THE KING OF ELFLAND’S DAUGHTER
sun. He walked all day, and the sun was growing huge and red when he came again to the leather-worker’s cottage. He asked for food, and the old man made him welcome: his pot was already simmering for his own evening meal: and it was not long before Alveric was sitting at the old table before a dish full of squirrels’ legs, hedge-hogs and rabbit’s meat. The old man would not eat till Alveric had eaten, but waited on him with such solicitude that Alveric felt that the moment of his opportunity was come, and turned to the old man as he offered him a piece of the back of a rabbit, and approached the subject of Elfland.
“The twilight is further away,” said Alveric.
“Yes, yes,” said the old man without any meaning in his voice, whatever he had in his mind.
“When did it go?” said Alveric.
“The twilight, master?” said his host.
“Yes,” said Alveric.
“Ah, the twilight,” the old man said.
“The barrier,” said Alveric, and he lowered his voice, although he knew not why, “between here and Elfland.”
At the word Elfland all comprehension faded out of the old man’s eyes.
“Ah,” he said.
“Old man,” said Alveric, “you know where Elfland has gone.”
“Gone?” said the old man.
