'Who are you, then?'
'I am Maurice, the little herd-boy. I live with my grandmother, and work for her.'
'What, in keeping cows?'
'Yes; and look here!'
'O the delicious little cottage! It has eaves, and windows, and balconies, and a door, and little cows and sheep, and men and women, all in pretty white wood! You did not make it, Maurice?'
'Yes, truly, I did; I cut it out with my knife, all myself.'
'How clever you must be. And what shall you do with it?'
'I shall watch for a carriage with ladies winding up that long road; and then I shall stand and take off my hat, and hold out my cottage. Perhaps they will buy it, and then I shall have enough to get grandmother a warm gown for the winter. When I grow bigger I will be a guide, like my father.'
'A guide?'
'Yes, to lead travellers up to the mountain-tops. There is nowhere you English will not go. The harder a mountain is to climb, the more bent you are on going up. And oh, I shall love it too! There are the great glaciers, the broad streams of ice that fill up the furrows of the mountains, with the crevasses so blue and beautiful and cruel. It was in one of them my father was swallowed up.'
'Ah! then how can you love them?' said Lucy.
'Because they are so grand and so beautiful,' said Maurice. 'No other place has the like, and they make one's heart swell with wonder, and joy in the God who made them. And it is only the brave who dare to climb them!'
And Maurice's eyes sparkled, and Lucy looked at the clear, stern glory of the mountain points, and felt as if she understood him.
CHAPTER XII. THE COSSACK.
[Illustration: While he jerked out his arms and legs as if they were pulled by strings.
CAPER, caper; dance, dance. What a wonderful dance it was, just as if the little fellow had been made of cork, so high did he bound the moment he touched the ground; while he jerked out his arms and legs as if they were pulled by strings, like the Marionettes that had once performed in the front of the window. Only, his face was all fun and life, and he did look so proud and delighted to show what he could do; and it was all in clear, fresh, open air, the whole extent covered with short green grass, upon which were grazing herds of small lean horses, and flocks of sheep without tails, but with their wool puffed out behind into a sort of bustle or
'Do you live there?' she asked, by way of beginning the conversation.
'Yes; my father is the hetman of the Stantitza, and these are my holidays. I go to school at Tcherkask most part of the year.'
'Tcherkask! Oh, what a funny name!'
'And you would think it a funny town if you were there. It is built on a great bog by the side of the river Volga; all the houses stand on piles of timber, and in the spring the streets are full of water, and one has to sail about in boats.'
'Oh! that must be delicious.'
'I don't like it as much as coming home and riding. See!' and as he whistled, one of the horses came whinnying up, and put his nose over the boy's shoulder.
'Good fellow! But your horses are thin; they look little.'
'Little!' cried the young Cossack. 'Why, do you know what our little horses can do? There are not many armies in Europe that they have not ridden down, at one time or another. Why, the church at Tcherkask is hung all round with Colours we have taken from our enemies. There's the Swede-didn't Charles XII. get the worst of it when he came in his big boots after the Cossack?-ay, and the Turk, and the Austrian, and the German, and the French? Ah! doesn't my grandfather tell how he rode his good little horse all the way from the Volga to the Seine, and the good Czar Alexander himself gave him the medal with 'Not unto us, but unto Thy Name be the praise'? Our father the Czar does not think so little of us and our horses as you do, young lady.'
'I beg your pardon,' said Lucy; 'I did not know what your horses could do.'
'Oh, you did not! That is some excuse for you. I'll show you.'
And in one moment he was on the back of his little horse, leaning down on its neck, and galloping off over the green plain like the wind; but it seemed to Lucy as if she had only just watched him out of sight on one side before he was close to her on the other, having whirled round and cantered close up to her while she was looking the other way. 'Come up with me,' he said; and in one moment she had been swept up before him on the little horse's neck, and was flying so wildly over the Steppes that her breath and sense failed her, and she knew no more till she was safe by Mrs. Bunker's fireside again.
CHAPTER XIII. SPAIN.
'SUPPOSE and suppose I go to sleep again; what should I like to see next? A sunny place, I think, where there is sea to look at. Shall it be Spain, and shall it be among the poor people? Well, I think I should like to be where there is a little lady girl. I hope they are not all as lazy and conceited as the Chinese and the Turk.'
So Lucy awoke in a large cool room with a marble floor and heavy curtains, but with little furniture except one table, and a row of chairs ranged along the wall. It had two windows, one looking out into a garden,-such a garden!-orange-trees with shining leaves and green and golden fruit and white flowers, and jasmines, and great lilies standing round about a marble court, in the midst of which was a basin of red marble, where a fountain was playing, making a delicious splashing; and out beyond these sparkled in the sun the loveliest and most delicious of blue seas-the same blue sea, indeed, that Lucy had seen in her Italian visit.
That window was empty; but the other, which looked out into the street, had cushions laid on the sill, an open-work stone ledge beyond, and little looking-glasses on either side; and leaning over this sill there was seated a little maiden in a white frock, but with a black lace veil fastened by a rose into her jet-black hair, and the daintiest, prettiest-shaped little feet imaginable in white satin shoes, which could be plainly seen as she knelt on the window-seat.
'What are you looking at?' asked Lucy, coming to her side.
[Illustration: 'See now,' cried the Spaniard, 'stand there. Ah! have you no castanets?'
'I'm watching for the procession. Then I shall go to church with Mamma. Look! That way we shall see it come; these two mirrors reflect everything up and down the street.'
'Are you dressed for church?' asked Lucy. 'You have no hat on.'
'Where does your grace come from not to know that a mantilla is what is fit for church? Mamma is being dressed in her black silk and her black mantilla.'
'And your shoes?'
'I could not wear great, coarse, hard shoes,' said the little Doña Iñes; 'it would spoil my feet. Ah! I shall have time to show the Senorita what I can do. Can your grace dance?'
'I danced with Uncle Joe at our last Christmas party,' said Lucy, with great dignity.
'See now,' cried the Spaniard; 'stand there. Ah! have you no castanets?' and she quickly took out two very small ivory shells or bowls, each pair fastened together by a loop, through which she passed her thumb so that the little spoons hung on her palm, and she could snap them together with her fingers.
Then she began to dance round Lucy in the most graceful swimming way, now rising, now falling, and cracking her castanets together at intervals. Lucy tried to do the same, but her limbs seemed like a wooden doll's compared with the suppleness and ease of Iñes. She made sharp corners and angles, where the Spaniard floated so like a sea-bird that it was like seeing her fly or float rather than merely dance, till at last the very watching her rendered
