they rode forth from the thick forest， crossed the heath， and again entered a pathlesswood. Here， towards evening， they met with robbers.
“Where hast thou stolen that beauteous maiden?” cried the robbers， seizing the horse bythe bridle， and dragging the two riders from its back.
the priest had nothing to defend himself with， but the knife he had taken from Helga，and with this he struck out right and left. One of the robbers raised his axe against him; butthe young priest sprang on one side， and avoided the blow， which fell with GREat force onthe horse's neck， so that the blood gushed forth， and the animal sunk to the ground. ThenHelga seemed suddenly to awake from her long， deep reverie; she threw herself hastilyupon the dying animal. The priest placed himself before her， to defend and shelter her; butone of the robbers swung his iron axe against the Christian's head with such force that it wasdashed to pieces， the blood and brains were scattered about， and he fell dead upon theground. Then the robbers seized beautiful Helga by her white arms and slender waist; but atthat moment the sun went down， and as its last ray disappeared， she was changed into theform of a frog. A greenish white mouth spread half over her face; her arms became thin andslimy; while broad hands， with webbed fingers， spread themselves out like fans. Then therobbers， in terror， let her go， and she stood among them， a hideous monster; and as isthe nature of frogs to do， she hopped up as high as her own size， and disappeared in thethicket. Then the robbers knew that this must be the work of an evil spirit or some secretsorcery， and， in a terrible fright， they ran hastily from the spot.
the full moon had already risen， and was shiningin all her radiant splendor over the earth， whenfrom the thicket， in the form of a frog， crept poorHelga. She stood still by the corpse of the Christianpriest， and the carcase of the dead horse. Shelooked at them with eyes that seemed to weep， andfrom the frog's head came forth a croaking sound，as when a child bursts into tears. She threw herselffirst upon one， and then upon the other; broughtwater in her hand， which， from being webbed，was large and hollow， and poured it over them;but they were dead， and dead they would remain. She understood that at last. Soon wildanimals would come and tear their dead bodies; but no， that must not happen. Then shedug up the earth， as deep as she was able， that she might prepare a grave for them. Shehad nothing but a branch of a tree and her two hands， between the fingers of which thewebbed skin stretched， and they were torn by the work， while the blood ran down her hands.She saw at last that her work would be useless， more than she could accomplish; so shefetched more water， and washed the face of the dead， and then covered it with fresh GREenleaves; she also brought large boughs and spread over him， and scattered dried leavesbetween the branches. Then she brought the heaviest stones that she could carry， and laidthem over the dead body， filling up the crevices with moss， till she thought she had fenced inhis resting-place strongly enough. The difficult task had employed her the whole night; and asthe sun broke forth， there stood the beautiful Helga in all her loveliness， with her bleedinghands， and， for the first time， with tears on her maiden cheeks. It was， in thistransformation， as if two natures were striving together within her; her whole frametrembled， and she looked around her as if she had just awoke from a painful dream. Sheleaned for support against the trunk of a slender tree， and at last climbed to the topmostbranches， like a cat， and seated herself firmly upon them. She remained there the wholeday， sitting alone， like a frightened squirrel， in the silent solitude of the wood， where therest and stillness is as the calm of death.
Butterflies fluttered around her， and close by were several ant-hills， each with itshundreds of busy little creatures moving quickly to and fro. In the air， danced myriads ofgnats， swarm upon swarm， troops of buzzing flies， ladybirds， dragon-flies with goldenwings， and other little winged creatures. The worm crawled forth from the moist ground，and the moles crept out; but， excepting these， all around had the stillness of death： butwhen people say this， they do not quite understand themselves what they mean. Nonenoticed Helga but a flock of magpies， which flew chattering round the top of the tree on whichshe sat. These birds hopped close to her on the branches with bold curiosity. A glance fromher eyes was a signal to frighten them away， and they were not clever enough to find outwho she was; indeed she hardly knew herself.
When the sun was near setting， and the evening's twilight about to commence， theapproaching transformation aroused her to fresh exertion. She let herself down gently fromthe tree， and， as the last sunbeam vanished， she stood again in the wrinkled form of afrog， with the torn， webbed skin on her hands， but her eyes now gleamed with moreradiant beauty than they had ever possessed in her most beautiful form of loveliness; theywere now pure， mild maidenly eyes that shone forth in the face of a frog. They showed theexistence of deep feeling and a human heart， and the beauteous eyes overflowed with tears，weeping precious drops that lightened the heart.
On the raised mound which she had made as a grave for the dead priest， she found thecross made of the branches of a tree， the last work of him who now lay dead and cold beneathit. A sudden thought came to Helga， and she lifted up the cross and planted it upon thegrave， between the stones that covered him and the dead horse. The sad recollectionbrought the tears to her eyes， and in this gentle spirit she traced the same sign in the sandround the grave; and as she formed， with both her hands， the sign of the cross， the webskin fell from them like a torn glove. She washed her hands in the water of the spring， andgazed with astonishment at their delicate whiteness. Again she made the holy sign in the air，between herself and the dead man; her lips trembled， her tongue moved， and the namewhich she in her ride through the forest had so often heard spoken， rose to her lips， and sheuttered the words， “Jesus Christ.” Then the frog skin fell from her; she was once more alovely maiden. Her head bent wearily， her tired limbs required rest， and then she slept.
Her sleep， however， was short. Towards midnight， she awoke; before her stood thedead horse， prancing and full of life， which shone forth from his eyes and from his woundedneck. Close by his side appeared the murdered Christian priest， more beautiful than Baldur，as the Viking's wife had said; but now he came as if in a flame of fire. Such gravity， suchstern justice， such a piercing glance shone from his large， gentle eyes， that it seemed topenetrate into every corner of her heart. Beautiful Helga trembled at the look， and hermemory returned with a power as if it had been the day of judgment. Every good deed thathad been done for her， every loving word that had been said， were vividly before her mind.She understood now that love had kept her here during the day of her trial; while the creatureformed of dust and clay， soul and spirit， had wrestled and struggled with evil. Sheacknowledged that she had only followed the impulses of an evil disposition， that she haddone nothing to cure herself; everything had been given her， and all had happened as it wereby the ordination of Providence. She bowed herself humbly， confessed her GREatimperfections in the sight of Him who can read every fault of the heart， and then the priestspoke. “Daughter of the moorland， thou hast come from the swamp and the marshy earth，but from this thou shalt arise. The sunlight shining into thy inmost soul proves the origin fromwhich thou hast really sprung， and has restored the body to its natural form. I am come tothee from the land of the dead， and thou also must pass through the valley to reach the holymountains where mercy and perfection dwell. I cannot lead thee to Hedeby that thou maystreceive Christian baptism， for first thou must remove the thick veil with which the waters ofthe moorland are shrouded， and bring forth from its depths the living author of thy being andthy life. Till this is done， thou canst not receive consecration.”