city to sell in the market on the morrow. After that she would have
little to do save an hour or two at night in a tavern called the Black
Eagle, where she waited on patrons.

On the two went, the old man in tatters, the goose-girl in wooden shoes.
The man listened; she was singing brightly, and the voice was sweet and
strong and true.

"She is happy; that is some recompense. She is richer than I am." And
the peasant fell into a reverie.

Presently there was a clatter of horses, a jingle of bit and spur and
saber. The old man stepped to the side of the road and sat down on the
stone parapet. It would be wiser now to wait till the dust settled. Half
a dozen mounted officers trotted past. The peasant on the parapet
instantly recognized one of the men. He saluted with a humbleness which
lacked sincerity. It was the grand duke himself. There was General
Ducwitz, too, and some of his staff, and a smooth-faced, handsome young
man in civilian riding-clothes, who, though he rode like a cavalryman,
was obviously of foreign birth, an Englishman or an American. They were
laughing and chatting amiably, for the grand duke of Ehrenstein bothered
himself about formalities only at formal times. The outsider watched
them regretfully as they went by, and there was some envy in his heart,
too.

When the cavalcade reached the goose-girl, the peace of the scene
vanished forthwith. Confusion took up the scepter. The silly geese,
instead of remaining on the left of the road, in safety, straightway
determined that their haven of refuge was on the opposite side.
Gonk-gonk! Quack-quack! They scrambled, they blundered, they flew. Some