re," I said.

"Yes, I found it on the map this morning," she nodded. "We are close to
the Straits of Magellan!"

At that moment the sound of the piano sailed through the door at the
end of the corridor. She turned her head slightly, and then moved away
restlessly. She went to the chair on which I had been sitting and
picked up my Tennyson.

"I know him pretty well," she remarked, turning the pages. She halted
where I had inserted a marker.

"'The Princess,'" she said slowly. She drummed her fingers on the leaf,
read for a minute or two, and dropped the book lightly. "We have no
literature in comparison with yours, Dr. Phillimore; but we have
sometimes done better than that."

"Oh, not than the lyrics," I protested lightly. "_Ask me no more_----"

The music from without broke into louder evidence, and she turned
frowning towards the door.

"Do you know, Dr. Phillimore," she asked hesitatingly, "if Mr. Morland
is in his room?"

"He went after lunch," I answered. She stood considering.

"Mademoiselle has a beautiful voice," I said tentatively.

"Oh, yes," she assented. "It is of good quality and training." Her tone
was curt, as if she were unwilling to continue the conversation, but
she still listened.

Einsam Wandelt dein Freund im Fruehlings garten.

It seemed to me that I could almost hear the words in that uplifted
music. The song has always been a passionate fancy of mine, beguiling
the heart of rock to romance. Sentiment is on wing in every corner of
one's consciousness when that song rises in its fulness and falls in
its cadences on one's ears and deeper senses.

In der Spiegelnden Fluth, in Schnee der Alpen....
... strahlt dein Bildniss.

I could see Mademoiselle Trebizond at the piano with the vision of the
mind, her soul enrapt, her features transfigured. She was a figment of
the emotions. And the Princess and I listened, she with a little
dubitating look of perplexity, paying me no heed now, and I singularly
moved. I walked down the corridor, past where Princess Alix stood, and
as I went by I could have put out my arm and drawn her to me. She was
wonderful in her beauty and her pride.

Deutlich schimmert auf jedem purpur blaettchen.

But I went by and opened the door that gave upon the saloon stairs.
Instantly the flood of music rolled into the room in a tide, and,
glancing back, I saw the Princess stir. She came towards me.

"A voice is a beautiful machine," she said uncert