eated herself at the
piano.

Yvette had wings now. She was flying through a clear night, above
the wood and streams. She was flying with delight, opening and
closing her wings, borne by the wind as by a caress. She moved in
the air, which kissed her skin, and she went so fast, so fast, that
she had no time to see anything beneath her, and she found herself
seated on the bank of a pond with a line in her hand; she was
fishing.

Something pulled on the cord, and when she drew it out of the water,
it bore a magnificent pearl necklace, which she had longed for some
time ago. She was not at all astonished at this deed, and she looked
at Servigny, who had come to her side--she knew not how. He was
fishing also, and drew out of the river a wooden horse.

Then she had anew the feeling of awaking, and she heard some one
calling down stairs. Her mother had said:

"Put out the candle." Then Servigny's voice rose, clear and jesting:

"Put out your candle, Mam'zelle Yvette."

And all took up the chorus: "Mam'zelle Yvette, put out your candle."

She again poured chloroform on the cotton, but, as she did not want
to die, she placed it far enough from her face to breathe the fresh
air, while nevertheless her room was filled with the asphyxiating
odor of the narcotic, for she knew that some one was coming, and
taking a suitable posture, a pose of the dead, she waited.

The Marquise said: "I am a little uneasy! That foolish child has
gone to sleep leaving the light on her table. I will send Clemence
to put it out, and to shut the balcony window, which is wide open."

And soon the maid rapped on the door calling: "Mademoiselle,
Mademoiselle!" After a moment's silence, she repeated: "Mademoiselle,
Madame the Marquise begs you to put out your candle and shut the window."

Clemence waited a little, then knocked louder, and cried:

"Mademoiselle, Mademoiselle!"

As Yvette did not reply, the servant went away and reported to the
Marquise:

"Mademoiselle must have gone to sleep, her door is bolted, and I
could not awaken her."

Madame Obardi murmured:

"But she must not stay like that,"

Then, at the suggestion of Servigny, they all gathered under the
window, shouting in chorus:

"Hip! hip! hurrah! Mam'zelle Yvette."

Their clamor rose in the calm night, through the transparent air
beneath the moon, over the sleeping country; and they heard it die
away in the distance like the sound of a disappearing train.

As Yvette