mends for the
brief spring--like the frugal mother who stores away in May gifts with
which to surprise her children later in the season.

Down at the lake, a merry crowd of naked children disported in the
water; their shouts and laughter could be heard at the castle. Ludwig
fully understood the deep melancholy which had settled on Marie's
countenance. Her sole amusement, her greatest happiness, had been taken
from her. Other high-born maidens had so many ways of enjoying
themselves; she had none. No train of admirers paid court to her. No
strains of merry dance-music entranced her ear. Celebrated actors came
and went; she did not delight in their performances--she had never even
seen a theater. She had no girl friends with whom to exchange
confidences--with whom to make merry over the silly flatterers who paid
court to them; no acquaintances whose envy she could arouse by the
magnificence of her toilets--one of the greatest pleasures in life!

She had no other flatterers but her cats; no other confidantes but her
cats; no other actors but her cats. The world of waves had been her sole
enjoyment. The water had been her theater, balls, concert--the great
world. It was her freedom. The land was a prison.

Again it was the full of the moon, and quite warm. The tulip-formed
blossoms of the luxuriant water-lilies were in bloom along the lake
shore. Ludwig's heart ached with pity for the little maid when he saw
how sorrowfully she gazed from her window on the glittering lake.

"Come, Marie," he said, "fetch your bathing-dress, and let us try the
lake again. I will stay close by you, and take good care that nothing
frightens you. We will not go out of the cove."

How delighted the child was to hear these words! She danced and skipped
for joy; she called him her dear Ludwig. Then she hunted up the
discarded Melusine costume, and hastened with such speed toward the
shore that Ludwig was obliged to run to keep up with her. But the nearer
she approached to the bath-house, the less quickly she walked; and when
she stood in the doorway she said:

"Oh, how my heart beats!"

When Ludwig appeared with the canoe from behind the willows, the
charming Naiad stepped from the bath-house. The rippling waves bore the
moonlight to her feet, where she stood on the narrow platform which
projected into the lake. She knelt and, bending forward, kissed the
water; it was her beloved! After a moment's hesitation she dropped
gently from the pla