. She had never felt it like this before. Yes, she would
dance. She must say, "Thank you," for all this somehow; perhaps they
would excuse her if it was not very well expressed.

"This will just be for 'Thank you'" she said as she got up. "I shall
never dance again."

[Illustration: _And then she danced_]

And then she danced. . . .

_Where are you, Hyacinth? There is a lover waiting for you somewhere,
my dear._

It is the first of Spring. The blackbird opens his yellow beak, and
whistles cool and clear. There is blue magic in the morning; the sky,
deep-blue above, melts into white where it meets the hills. The wind
waits for you up yonder--will you go to meet it? Ah, stay here! The
hedges have put on their green coats for you; misty green are the tall
elms from which the rooks are chattering. Along the clean white road,
between the primrose banks, he comes. Will you be round this
corner?----or the next? He is looking for you, Hyacinth.

(She rested, breathless, and then danced again.)

It is summer afternoon. All the village is at rest save one.
"Cuck-oo!" comes from the deep dark trees; "Cuck-oo!" he calls again,
and flies away to send back the answer. The fields, all green and
gold, sleep undisturbed by the full river which creeps along them.
The air is heavy with the scent of may. Where are you, Hyacinth? Is
not this the trysting-place? I have waited for you so long! . . .

She stopped, and the watcher in the bushes moved silently away, his
mind aflame with fancies.

Wiggs went back to the Palace to tell everybody that she could dance.

* * * * *

"Shall we tell her how it happened?" said Udo jauntily. "I just
recited a couple of lines--poetry, you know--backwards, and--well,
here I am!"

"O----oh!" said Wiggs.

CHAPTER XVI

BELVANE ENJOYS HERSELF

The entrance of an attendant into his room that morning to bring him
his early bran-mash had awakened Udo. As soon as she was gone he
jumped up, shook the straw from himself, and said in a very passion of
longing,

_Bo, boll, bill, bole._
_Wo, woll, will, wole._

He felt it was his last chance. Exhausted by his effort, he fell back
on the straw and dropped asleep again. It was nearly an hour later
that he became properly awake.

Into his feelings I shall not enter at any length; I leave that to
Roger Scurvilegs. Between ourselves Roger is a bit of a snob. The
degradation to a Prince of Araby to be turned