"To-night," she said, "_I_ shall stay awake all night, and if the
moonlight is very nice and bright I shall come and wake _you_, you
sleepy Cheri. I do _so_ want to go up those steps and into the castle
where the peacocks are standing at the door."

"So do I," said Hugh, rather mortified; "but if one goes to sleep,
whose fault is it? I am sure you will go to sleep too, if you try to
keep awake. There's _nothing_ makes people go to sleep so fast as trying
to keep awake."

"Well, don't try then," said Jeanne, "and see what comes then."

And when night came, Hugh, partly perhaps because he was particularly
sleepy--the day had been so much finer that the children had had some
splendid runs up and down the long terrace walk in the garden, and the
unusual exercise had made both of them very ready for bed when the time
came--took Jeanne's advice, tucked himself up snugly and went off to
sleep without thinking of the moonlight, or the peacocks, or Dudu, or
anything. He slept so soundly, that when he awoke he thought it was
morning, and brighter morning than had hitherto greeted him since he
came to Jeanne's home.

"Dear me!" he said to himself, rubbing his eyes, "it must be very late;
it looks just as if summer had come," for the whole room was flooded
with light--such beautiful light--bright and clear, and yet soft. No
wonder that Hugh rubbed his eyes in bewilderment--it was not till he sat
up in bed and looked well about him, quite awake now, that he saw that
after all it was moonlight, not sunshine, which was illumining the old
tapestry room and everything which it contained in this wonderful way.

"Oh, how pretty it is!" thought Hugh. "No wonder Marcelline told us that
we should see the tapestry in the moonlight. I never could have thought
it would have looked so pretty. Why, even the peacocks' tails seem to
have got all sorts of new colours."

He leant forward to examine them better. They were standing--just as
usual--one on each side of the flight of steps leading up to the castle.
But as Hugh gazed at them it certainly seemed to him--could it be his
fancy only?--no, it _must_ be true--that their long tails grew longer
and swept the ground more majestically--then that suddenly--fluff! a
sort of little wind seemed to rustle for an instant, and fluff! again,
the two peacocks had spread their tails, and now stood with them proudly
reared fan-like, at their backs, just like the real living birds that
Hugh had often