The great magician Petrosilius Zackleman put on his night-time spectacles, so as to see better in the dark. Then he hurried up to the castle turret, mounted his magic robe and took off.

He flew all over the countryside, keeping a sharp lookout, but all in vain. He could find no trace of Kasperl.

Meanwhile, the moon had risen over the open heath. The fairyweed immediately began to gleam with a silvery light among the roots of the old pine tree.

Quickly Kasperl picked a bunch of the flowers. Now Petrosilius Zackleman couldn’t see him, even with his special night-time spectacles.

Kasperl set off to walk back, holding the fairyweed in his pocket with his right hand. Twice—three times—Zackleman flew by overhead on his magic robe. Kasperl hunched his shoulders and ducked his head. Even if he had not ducked, Zackleman couldn’t have seen him, although the magician was flying so low that Kasperl felt the rush of air as he passed.

The fairyweed made him invisible, but that was not all. Now that the herb was in his pocket, Kasperl didn’t feel tired any longer. His legs seemed to be walking of their own accord. In the faint light of dawn he reached the castle safe and sound.

The gate was shut. Kasperl touched it with the fairyweed and it opened to let him in. At that very moment he heard a tremendous rushing sound in the air above him. Looking up, he saw that Zackleman had just landed on the castle turret. He hoped that Zackleman had not noticed anything peculiar.

But the wicked magician Petrosilius Zackleman had noticed something. A few minutes ago the gate of his castle had opened and shut again all by itself.

“Oho!” he exclaimed. “Goblins and hobgoblins, what’s all this? Someone I can’t see has come into my castle. But who? And how the devil, how did he do it?”

Petrosilius Zackleman snapped his fingers for his magic wand.

“Whoever it is,” he cried in a fury, “I’ll find him. I’ll punish him for his impertinence. Thunder and lightning, sulphur and brimstone, I’ll punish him horribly!”

The great magician ran down the spiral staircase to the ground floor, three steps at a time. By this time Kasperl was on his way to the cellar. He was running down the dark passage towards the toad’s pool. He had no lantern this time, but he didn’t need one; with the fairyweed in his hand he could see in the dark like a cat. The first door—then the second door—and now the third door. . .

“Here I am!” he cried. “I’ve got it. Tell me what to do.”

“Give me your hand and help me out.”

Kasperl lay flat on the floor and stretched out the hand holding the fairyweed to the toad in the pool.

“No, the other one!” croaked the toad. “You must help me out of the water first.”

Kasperl could hear a loud, angry voice just outside the cellar. Petrosilius Zackleman had noticed that the cellar door was open, and a terrible suspicion flashed into his mind. Cursing and raging, he clattered down the steps. It would be only a matter of minutes before he reached them.

“Quick!” cried the toad.

Kasperl seized her with his left hand and put her down on the floor beside him. Zackleman was coming nearer and nearer. The cellar echoed with his shouts and screams of fury.

“Quick!” said the toad again. “Touch me with the fairyweed.”

Kasperl obeyed.

At that moment the wicked magician Petrosilius Zackleman stormed through the last door. But all of a sudden he stopped dead in his tracks.

Kasperl was frightened too—but not at the sight of the wicked magician. He was startled by the light that flooded the cellar. It was a blinding light. Kasperl had to close his eyes. When he opened them again he saw a beautiful lady standing beside him.

She shone like the sun. Everything about her was so beautiful that Kasperl could hardly take it all in—her face, her hands, her hair and her long golden dress.

“Oh!” thought Kasperl. “I’ll be dazzled if I look any longer. . .”

Should he look away? But he couldn’t look away either. So he prudently closed one eye and looked at the fairy out of the other.

Petrosilius Zackleman was standing by the cellar wall as if he had been struck by lightning. His face was white as chalk, his knees were knocking, large beads of perspiration ran down his face. He tried to speak, but he had lost his voice. He was so dazed that the magic wand slipped from his hand.

The wand fell to the ground. The fairy Amaryllis touched it lightly with the toe of her shoe. It rolled over and over and fell into the pool with a splash.

At last Petrosilius Zackleman plucked up his courage.

“Curses!” he screamed.

He jumped forward to save the magic wand. Too late! His fingers grabbed the empty air. He lost his footing, overbalanced—and before Kasperl and the fairy Amaryllis could help him he plunged into the deep water.

There was a last terrible scream.

Then he was swallowed up. Gurgling and bubbling, the deep water of the toad’s pool closed over the wicked magician Petrosilius Zackleman.