id."

He seemed embarrassed and ashamed, and, instead of replying to me,
turned to address some words of reproach to the girl.

"I am waiting for your answer," said I, peremptorily.

"It is the saucy way she has gotten, your Excellency, all from
over-flattery; and now that she sees that there is no audience here,
none but your Excellency, she is impatient to be off again. She'll never
do anything for us on the night of a thin house."

"Is this the truth, Tintefleck?" asked I.

With a wild volubility, of which I could not gather a word, but
every accent of which indicated passion, if not anger, she poured out
something to the other, and then turned as if to leave the room. He
interposed quickly, and spoke to her, at first angrily, but at last in a
soothing and entreating tone, which seemed gradually to calm her.

"There is more in this than you have told, Vaterchen," said I. "Let me
know at once why she is impatient to get away."

"I would leave it to herself to tell your Excellency," said he, with
much confusion, "but that you could not understand her mountain dialect.
The fact is," added he, after a great struggle with himself,--"the fact
is, she is offended at your calling her 'Tintefleck.' She is satisfied
to be so named amongst ourselves, where we all have similar nicknames;
but that you, a great personage, high and rich and titled, should do so,
wounds her deeply. Had you said--"

Here he whispered me in my ear, and, almost inadvertently, I repeated
after him, "Catinka."

"_Si, si_, Catinka," said she, while her eyes sparkled with an
expression of wildest delight, and at the same instant she bounded
forward and kissed my hand twice over.

I was glad to have made my peace, and, placing a chair for her at the
table, I filled out a glass of wine and presented it. She only shook her
head in dissent, and pushed it away.

"She has odd ways in everything," said the old man; "she never eats but
bread and water. It is her notion that if she were to taste other food
she 'd lose her gift of fortune-telling."

"So, then, she reads destiny too?" said I, in astonishment.

Before I could inquire further, she swept her hands across the strings
of her guitar, and broke out into a little peasant song. It was very
monotonous, but pleasing. Of course, I knew nothing of the words nor
the meaning, but it seemed as though one thought kept ever and anon
recurring in the melody, and would continue to rise to the surface, lik