A young girl, coming down one of the winding paths, paused a moment in the open space to listen. The hand that held her trailing, shimmering skirts away from the gravel was strong and supple, and the face thrown back to the moonlight wore a tense, earnest look; but the dark eyes in their curving lids were like a child's eyes. They seemed to laugh subtly. It may have been that the moonlight shifted across them.
A young man, standing in the shadow of the trees, smiled to himself as he watched her. He stepped from beneath the trees and crossed the open space between them.
The girl watched him come without surprise.
"It is a beautiful night, Herr Schubert," she said quietly as he stood beside her.
"A wonderful night, my lady," he answered softly.
She looked down at him.
"Why are you not in the castle, playing?" she demanded archly.
"The night called me," he said.
She half turned away.
He started forward.