“Whatever you do, don’t let the lip-flowers kiss you. They are sure to ask to. But they won’t really want to kiss. They will only bite a piece out of your cheek; they are terribly greedy.”
The sailor thanked the swan for its advice, and sprang upon the mound. It was covered with plants bearing such flowers as man had never seen before. Some of them were like mouths—soft red lips folded over the whitest rows of shining teeth; and when Rupert struck one of them by chance, they gave a loud angry cry, whilst all the others burst into such weird laughter that he thought it dreadful to hear. But one and all, as he passed by them, swayed their long stalks towards him, and said, “Let me give you a kiss—only one: let me kiss your cheek.” But he minded what the swan had said, and, keeping carefully out of their reach, turned to examine the other flowers. Some were like delicate waxen ears, and these, with their dark green leaves, he did not think at all ugly. But the prettiest of all grew on long slender stalks, and bent like lilies, and their flowers were like human eyes. Big eyes, small eyes, blue eyes, brown eyes, black eyes, hazel eyes, eyes with long black lashes, eyes with scarcely any, eyes with heavy lids—all sorts of eyes, all looking curiously at him. He thought them so pretty that he determined to gather some, and on coming to a very beautiful bright blue eye, he put his hand to the stalk to break it off, but thereupon it wept such floods of tears that the sailor felt sorry for it, and left it glistening on its stem, whereat all the lips burst into a chorus of shrill laughter. But now he was nearing the wonderful Hair Tree, and could think of nothing else. All round it grew a double row of dark green plants, with long stiff leaves, from whose centres grew tall solid silver rods in the place where flowers should be. These rods stood so near together that they made quite a compact railing around the Hair Tree, and it was impossible to get to it without passing through their line.
Drawing close to them, the sailor examined them carefully, to see where they could be gathered, for doubtless these were the rods of which Trevina spoke. They seemed to be fastened into the plants with a sort of hinge, and beneath this Rupert took hold of one to break it off, but no sooner had he begun to pull, than the rod, swinging on its joint, dealt him a smart blow on the face, which made him stagger back, and all the lip flowers laughed again.
“Oh! zirbal nuts,” he cried, taking one from his pocket, “you have helped me before, help me again.” No sooner had he spoken than all the lips cried out, “A nut, a nut—give us a nut!”
Then a beautiful rosy mouth, growing on a very tall stalk, turned to the others and called, “Silence!” and bending towards Rupert said, “Listen; take out your penknife and cut that nut in pieces, and give them to us, and we will bite off some of the silver rods for you, so that you can pass through to the Hair Tree.”
Rupert agreed, and taking out his penknife began to chop up the nut, whilst a number of mouths turned themselves to the silver rods and began to bite their stalks. It was vain for the rods to slash about, they could not hurt the lip-flowers, who went on steadily gnawing till half a dozen rods lay on the ground, leaving a clear path through to the Hair Tree.
Rupert at once gave the pieces of nut to the mouths (which opened greedily to receive them), and walked up to the tree and stood beneath it.
What a wonderful tree it was! The hair rippled down from all its branches, and was of all colours—black outside, and growing lighter and lighter till, quite near the trunk, it was of fine pure gold. Rupert took hold of it and passed it through his fingers. How soft and thick it felt! What would not the court ladies have given for even a tiny branch of it. Then he thought of the Queen’s hair, and turned to look for the seeds.
He found them in little pods growing close to the branches, and at once tried to pull them off. But he found that they grew on hairs so long and thick that he had to take out his knife and cut them, and even then it was a long time before he could gather any quantity. At last he succeeded in picking a handful, and, wrapping them carefully in his handkerchief, placed them in his bosom. When he turned to go, the eye-flowers had all closed, and were evidently fast asleep; the lips, too, were shut and still, and said nothing as he passed them. The black sun was fast sinking, and the black rays had become longer and darker. Rupert walked quickly down to where the yellow swan was waiting, carrying the silver rods with him.
“Make haste,” said the swan; “what a long time you’ve been! It’s getting quite light, and I want to go to sleep.”
“To sleep!” said the sailor, staring. “Why, one goes to sleep when it gets dark, one wakes when it’s light.”
“Does one?” said the swan, scornfully. “That would be very foolish; where would be the use of going to sleep, and shutting one’s eyes in the dark? The dark never hurts anyone’s eyes. Of course one shuts one’s eyes when it’s too light, and it would hurt one to keep them open.”
Rupert was silent, not knowing what to say, and the swan swam with him quickly across the water.
“Now,” he said, as he landed him on the other side, “give me my nut, and take my advice, go away as quickly as you can. It’s getting
