"What must have sunken there?" Wanda asked, eagerly.
"Have you never heard about Vineta? It is one of our sea-shore traditions. I thought everybody knew it."
"I do not; tell me all about it."
"I am a poor story-teller. Ask any old sailor along the coast to relate it to you; he can do it far better than I."
"But I will hear it from your lips; so tell it."
Waldemar's brow grew dark. The young lady was too imperious.
"You will!" he returned, rather sharply.
"Yes, I will," she repeated, with the same obstinacy as before. She evidently knew her power, and meant to use it.
The frown on the young man's brow deepened. He felt like rebelling against the spell that fettered him, but when he met the dark eyes whose glance seemed to change from command to entreaty, his defiance vanished, his brow cleared, and he smiled.
"Well, then, I must tell the story in my own abrupt, prosaic way," he said, emphasizing the last adjective. "According to the legend, Vineta was an old, fortified city by the sea, the metropolis of a people who ruled land and water far and near, who surpassed all the world in pomp and grandeur, and into whose lap the wealth and treasure of all lands were poured. But the inhabitants of Vineta became so haughty, so overbearing, and so wicked, that their pride and sin called down the vengeance of Heaven upon their city, and it was swallowed up by the waves. Our sailors swear that yonder, where the shore recedes, the great city rests to-day in all its olden splendor. They declare that they frequently catch glimpses of its towers and domes glistening fathoms deep below the waters; that occasionally the city in its olden magnificence rises from the sea, and that certain favored ones are allowed to behold the enchanting sight. Indeed, there are mirages enough along this coast, and we have here in the North a sort of fata morgana whose cause I cannot explain, although my tutor has told me all about it--"