At the appointed time she appeared--alone, now, Gaspar was glad to see, for he did not like to have her whispering and laughing with the other girls. However, he hoped she would not laugh now. He led her through the museum into another room, where he had been painting a picture of his fight with the lion.
"That is excellent!" said the girl; "that is just the thing. There goes the dagger into the throat of the lion. How much better than a petrified peacock, or a labelled dromedary! And you killed the lion and painted the picture too?"
"And the dagger--where did you find that?"
Gaspar told her how he had carved it of heart of oak when he was a boy, and had changed it to steel in fighting with the magician.
"I must see that magician; let us go and find him," said the girl. So away they went. As they walked along Gaspar told her about the ivory show box, and regretted that he had lost his flask of water, and exchanged his apple for the cantering horse, because they had now nothing to give the little gray man for a peep into it.
"Wait a moment," said the girl; and running into her house, which they were passing, she brought out a golden cup full of red wine. "I think he will like this better than the water--do not you?"
When they came to the milestone, there sat the gray man, cracking away as inveterately as ever. "I should think he would be tired to death," said Gaspar. "Think how much I have seen of the world while he has been cracking those old nuts."
The little man overheard him, and smiled to himself, as much as to say, "I know;" but when he saw the young girl, he rose up and made quite a profound bow. "He never bowed to me," thought Gaspar.
"Will you let me look into your ivory show box, and I will give you a drink of red wine," said the girl.
"It is a poor thing," answered the magician, "not worthy of your attention; but if you will vouchsafe me a sip of the wine, I have been cracking these dry nuts so long. Ah, I do begin to be weary!" The girl peeped into the show box. "All very pretty, but rather stiff and monotonous," she said. "Not so good as you can paint, Gaspar. Come, let us go home."
She made the gray man a pleasant little courtesy, took her vase of wine, and she and Gaspar went back to the village to paint their own pictures, leaving the little magician to crack his nuts and look into his show box as long as he pleased.