the Countess of
Charolois quietly.

"Well, then, I will--What would you have me to do, sir?"

Gerard had just found out what high society he was in. "My sovereign
demoiselle," said he, gently and a little tremulously, "where there have
been no pains, there needs no reward."

But we must obey mamma. All the world must obey

"That is true. Then, our demoiselle, reward me, if you will by letting
me hear the stave you were going to sing and I did interrupt it."

"What! you love music, sir?"

"I adore it."

The little princess looked inquiringly at her mother, and received a
smile of assent. She then took her lute and sang a romaunt of the day.
Although but twelve years old, she was a well-taught and painstaking
musician. Her little claw swept the chords with Courage and precision,
and struck out the notes of the arpeggio clear, and distinct, and
bright, like twinkling stars; but the main charm was her voice. It was
not mighty, but it was round, clear, full, and ringing like a bell. She
sang with a certain modest eloquence, though she knew none of the tricks
of feeling. She was too young to be theatrical, or even sentimental,
so nothing was forced--all gushed. Her little mouth seemed the mouth of
Nature. The ditty, too, was as pure as its utterance. As there were none
of those false divisions--those whining slurs, which are now sold so
dear by Italian songsters, though every jackal in India delivers them
gratis to his customers all night, and sometimes gets shot for them, and
always deserves it--so there were no cadences and fiorituri, the trite,
turgid, and feeble expletives of song, the skim-milk with which mindless
musicians and mindless writers quench fire, wash out colour, and drown
melody and meaning dead.

While the pure and tender strain was flowing from the pure young throat,
Gerard's eyes filled. The Countess watched him with interest, for it
was usual to applaud the Princess loudly, but not with cheek and eye.
So when the voice ceased, and the glasses left off ringing, she asked
demurely, "Was he content?"

Gerard gave a little start; the spoken voice broke a charm and brought
him back to earth.

"Oh, madam!" he cried, "surely it is thus that cherubs and seraphs sing,
and charm the saints in heaven."

"I am somewhat of your opinion, my young friend," said the Countess,
with emotion; and she bent a look of love and gentle pride upon her
girl: a heavenly look, such as, they say, is given to the eye of