'Moi? C'est aut'chose,' answered the girl, gayly tossing her
pretty head.

'Then I shall come out and carry you back, wilful child,' said the
surgeon.

A peal of laughter broke from Jeannette as he spoke and then she began
to dance on her point of rock, swinging herself from side to side,
marking the time with a song. I held my breath; her dance seemed
unearthly; it was as though she belonged to the Prince of the Powers
of the Air.

At length the surgeon reached the centre and caught the mocking
creature in his arms: neither spoke, but I could see the flash of
their eyes as they stood for an instant motionless. Then they
struggled on the narrow foothold and swayed over so far that I buried
my face in my trembling hands, unable to look at the dreadful end.
When I opened my eyes again all was still; the Arch was tenantless,
and no sound came from below. Were they, then, so soon dead? Without
a cry? I forced myself to the brink to look down, over the precipice;
but while I stood there, fearing to look, I heard a sound behind me in
the woods. It was Jeannette singing a gay French song. I called to her
to stop. 'How could you!' I said severely, for I was still trembling
with agitation.

'Ce n'est rien, madame. I cross l'Arche when I had five year.
Mais, Monsieur Rodenai le Grand, he raise his eye to look
this time, I think,' said Jeannette, laughing triumphantly.

'Where is he?'