of thing! No: I do not really think she has
lost her heart yet; but as she sits at table these are the things she
is feeling:

1. Not at all hungry.

2. Not at all thirsty.

3. What a hateful person that Father Anselm is!

4. Poor, poor young man!

5. Not that she thinks of him in _that_ way, of course. The idea!
Horrid Father Anselm!

6. Any girl at all--no, not girl, _anybody_ at all--who had human
justice would feel exactly as she did about the whole matter.

7. He was very good-looking, too.

8. Did he have--yes, they were blue. Very, very dark blue.

9. And a moustache? Well, yes.

Here she laughed, but no one noticed her idling with her spoon. Then
her eyes filled with tears, and she pretended to be absorbed with the
black-bean broth, though, as a matter of fact, she did not see it in
the least.

10. Why had he come there at all?

11. It was a perfect shame, treating him so.

12. Perhaps they were not blue, after all. But, oh! what a beautiful
sparkle was in them!

After this, she hated Father Anselm worse than ever. And the more she
hated him, the more some very restless delicious something made her
draw long breaths. She positively must go up-stairs and see what He
was doing and what He really looked like. This curiosity seized hold
of her and set her thinking of some way to slip away unseen. The
chance came through all present becoming deeply absorbed in what Sir
Godfrey was saying to Father Anselm.

"Such a low, coarse, untaught brute as a dragon," he explained,
"cannot possibly distinguish good wine from bad."

"Of a surety, no!" responded the monk.

"You agree with me upon that point?" said the Baron.

"Most certainly. Proceed."

"Well, I'm going to see that he gets nothing but the cider and small
beer after this."

"But how will you prevent him, if he visit your cellar again?" Father
Anselm inquired.

"I shall change all the labels, in the first place," the Baron
answered.

"Ha! vastly well conceived," said Father Anselm. "You will label your
Burgundy as if it were beer."

"And next," continued Sir Godfrey, "I shall shift the present
positions of the hogsheads. That I shall do to-day, after relabelling.
In the northern corner of the first wine vault I shall----"

Just as he reached this point, it was quite wonderful how strict an
attention every monk paid to his words. They leaned forward,
forgetting their dinner, and listened with all their might.

One of them, who had