The man‚ who loved her‚ thought‚ “Sooner than let my lovely wife die‚ I will bring her some of the rapunzel myself‚ no matter what the cost.”
In the twilight of the evening‚ he climbed over the wall into the garden of the witch‚ hastily grabbed a handful of rapunzel and took it to his wife. She at once made herself a salad and ate it happily. She, however‚ liked it so much — so very much‚ that the next day she longed for it three times as much as before. If he was to have any rest‚ her husband must once more descend into the garden. In the gloom of evening‚ therefore‚ he set out again; but when he had climbed over the wall he was terribly afraid‚ for he saw the witch standing before him.
“How dare you‚” she said with angry look‚ “sneak into my garden and steal my rapunzel like a thief? You shall suffer for this!”
“Ah‚” the frightened husband answered‚ “please have mercy‚ I had to have the rapunzel. My wife saw it from the window and felt such a longing for it that she would have died if she had not got some to eat.”