ayed with a good spirit. The sentinel below
heard her, but he took care to keep a steady and level eye. When the
swan rose past him, spreading its wings almost against his face, he
prudently trod the wall without turning his head.

"He, Shubenacadie," said the human morsel to her familiar as the wide
wings composed themselves beside her. "We had scarce said good-morning
when I must be haled before my lady for that box of the Hollandaise."
The swan was a huge white creature of his kind, with fiery eyes. There
was satin texture delightful to the touch in the firm and glistening
plumage of his swelling breast. Le Rossignol smoothed it.

"They have few trinkets in that barbarous Fort Orange in the west. I
detest that Hollandaise more since she carries about such a casket. Let
us be cozy. Kiss me, Shubenacadie."

The swan's attachment and obedience to her were struggling against some
swan-like instinct which made him rear a lofty head and twist it
riverward.

"Kiss me, I say! Shall I have to beat thee over the head with my clavier
to teach thee manners?"

Shubenacadie darted his snake neck downward and touched bills with her.
She patted his coral nostrils.

"Not yet. Before you take to the water we must have some talk. I am shut
up here to stay this whole day. And for what? Not because of the casket,
for they know not what I have done with it. But because thou and I
sometimes go out without the password. Stick out thy toes and let me
polish them."

Shubenacadie resisted this mandate, and his autocrat promptly dragged
one foot from under him, causing him to topple on the parapet. He
hissed at her. Le Rossignol looked up at the threatening flat head and
hissed back.

"You are as bad as that Swiss," she laughed. "I will put a yoke on you.
I will tie you to the settle in the hall. Why have all man creatures
such tempers? Thank heaven I was not born to hose and doublet. Never did
I see a mild man in my life except Edelwald. As for this Swiss, I am
done with him. He hath a wife, Shubenacadie. She sits down there by the
oven now; a miserable thing turned off by D'Aulnay de Charnisay. Have I
told thee the Swiss had a soul above a common soldier and I picked him
out to pay court to me? Beat me for it. Pull the red hair he condemned.
I would have had him sighing for me that I might pity him. The populace
is beneath us, but we must amuse ourselves. Beat me, I demand. Punish me
well for abasing my eyes to that Swiss."

Shube