Hidden in the shadow of a cave, he aimed unerring arrows at them;
then came others and still others, until he awoke, wild-eyed.
Princes, friends of his, invited him to their meets, but he always
refused their invitations, because he thought that by this kind of
penance he might possibly avert the threatened misfortune; it
seemed to him that the fate of his parents depended on his refusal
to slaughter animals. He suffered because he could not see them,
and his other desire was growing well-nigh unbearable.
In order to divert his mind, his wife had dancers and jugglers
come to the castle.
She went abroad with him in an open litter; at other times,
stretched out on the edge of a boat, they watched for hours the
fish disport themselves in the water, which was as clear as the
sky. Often she playfully threw flowers at him or nestling at his
feet, she played melodies on an old mandolin; then, clasping her
hands on his shoulder, she would inquire tremulously: "What
troubles thee, my dear lord?"
He would not reply, or else he would burst into tears; but at
last, one day, he confessed his fearful dread.
His wife scorned the idea and reasoned wisely with him: probably
his father and mother were dead; and even if he should ever see
them again, through what chance, to what end, would he arrive at
this abomination? Therefore, his fears were groundless, and he
should hunt again.
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