"Hertha worked always in secret, peering ever in the mirror, lest perchance the long-haired page in crimson clad should slip by and she not see him. For the sheen of his fair hair dazzled her to all other sights, and his face was all she thought of by day and dreamed of by night, so that she often forgot to ply her needle or finger her lute. He was only a page, but she called him prince in her thoughts until she really believed him one. When she worked at the web she sang to herself, 'It is for him--for him!'
"Huberta laughed openly about her web, and her father often teased her about the one for whom it was intended, saying, when the village lads went by, 'Is _that_ thy prince?' or, 'Is it for this one thou weavest?' But he never went with her into that inner room, so he never knew whether the weaving was done well or ill. And he never knew that she cut the web of one year's weaving and gave it to the curly shepherd lad. He wore it with jaunty grace at first, and Huberta spent long hours at the mirror, watching to see him pass by all wrapped within its folds. But it grew tarnished after awhile from his long tramps over the dirty moors after his flocks, and Huberta saw other figures in the mirror which pleased her fancy, and she began another web. And that she gave to a student in cap and gown, and the next to a troubadour strolling past her window, and the next to a knight in armour who rode by one idle summer day.
"The years went by, she scattering her favours to whomsoever called her sweetheart with vows of devotion, and Hertha faithful to the page alone. Hildegarde worked on, true to her promise. But there came a time when a face shone across her mirror so noble and fair that she started back in a flutter.
"'Oh, surely 'tis he,' she whispered to her father. 'His eyes are so blue they fill all my dreams.' But old Hildgardmar answered her, 'Does he measure up to the standard set by the sterling yardstick for a full-grown prince to be?'
"'No,' she answered, sadly. 'Only to the measure of an ordinary man. But see how perfectly the mantle I have woven would fit him!'
"'Nay, weave on, then,' he said, kindly. 'Thou hast not yet reached the best thou canst do. This is not the one written for thee in the stars.'