Green Henry

‘That’s not so,’ asserted Catherine. ‘You owe Henry a kiss, you witch!’ ‘Oh, for shame, Catherine! You shouldn’t tell such stories,’ said the embarrassed child, and the inexorable maid replied: ‘That’s as it may be, the hill fell down before you had turned round three times, and you owe Master Henry a kiss!’ ‘Then I will go on owing it,’ she cried laughing, and I, glad to have escaped the solemn ceremony, and yet turning the matter to my own advantage, said: ‘Good. Then promise me that you will always go on owing me a kiss!’ ‘Yes, I’ll do that!’ cried she, and gaily and mischievously, she gave the hand I proffered a resounding slap. She was now lively and boisterous, and as nimble as quicksilver, seemingly quite a different person from what she was by day. Midnight had transfigured her, her little face was quite rosy and her eyes shone with pleasure. She danced round the helpless Catherine, teased her and was pursued by her, there began a chase round the room in which I became involved too. Old Catherine lost a shoe and withdrew, panting, but Anna grew wilder and wilder, and more and more agile. At last I caught her and held her fast. Without more ado, she put her arm round my neck, her mouth close to mine, and said softly, interrupted by quick gasps for breath: ‘A wee white mouse was dwelling In her little hillside house; The hill began to crumble, Out ran the little mouse.’ Whereupon I continued in the same strain: ‘The little mouse was running, They caught it as it fled, And round its tiny forepaw They bound a ribbon red.’ Then we recited together in the same rhythm, rocking quietly backwards and forwards: ‘It struggled and lamented, What mischief did I do? They took a golden arrow And pierced its heart right through.’ And when the song came to an end, our lips were close together without moving; we did not kiss each other, and we never thought of it, only our breath mingled as we stood on that new, as yet uncrossed bridge, and our hearts were glad and untroubled.