even more so when she laughed.

"Why do you have three lamps on the table?" said she.

"That is the custom," answered my wife, "when a bride comes to the
house."

"How lovely!" exclaimed Martella. "The one light stands for us who are
as one. The other two lights represent the parents." And she laughed
most heartily. Her next question was, "Why do you have two clocks in
your room?"

"You ask a great many questions," I could not avoid answering. But my
wife said, "That is right. Always ask questions, and you will soon
learn all that you need know."

Martella may have imagined that she had been too precipitate, for she
soon said:

"To-morrow is yet another day. I am so tired. I would like to go to
sleep now. But I must have my dog with me, or else I cannot rest."

Indeed, her gentle good-night and her curtsey seemed strangely at
variance with her usually bold and defiant manner.

When she had left us, my wife said to me, "Do not take this affair to
heart. It is indeed no trifle. But remember that Ernst might have made
a much more serious mistake. He loves the wild creature, and our duty
is to help him as best we can. Let Rothfuss and me take charge of the
girl. For the present, you had better treat her with an air of reserve.
We two will attend to all. You may be glad that we have so faithful a
servant as Rothfuss. They are friends already, and he says, 'By the
time the potatoes are brought home, she will lay aside her red
stockings.' I was wishing for that on our way here. But she refused so
positively, that I desisted from my endeavors to persuade her."

After a little while, she continued:

"A voice in the forest helped me to bring all things about as they
should be. I heard the cuckoo's cry, and was reminded by that, that he
would leave his young in a strange nest, and that other birds would
patiently and affectionately nurture the strange birdling. We are
something like these cuckoo parents. What they do without thought, we
do consciously."

When at early dawn on the following day, I looked out of my window, I
saw Martella and her dog at the fountain in front of the house. Seen by
day, and in her light attire, she seemed wondrously beautiful and
fascinating.

She washed her face and plaited her thick brown hair. Her every
movement seemed free and noble, and almost graceful enough to please an
artist's eye.

She sang in a low voice, and would from time to time exclaim, "Cuckoo!"

Rothfuss, who saw t