“Yes; and children understand how to desire what is impossible.  But grown persons are clever enough to know how to impose on the children.  Three years ago I asked thee to bring me some one with whom I could talk—­some one who would be company for me.  Thou broughtest me cats and dogs and a bird!  Two years ago I wished I might learn how to make pictures; and I was given paper patterns to color with water-colors.  One year ago to-day I wished I might learn how to make music; and a hand-organ was bought for me.  Oh, yes; my wishes have always been fulfilled, but always in a way that cheated me.  Children are always treated so.  To-day thou sayest that I am fifteen years old, and that I am not any more to be treated as a child.  Mark that!  To-day, as heretofore, I ask something of thee which thou canst give me—­and thou canst not cheat me, either!”

“Whatever it may be, thou shalt have it, Marie.”

“Thy hand on it!  Now, thou knowest that I asked thee not long ago to send to Paris for a ‘Melusine costume’ for me!”

“And has it not already arrived?  I myself delivered the box into thy hands.”

“Knowest thou what a Melusine costume is?  See, this is it.”

With these words she sprang from her seat, untied the cord about her waist, flung off the silken wrapper, and stood in front of the speechless young man in one of those costumes worn by Paris dames at the sea-shore when they disport themselves amid the waves of the ocean.  The Melusine costume was a bathing-dress.

“To-day, Ludwig, I ask that thou wilt teach me how to swim.  The lake is just out yonder below the garden.”

The maid, in her pale-blue bathing-dress, looked like one of those fairy-like creatures in Shakspere’s “Midsummer Night’s Dream,” innocent and alluring, child and siren.

Disconcerted and embarrassed, Ludwig raised his hand.

“Art thou going to strike me?” inquired the child, half crying, half laughing.

“Pray put on the wrapper again!” said Ludwig, taking the garment from the sofa and with it veiling the model for a Naiad.  “What sort of a caprice is this?”

“I have had the thought in my head for a long, long time, and I beg that thou wilt grant my request.  Thou canst not say that thou canst not swim; for once, when we were traveling in great haste, I know not why, we came to a river, and found that the boat was on the farther shore.  Thou swammest across, and broughtest back the boat in which the four of us then crossed to the other side.  Already then the desire to swim arose in me.  What a delicious sensation to swim through the water—­to make wings of one’s arms and fly like a bird!  Since we live in this castle the wish has become stronger.  Night after night I dream that I am cleaving through the waves.  I never see God’s sky when I go out, because I have to cover my face.  It is just like looking at creation through a grating!  I should love dearly to sing and shout for joy; but