had been. Magic tricks like this Neusiedl Lake has played more than once
on trusting mortals.

On either side of the peninsula on which stood the Nameless Castle was a
little cove. One of these the count had spoken of to Marie; the other
separated the castle from the village of Fertoeszeg.

The manor, the habitation of the owner of the Fertoeszeg estate, stood on
the slope of a hill at the eastern end of the village, and fronted, as
did the neighboring castle, on the lake.

In the second half of the month of August, in the year 1806, one might
have seen from the veranda of the manor, after the sun had gone down and
the marvelous tints of the evening sky were reflected in the water, a
small boat speed out from the cove on the farther side of the Nameless
Castle, trailing after it a long silvery streak on the parti-colored
surface of the lake. A solitary man sat in the boat.

But what could not be seen from the veranda of the manor was that a
girlish form swam a little in advance of the boat.

Marie had proved an excellent scholar in the school of the hydriads.
Already after the fourth lesson she could swim alone, and sped over the
waves as lightly and gracefully as a swan.

She did not need to wear a hat on these evening swimming excursions; her
long hair floated unbound after her on the waves. When the twilight
shadows deepened, the swimmer would speed far ahead of the accompanying
canoe. She had lost all fear of the water. The waves were her
friends--they knew each other well. When she wished to rest, she would
turn her face to the sky, fold her arms across her breast, and lie on
the waves as among swelling cushions like a child in a rocking cradle.
And here she was allowed the full privileges of a child. She shouted;
called to the startled wild geese; teased the night-swallows, and the
bats skimming along the surface of the lake in quest of water-spiders.
Here she even ventured to sing, and gave voice to charming melodies,
which floated over the water like the sounds of an AEolian harp.

Many hours were spent thus on the lake. The little maid never wearied of
the water. The protecting element restored to her nerves the strength
which the stepmotherly earth had taken from them. A promenade of a
hundred steps would tire her so that she would have to stop and rest.
She had become unused to walking. But here in the water she moved about
like a Naiad; her whole being was transformed; she lived! Then, when her
guar