e
door."

"_Abracadabra!_" cried Finette. "May you hold the door, villain, and
may the door hold you till daybreak."

And behold! the door opened and shut, and slammed against the walls
like an eagle flapping its wings. You may judge what a dance the poor
captive kept up all night. Never had he tried such a waltz, and I
imagine that he never wished to dance a second one of the same sort.
Sometimes the door swung open with him in the street; sometimes it
flew back and crushed him against the wall. He swung backward and
forward, screaming, swearing, weeping, and praying, but all in vain;
the door was deaf, and Finette asleep.

At daybreak his hands unclasped and he fell in the road head foremost.
Without waiting to finish his errand, he ran as if the Moors were
after him. He did not even turn round, for fear that the door might be
at his heels. Fortunately for him, all were still asleep when he
reached the village, and he could hide himself in bed without any one
seeing his deplorable plight. This was a great piece of good fortune
for him, for he was covered with whitewash from head to foot, and so
pale, haggard, and trembling that he might have been taken for the
ghost of a miller escaped from the infernal regions.

When Finette opened her eyes she saw by her bedside a tall man dressed
in black, with a velvet cap and a sword. It was the seneschal of the
barony of Kerver. He stood with his arms folded, gazing at Finette in
a way that chilled the very marrow of her bones.

"What is your name, vassal?" said he, in a voice of thunder.

"Finette, at your service, my lord," replied she, trembling.

"Is this house and furniture yours?"

"Yes, my lord, everything, at your service."

"I mean that it shall be at my service," returned the seneschal,
sternly. "Rise, vassal! I do you the honor to marry you, and to take
yourself, your person, and your property under my guardianship."

"My lord," returned Finette, "this is much too great an honor for a
poor girl like me, a stranger, without friends or kindred."

"Be silent, vassal!" replied the seneschal. "I am your lord and
master; I have nothing to do with your advice. Sign this paper."

"My lord," said Finette, "I don't know how to write."

"Do you think that I do, either?" returned the seneschal, in a voice
that shook the house. "Do you take me for a clerk? A cross--that is
the signature of gentlemen."

He made a large cross on the paper, and handed the pen to Fine