made no attempt to dissuade him from it, but excused himself from
accompanying the party on the plea that he wanted to finish a sketch
he had recently begun. So that when the Eulalie got up her steam,
weighed anchor, and swept gracefully away towards the coast of the
adjacent islands, her owner was left, at his desire, to the
seclusion of a quiet nook on the shore of the Altenfjord, where he
succeeded in making a bold and vivid picture of the scene before
him. The colors of the sky had, however, defied his palette, and
after one or two futile attempts to transfer to his canvas a few of
the gorgeous tints that illumed the landscape, he gave up the task
in despair, and resigned himself to the dolce far niente of absolute
enjoyment. From his half pleasing, half melancholy reverie the voice
of the unknown maiden had startled him, and now,--now she had left
him to resume it if he chose,--left him, in chill displeasure, with
a cold yet brilliant flash of something like scorn in her wonderful
eyes.

Since her departure the scenery, in some unaccountable way, seemed
less attractive to him, the songs of the birds, who were all awake,
fell on inattentive ears; he was haunted by her face and voice, and
he was, moreover, a little out of humor with himself for having been
such a blunderer as to give her offense and thus leave an
unfavorable impression on her mind.

"I suppose I WAS rude," he considered after a while. "She seemed to
think so, at any rate. By Jove! what a crushing look she gave me! A
peasant? Not she! If she had said she was an empress I shouldn't
have been much surprised. But a mere common peasant, with that regal
figure and those white hands! I don't believe it. Perhaps our pilot,
Valdemar, knows who she is; I must ask him."