Unrewarded for her minstrelsy by a single look from the Swiss, Le
Rossignol quit playing, and made a fist of the curved instrument to
shake at him, and let herself down the back of the settle. She sat on
the mandolin box in shadow, vaguely sulking, until Madame La Tour, fresh
from her swift attiring, stood at the top of the stairway. That instant
the half-hid mandolin burst into quavering melodies.

"Thou art back again, Nightingale?" called the lady, descending.

"Yes, Madame Marie."

"Madame!" exclaimed Klussman, and as his voice escaped repression it
rang through the hall. He advanced, but his lady lifted her finger to
hold him back.

"Presently, Klussman. The first matter in hand is to rebuke this
runaway."

Marie's firm and polished chin, the contour of her glowing mouth, and
the kindling beauty of her eyes were forever fresh delights to Le
Rossignol. The dwarf watched the shapely and majestic woman moving down
the hall.

"Madame," besought Zélie, looking anxiously around the end of the
settle. But she also was obliged to wait. Marie extended a hand to the
claws of Le Rossignol, who touched it with her beak.

"Thou hast very greatly displeased me."