Now Bluebeard called out so loudly for his wife to come down that his voice shook the whole house.  His lady, not daring to keep him waiting any longer, hurried down the stairs, her hair streaming about her shoulders and her face bathed in tears.  She threw herself on the floor at his feet and begged for mercy.

“There is no use in your pleading,” said Bluebeard; “you must certainly die.”

Then, seizing her by the hair with his left hand, he raised his scimitar, preparing to strike off her head.  The poor woman turned her eyes upon him and begged for a single moment to collect her thoughts.  “No,” he said; “not a moment more.  Commend yourself to God.”

He raised his arm to strike.  Just at that moment there was a loud knocking at the gate, and Bluebeard stopped short in his bloody work.  Two officers in uniform sprang into the castle and ran upon Bluebeard with drawn swords.  The cruel man, seeing they were his wife’s brothers, tried to escape, but they followed and overtook him before he had gone twenty steps.  Though he begged for mercy they listened not to a single word, but thrust him through and through with their swords.

The poor wife, who was almost as dead as her lord, could hardly rise to greet her brothers, but when she learned of Bluebeard’s death she quickly recovered and embraced them heartily.

Bluebeard, it was found, had no heirs, and so all his riches came into the possession of his wife.  She was filled with thankfulness at her rescue, and in repentance for her curiosity she gave her sister a generous portion of her money, and established her brothers in high positions in the army.

As for herself, she afterwards married a worthy gentleman and lived happily to a hale old age.  The beautiful town and country houses were constantly filled with guests, who, after they had convinced themselves that the cruel master was actually dead, made the rooms ring with their joyous laughter and talking.

LULLABY

Come hither, little restless one,
’Tis time to shut your eyes;
The sun behind the hills has gone,
The stars are in the skies.

See, one by one they show their light—­
How clear and bright they look! 
Just like the fireflies in the night,
That shine beside the brook.

You do not hear the robins sing—­
They’re snug within their nest;
And sheltered by their mother’s wing,
The little chickens rest.

The dog, he will not frolic now,
But to his kennel creeps;
The turkeys climb upon the bough,
And e’en the kitten sleeps.

The very violets in their bed
Fold up their eyelids blue,
And you, my flower, must droop your head
And close your eyelids, too.

Then join your little hands and pray
To God, who made the light,
To keep you holy all the day
And guard you through the night.