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There was once a miller who had one beautiful daughter, and as

she was grown up, he was anxious that she should be well married

and provided for. He said to himself, 'I will give her to the

first suitable man who comes and asks for her hand.' Not long

after a suitor appeared, and as he appeared to be very rich and

the miller could see nothing in him with which to find fault, he

betrothed his daughter to him. But the girl did not care for the

man as a girl ought to care for her betrothed husband. She did

not feel that she could trust him, and she could not look at him

nor think of him without an inward shudder. One day he said to

her, 'You have not yet paid me a visit, although we have been

betrothed for some time.' 'I do not know where your house is,'

she answered. 'My house is out there in the dark forest,' he

said. She tried to excuse herself by saying that she would not be

able to find the way thither.