But as the servant approached the tree, a lion leapt out from behind the trunk, reeled with anger, and roared so loud the leaves trembled on the branches. “He who tries to steal my leaping, peeping little lion’s lark,” he roared, “I’ll have for lunch!”
Then the father said, “I didn’t know the bird belonged to you. I’ll make it up to you with silver and gold, if only you spare my life.”
The lion said, “Nothing can save you, unless you promise to let me have who- or whatever first you meet when you get home. If you agree, I’ll spare your life and let you have the bird for your daughter to boot.”
The man hesitated and said, “It could be my youngest daughter, since she loves me the most and always comes running when I get home.”
But the servant was frightened and said, “Who says it has to be your daughter you meet first? It could just as well be a cat or a dog.”
So the father let himself be persuaded, took the leaping, peeping little lion’s lark with him, and promised to let the lion have what first he met when he got home.
As soon as he got home and stepped into his house, who should come running but his youngest, dearest daughter. She kissed and cuddled him, and when she saw that he had brought her a leaping, peeping little lion’s lark she was beside herself with joy. But the father, feeling no joy, burst out in tears and said, “My most beloved child, the little bird cost me dearly. I had to promise you in exchange to a wild lion, and when he has you he will tear you to shreds and devour you.” And he told her everything that had happened and begged her not to go to the lion, come what may.
But she comforted him with these words: “Dear Father, the promise you made must be kept. I will go there, and don’t worry, somehow I’ll manage to pacify the lion, and I’ll return hail and healthy back to you.”
The next morning she had him show her the way, bid farewell, and went with good cheer into the forest. The lion, as it turned out, was a bedeviled prince, a lion by day, and all his retinue had been turned into lions, but at night they resumed their human shape. Upon her arrival she was warmly received and shown into the castle. When night fell he was a handsome man, and the wedding was celebrated with great pomp. They lived happily together, awake at night, and asleep by day.
One day he came to her and said, “Tomorrow there will be a big celebration in your father’s house. Your eldest sister’s getting married, and if you wish to attend, my lions will take you there.”
Yes, she said, she would very much like to see her father again, and rode there with a retinue of lions. Everyone was overjoyed to see her, since they thought she had been torn to shreds by lions long ago. But she told them what a handsome husband she had and how happy she was and stayed until the end of the wedding festivities, whereupon she returned to the forest.
When her second sister was to be married and she was once again invited to the wedding, she said to the lion, “This time I don’t want to go alone. You must come with me.”
But the lion said it would be too risky for him, for were he to be struck by a beam of burning light he would be transformed into a dove and would have to spend seven years flying with the doves.
“Oh,” she said, “just come along. I’ll watch over you and guard you from the glimmer of any light.”
So they set out together and took along the little child who had been born to them.
She had a hall built with walls so strong and thick that not a ray of light could burst in. But the door was made of freshly hewn wood, and it sprung a tiny fissure no eye could see.
Now the marriage was celebrated with great pomp, but on the wedding party’s way back from the church, all lit up with torches and lanterns, as they passed the hall a hair’s breadth flicker of light fell on the prince, and as soon as it grazed him, at that very moment he was transformed. When she came in looking for him, he was nowhere in sight, but in his place she found a snow-white dove.
The dove spoke to her: “For seven years must I fly around the world, but every seven flaps I will let a red drop of blood and a white feather fall. They will show you the way, and if you follow my path you can break the spell.”
Whereupon the dove flew out the door and she followed, and every seven flaps a drop of red blood and a snow-white feather fell and showed her the way. So she went out into the big wide world, never looking about, never resting, until almost seven years had elapsed. She rejoiced, thinking his redemption was so close, and yet it was still so far.
Once, as she went walking, no feather fell and no drop of red blood, and when she looked about she saw that the dove had disappeared. And as she thought, Humans cannot help me here, she climbed up to the sun and said to it, “You shine through every rift and over every spire. Did you not see a white dove flying by?”