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Atven was so astonished that he stared at the child-figure as if turned into a statue himself. Then he realized that his long search had been rewarded, and he fell on his knees and prayed that the Stone-maiden might be released from her prison, and given to him to be a little playfellow.
All the short Northern summer, Atven spent his evenings in searching about amongst "Thor's balls" for traces of the warriors of the old legend; and one night, in the soft clearness of the twilight, he came upon something that rewarded him for all his patient perseverance.
The country people called them "Thor's balls;" and Atven often wandered about amongst them, trying to find likenesses to the old warriors in their weather-worn surfaces; and peering into every hole and cranny half dreading, half hoping to see a stone hand stretched out to him from the misty shadows of the past.
"But we will all love you now," cried Atven. "I will grow tall and strong to work for you, and you shall never be unhappy any more!" The Stone-maiden smiled, as she stood on the threshold of her new life. She looked up trustingly at her two friends, and the old Priest of Asgard, bending down, laid his hand upon her head with a gentle blessing.
The very hens cackled loudly for joy and Atven would caress them all with his brown hand, and had a kind word for every one of them.
She raised her hands, breathed gently, and lifting her head, gazed at the old Priest and the boy with wistful brown eyes, like those of the figure Atven had met in the forest. "Where is my father? Where am I?" she asked, in a low soft voice, as she rose up from the rock, and shook out the folds of her long dress.
Grandmother Maddalena was too old to move out of the house now, but Father Giacomo watered the beans lovingly, and in the soft spring air they grew rapidly, so that they soon formed a beautiful tangle, hiding the cross and even the name that still stood there clearly in black letters Atven was the son of a fisherman, and lived with his father on a flat sandy coast far away in the North-land.
A cold air seemed to breathe upon me, and I fell asleep." She spoke slowly, in the old Norse tongue, but Father Johannes had studied it, and understood her without much questioning. "Where was your mother?" he asked kindly, as Atven with smiles of delight, seized her other hand. "My mother died just before we set sail, and my father would not leave me lonely," answered the Stone-maiden sadly.
These, Atven decided, must be the heads of the ancient Norsemen, and further on stood their huge mis-shapen bodies, twisted into every imaginable form, and covered by myriads of shell-fish, that clung to their grey sides like suits of shining armour. Atven was often lonely; for he had no brothers or sisters, and his mother had died many years before.
To-morrow!" he said to himself, "When Father Johannes comes, he will help me." Early next morning the old Priest knocked at the door of the fisherman's hut. He had started at daybreak, for he knew that Atven would be anxiously awaiting him.
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