ignol. Her music tinkled louder and faster.
The playing sprite, sitting half on air, gamboled and made droll faces
to catch his eye. Her vanity and self-satisfaction, her pliant gesture
and skillful wild music, made her appear some soulless little being from
the woods who mocked at man's tense sternness.

Klussman took little notice of any one in the hall, but waited by the
closed door so relentless a sentinel that Zelie was reminded of her
duty. She made haste to bring perfumed water in a basin, and turned the
linen on the settle. She then took the child from its mother's limp
hands, and exclaimed and muttered under her breath as she turned it on
her knees.

"What hast thou done to it since my lady left thee?" inquired Zelie
sharply. But she got no answer from the girl.

Unrewarded for her minstrelsy by a single look from the Swiss, Le
Rossignol quit playing, and made a fist of the curved instrument to
shake at him, and let herself down the back of the settle. She sat on
the mandolin box in shadow, vaguely sulking, until Madame La Tour, fresh
from her swift attiring, stood at the top of the stairway. That instant
the half-hid mandolin burst into quavering melodies.

"Thou art back again, Nightingale?" called the lady, descending.

"Yes, Madame Marie."

"Madame!" exclaimed Klussman, and as his voice escaped repression it
rang through the hall. He advanced, but his lady lifted her finger to
hold him back.

"Presently, Klussman. The first matter in hand is to rebuke this
runaway."

Marie's firm and polished chin, the contour of her glowing mouth, and
the kindling beauty of her eyes were forever fresh delights to Le
Rossignol. The dwarf watched the shapely and majestic woman moving down
the hall.

"Madame," besought Zelie, looking anxiously around the end of the
settle. But she also was obliged to wait. Marie extended a hand to the
claws of Le Rossignol, who touched it with her beak.

"Thou hast very greatly displeased me."

"Yes, Madame Marie," said the culprit, with resignation.

"How many times have you set all our people talking about these witch
flights on the swan, and sudden returns after dark?"

"I forget, Madame Marie."

"In all seriousness thou shalt be well punished for this last," said the
lady severely.

"I was punished before the offense. Your absence punished me, Madame
Marie."

"A bit of adroit flattery will not turn aside discipline. The smallest
vassal in the fort shall know that. A