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Updated: May 9, 2025
The hollow bell of the sky, swept clear of clouds by the steel broom of the mistral, blazed with blue fire, and the sea was so crystal pure that it seemed one might look down through violet depths into the caves of the mer-people.
But the old lady’s face had grown very gentle and kind. “Klara did not look long. She ran as fast as she could pelt across the golden path, whispering, ‘I’m sorry. I will never do so again. I’m sorry. I will never do so again. I’m sorry. I will never do so again.’ “And as she ran all the little mer-people came to the surface of the water to encourage her.
“A little farther on, Klara came upon a sight even more wonderful than this—a village of mer-people. It was set so far down in the water that it seemed a million miles away. And yet the water was so clear that she felt she could touch the housetops. “The mer-houses seemed to be made of a beautiful, sparkling white coral with big, wide-open windows through which the tide drifted.
Where the surges creamed against the coral beaches and cliffs of jasper and marble, the mer-people arose to view and called to the land men in song, while the fish in the shallows were like wisps of rainbow. It was the habit of these lands never to be where the seeker could readily find them.
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