therein contained.

She flatly refused. A self-willed, obstinate fairy, suffering from
swelled head. And then there was that personal note. Merely that
he should marry the Princess Berchta! She would see King Heremon,
and Anniamus, in his silly old wizard's robe, and the Fays of
Brittany, and all the rest of them--! A really nice White Lady may
not have cared to finish the sentence, even to herself. One
imagines the flash of the fairy eye, the stamp of the fairy foot.
What could they do to her, any of them, with all their clacking of
tongues and their wagging of heads? She, an immortal fairy! She
would change Prince Gerbot back at a time of her own choosing. Let
them attend to their own tricks and leave her to mind hers. One
pictures long walks and talks between the distracted Harbundia and
her refractory favourite--appeals to reason, to sentiment: "For my
sake." "Don't you see?" "After all, dear, and even if he did."

It seems to have ended by Harbundia losing all patience. One thing
there was she could do that Malvina seems either not to have known
of or not to have anticipated. A solemn meeting of the White Ladies
was convened for the night of the midsummer moon. The place of
meeting is described by the ancient chroniclers with more than their
usual exactitude. It was on the land that the magician Kalyb had,
ages ago, raised up above all Brittany to form the grave of King
Taramis. The "Sea of the Seven Islands" lay to the north. One
guesses it to be the ridge formed by the Arree Mountains. "The Lady
of the Fountain" appears to have been present, suggesting the deep
green pool from which the river D'Argent takes its source. Roughly
speaking, one would place it halfway between the modern towns of
Morlaix and Callac. Pedestrians, even of the present day, speak of