hair, the colour of ripe yellow wheat, rose from her smooth white
forehead and descended in a thick braid that almost reached to the
floor. She was dressed in the humble garb of a serving maiden, the
square bit of lace on her crown of fair hair and the apron she wore, as
spotless as new fallen snow. In her hand she held a tray which
supported a loaf of bread and a huge flagon brimming with wine. On
seeing the Count, her quick breathing stopped for the moment and she
dropped a low courtesy.

"My Lord," she said, but there came a catch in her throat, and she
could speak no further.

Seeing that he had to deal with no spirit, but with an inhabitant of
the world he knew and did not fear, there arose a strange exultation in
the heart of the Count as he looked upon this fair representative of
his own country. For ten years he had seen no woman, and now a sudden
sense of what he had lost overwhelmed him, his own breath coming
quicker as the realisation of this impressed itself upon him. He strode
rapidly toward her, and she seemed to shrink into the wall at his
approach, wild fear springing into her eyes, but he merely took the
laden tray from her trembling hands and placed it upon a bench. Then
raising the flagon to his lips, he drank a full half of its contents
before withdrawing it. A deep sigh of satisfaction followed, and he
said, somewhat shamefacedly:

"Forgive my hurried greed, maiden, but the thirst of the desert seems
to be in my throat, and the good wine reminds me that I am a German."

"It was brought for your use," replied the girl, demurely, "and I am
gratified that it meets your commendation, my Lord."