so. To-day thou sayest that I am fifteen years old, and that I
am not any more to be treated as a child. Mark that! To-day, as
heretofore, I ask something of thee which thou canst give me--and thou
canst not cheat me, either!"

"Whatever it may be, thou shalt have it, Marie."

"Thy hand on it! Now, thou knowest that I asked thee not long ago to
send to Paris for a 'Melusine costume' for me!"

"And has it not already arrived? I myself delivered the box into thy
hands."

"Knowest thou what a Melusine costume is? See, this is it."

With these words she sprang from her seat, untied the cord about her
waist, flung off the silken wrapper, and stood in front of the
speechless young man in one of those costumes worn by Paris dames at the
sea-shore when they disport themselves amid the waves of the ocean. The
Melusine costume was a bathing-dress.

"To-day, Ludwig, I ask that thou wilt teach me how to swim. The lake is
just out yonder below the garden."

The maid, in her pale-blue bathing-dress, looked like one of those
fairy-like creatures in Shakspere's "Midsummer Night's Dream," innocent
and alluring, child and siren.

Disconcerted and embarrassed, Ludwig raised his hand.

"Art thou going to strike me?" inquired the child, half crying, half
laughing.

"Pray put on the wrapper again!" said Ludwig, taking the garment from
the sofa and with it veiling the model for a Naiad. "What sort of a
caprice is this?"

"I have had the thought in my head for a long, long time, and I beg that
thou wilt grant my request. Thou canst not say that thou canst not swim;
for once, when we were traveling in great haste, I know not why, we came
to a river, and found that the boat was on the farther shore. Thou
swammest across, and broughtest back the boat in which the four of us
then crossed to the other side. Already then the desire to swim arose in
me. What a delicious sensation to swim through the water--to make wings
of one's arms and fly like a bird! Since we live in this castle the wish
has become stronger. Night after night I dream that I am cleaving
through the waves. I never see God's sky when I go out, because I have
to cover my face. It is just like looking at creation through a grating!
I should love dearly to sing and shout for joy; but I dare not, for I am
afraid the trees, the walls, the people, might hear me and betray me.
But out yonder I could float on the green waves, where I should meet no
one, where no one would see