but the fair maiden was sad. she sat down and wept bitterly. one tear after another forced itself out of her eyes, and rolled through her long hair to the ground. there she sat, and would have remained sitting a long time, if there had not been a rustling and cracking in the boughs of the neighbouring tree. she sprang up like a roe which has been overtaken by the shot of the hunter. just then the moon was obscured by a dark cloud, and in an instant the maiden had put on the old skin and vanished, like a light blown out by the wind.