: “A gray hair! When I was a little girl, ten years old, I had even then a gray lock amid my hair. The like has frequently happened. Thou hast lately dressed a badger; perhaps something has happened to your hair from the fat, for badger’s fat, you know, colors the hair gray. No, dear Hans, the water has not lost its old virtue, or”—here she cast an anxious glance on him—“or perhaps thou also findest that I am growing old?” Now Hans laughed very loudly. “Thou, old! Thou bloomest, indeed, like a peony!” And then he threw his arms about her and gave her a kiss. But when he was alone he said, with quiet thankfulness: “God be[Pg 856] thanked! She knows not that we are getting old. Now it matters not.” And similarly thought the wife. On the evening of the same day the young folks of the village danced to the fiddle of a wandering musician, and no couple wheeled more merrily under the linden than Hans and Greta. The peasant women made sarcastic remarks, to be sure; but the two heard nothing of the ridicule in their happiness. After that it happened in the fall, as Hans with his family was eating a Martinmas goose, that Frau Greta broke a tooth. There was great lamenting, for she was so proud of her white teeth. And when the couple were alone together the wife said, in an unsteady voice: “This misfortune would not have occurred if the water—” But at this Hans blurted out: “You think the water is good for everything. Has it not often happened before that a child has broken out a tooth by cracking a nut? What hast thou against the excellent water? Art thou not fresh and sound as a rose? Or perhaps thou hast turned thine eyes upon another that thou mistrustest the virtue of the water?” Then the wife laughed, wiped the tears from her cheeks, and kissed her husband so that the breath almost left him. But in the afternoon, when they sat on the stone bench before the house door and sang two-part songs about true love, the passers-by said: “The silly old people!” However, the happy ones heard them not. [Pg 857] So passed many years. The house had become too small for the children. They had gone forth, had married and had children of their own. The two old people were again alone, and were as dear to each other as on their wedding day; and every Sunday, when the church-bell rang, each drank a drop from the flask. Then once again the day of the summer solstice drew near. On the evening before, Hans and Greta sat before their door and looked toward the heights where the St. John’s fire blazed, and from the distance sounded the mirth of the young fellows and maids, who stirred the fire and sprang through its flames in couples. Then the wife said: “Dear Hans, I would like to go once more to the forest. If thou desirest it also, then will we start early in the morning. But thou must waken me early, for when the elder blossoms the young women like to sleep until the sun is high in the heavens.” Hans agreed. On the next morning he wakened his wife, and they went together into the forest. They walked like lovers, and each gave a careful heed to the steps of the other. When Hans cautiously jumped over the root of a tree, the wife said: “Ah, Hans, thou leapest indeed like a young kid!” and when Greta timidly stepped over a little ditch, her husband laughed and cried: “Tuck up your dress, Greta! Jump!” And then they selected an old pine tree, feasting in its shade on what Greta had brought with her. “It was here,” said Hans, “where the wood-sprite appeared to us that day, and there yonder must lie the[Pg 858] forest meadow with the fountain of youth. But I have never again found the meadow and the spring.” “And, God be thanked! that has mattered not,” hastily interrupted Greta. “For our flask is still far from being empty.” “Certainly, certainly,” nodded Hans. “But yet it would please me if we could see the good wood-sprite once again, and thank her for our good fortune. Come—let us go and seek her. Perhaps I will be as lucky to-day as formerly.” Then they set out and went deeper into the forest, and after a quarter of an hour saw there, before their eyes, the sunny forest meadow. Lilies and bluebells bloomed in the grass, gay-colored butterflies flew to and fro, and on the edge of the forest stood also the little house, just as in years before. They went toward the house with beating hearts, and best of all, there was indeed the fountain of youth at hand, and dragon-flies, in green and gold, hovered over it. Hans and Greta stepped to the brim of the spring. They embraced each other and stooped over the water; and from out the clear surface of the spring there confronted them two gray heads with friendly, wrinkled faces. Then hot tears fell from the eyes of the old couple, and they stood stammering and sobbing in mutual guilt. It required a long time before it became clear to them that each had deluded and for long years had lovingly deceived the other. “Thou hast also known that we have both grown old?” cried out Hans, joyfully. [Pg 859] “Of course, of course,” laughed the wife, amid tears. “And I, also,” rejoiced old Hans. Then he took his wife and kissed her as on the day she had said “Yes” to him. Then the forest-sprite suddenly stood before them, as if she had sprung out of the earth. “Welcome,” said she. “You have not appeared before me for a long time. But—but,” continued the little woman, and threatened with her finger, “you have kept a bad home with the water of youth. Wrinkles and gray hair! Ah, ah! Now,” continued she again, “that is easy to remedy, and you are come at a good hour. Quick! Spring into the fountain of youth; it is not deep; dip your gray heads under; then you shall see a miracle. The bath will restore to you youthful vigor and beauty. But quick, before the sun sinks!” Hans and Greta looked at each other. “Wilt thou?” asked the husband, in an uncertain voice. “Never,” answered Greta, quickly. “Oh, if thou only knowest how happy I am, that at last I may be old! And, also, it would be impossible on account of our children and grandchildren. No, gracious forest-sprite, a thousand thanks for your good deed, but we remain as we are. Is it not so, Hans?” “Yes,” nodded Hans, “we remain old. If thou couldst but know, Greta, how well your gray hair becomes you.” “As you will,” said the wood-sprite, a little vexed.[Pg 860] “There is no ceremony here.” So speaking, she went into the house and locked the door behind her. But the old couple kissed each other anew. Then they stepped homeward, arm in arm, through the forest, and the midsummer sun shed a golden light upon their gray heads.