He got his father's permission to
depart, kissed his parents good-bye, mounted his black horse, and
galloped away down the high road. Soon the gray towers of the old castle
in which he was born hid themselves behind him.
The Prince journeyed on, spending the days in traveling, and the nights
in little wayside inns, till one day he found himself in the heart of
the Adamant Mountains. The great, red granite crags of the surrounding
peaks rose out of the gleaming snow like ugly fingers, and the slopes of
giant glaciers sparkled in the sun like torrents of diamonds. The Prince
sat down by some stunted trees whose tops had long before been broken
off by an avalanche, and began to eat the bit of bread and cheese which
he had stored in his pocket. His black horse, meanwhile, ate the grass
which grew here and there along the mountain path. And as the Prince sat
there in the bright sun and the silence of the mountains, he became
aware of a low, continuous roaring.
"There must be a waterfall near-by," said the Prince to himself. "I'll
go and see it.
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