green like a disordered wreath.

"O thou!" he said, "by whatever name I must honour thee, whether thou art
a goddess or a nymph, a spirit or a phantom, speak! Doth thine own will
call thee to earth, or doth another's power bind thee in this vale? Ah! I
comprehend--surely some disdained lover, some powerful lord or envious
guardian imprisons thee in this castle park as if under enchantment! Thou
art worthy that knights should fight for thee in arms, and that thou
shouldst be the heroine of mournful ballads! Unfold to me, fair one, the
secret of thy dreadful fate! Thou shalt find a deliverer--henceforth, as
thou rulest my heart by thy nod, so rule my arm."

He stretched forth his arms.--She listened to him with a maiden's blush,
but with a face once more cheerful. As a child likes to look at gay
pictures and finds amusement in glittering counters before he learns their
true worth, so her ears were soothed by the sounding words of which she
did not understand the meaning. Finally she asked: "Where do you come
from, sir, and what are you looking for here in the garden?"

The Count opened his eyes, confused and amazed, and did not reply.
Finally, lowering the tone of his discourse, he said:--

"Pardon me, my little lady; I see that I have spoiled your fun! O pardon
me, I was just hurrying to breakfast; it is late and I wanted to get there
on time. You know that by the road one has to make a circuit; through the
garden it seems to me there is a short cut to the house."

"There is your way, sir," said the girl; "only you must not spoil the
vegetable beds; there is the path between the strips of grass."

"To the left?" asked the Count, "or to the right?"

The little gardener, filled with curiosity, raised her blue eyes and
seemed to scrutinise him, for a thousand steps away the house was in plain
sight, and the Count was asking the way! But the Count needs must say
something to her, and was seeking an excuse for conversation.

"Do you live here? near the garden? or in the village? How happens it that
I have not seen you at the mansion? Have you come recently? Perhaps you
are a visitor?"

The girl shook her head.

"Pardon me, my little lady, but is not that your room, where we see the
window?"

"If she is not a heroine of romance," he was thinking to himself, "she is
a young and fresh and very pretty girl. Very often a great soul, a great
thought, hidden in solitude, blooms like the rose in the midst of the
forest; i