Some of the strands of priceless pearls which decked her lovely head were a trifle awry. She hastily arranged her own beautiful hair before a little mirror she carried. “Here comes the beautiful youth in his little fishing boat!” cried the nymph as she saw the moonlight gleaming upon his bright curls. In the daytime she was invisible to the eye of humans and so the lad had never seen her though she often spent long hours near him, never taking her eyes from his face. A water-nymph who dwelt in the depths of the sea had often observed him. Now the village maidens were not the only ones who had noticed Francisco”s blue eyes and handsome face. The moon”s rays upon his curls made them shine as if they were indeed made of gold. A few moments later and he was fast asleep. The soft air, the gentle rocking of the little boat, and the face of the moon upon which his blue eyes were fixed combined to send sleep to his eyelids. He quickly launched his little fishing boat and soon was floating smoothly along on the peaceful waters of the bay which gleamed like a silver pathway in the moonlight. His mother shook her head anxiously, but, with another loving kiss, the lad ran out into the bright moonlight. Think how many fish I'll bring back for you to sell in the market to-morrow.” “Don”t worry about me, dear mother,” replied Francisco, laughing at her fears. “You have never been fishing in the night before. “Why, my boy, do you do such a thing as this?” she asked. His mother started up from her bed in terror and amazement. “I'm going fishing, mother dear,” he said as he kissed her. He awakened his mother who was dozing comfortably in her bed. One night the moon was so bright that Francisco could not sleep. However, the lad thought only of his fishing boat and his mother and did not notice the smiles. In this way they lived very comfortably, and they loved each other so dearly that they were as happy as happy can be.įrancisco, with his fair skin, blue eyes and thatch of curly golden hair, was the handsomest boy in the whole parish, and by the time he was sixteen years old there was many a rich man”s daughter who had smiled upon him. Every day the boy went fishing in his little boat, and every night he brought home fish for his mother to cook for their evening meal and to carry into the market to sell. In a tiny cottage on the steep rocky hillside of one of the islands of the Azores there lived a poor woman and her only son whose name was Francisco. The Story of a Water-nymph and an Island Lad

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