and women, and even children. They envied Nan for her yellow curls or
her blue eyes, or her pretty snuff-colored gown. When the sun set, the
yard in front of Dame Clementina's cottage was full of people. Lastly,
just before dark, the count himself came ambling up on a coal-black
horse. The count was a majestic old man dressed in velvet, with stars
on his breast. His white hair fell in long curls on his shoulders, and
he had a pointed beard. As he came to the gate, he caught a glimpse of
Nan in the door.

"How I wish that little maiden was my child," said he.

And, straightway, he stopped. His horse pawed and trembled when he
lashed him with a jewelled whip to make him go on; but he could not
stir forward one step. Neither could the count dismount from his
saddle; he sat there fuming with rage.

Meanwhile, poor Dame Clementina and little Nan were overcome with
distress. The sight of their yard full of all these weeping people was
dreadful. Neither of them had any idea how to do away with the
trouble, because of their family inability to see their way out of a
difficulty.

When supper time came, Nan went for the cows, and her mother milked
them into her silver milk pails, and strained off the milk into her
silver pans. Then they kindled up a fire and cooked some beautiful
milk porridge for the poor people in the yard, and then carried them
each a bowlful.

It was a beautiful warm moonlight night, and all the winds were sweet
with roses and pinks; so the people could not suffer out of doors; but