THE SWEET-SCENTED NAME
VII
So this great fairy-tale came into the young man's life. And though it didn't seem well suited to the taking-in of a fairy-tale, yet room was found for it somewhere. The fairy-tale bought a place in his life—with its own charm and the treasures of the enchanted bag.
Turandina and the young lawyer were married. And Turandina had first a little son and then a daughter. The boy was like his mother, and grew up to be a gentle dreamy child. The girl was like her father, gay and intelligent.
And so the years went by. Every summer, when the days were at their longest, a strange melancholy overshadowed Turandina. She used to go out in the mornings to the edge of the forest and stand there listening to the forest voices. And after some time she would walk home again slowly and sadly.
And once, standing there at midday, she heard a loud voice calling to her:
"Turandina, come. Your father has forgiven you."
And so she went away and never returned. Her little son was then seven years old and her daughter three.
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