"Liess ihm bringen recht zu Peterwardein."
A moment of silence followed. Indeed, none of the singers had any breath left.
"'And silence like a poultice falls,
To heal the blows of sound!'"
quoted Mr. Merryweather. "Hark! what is that?"
Again the sound of singing was heard. This time it came from the direction of the tents. Girl's voices, thrilling clear and sweet on the stillness. The air was even more familiar than that of "Prinz Eugen," one of the sweetest airs that ever echoed to moonlight and the night:
"Ich weiss nicht was soll es bedeuten,
Dass ich so traurig bin;"—
The girls came singing out into the moonlight, hand in hand. They were in bathing-dress; their long hair floated over their shoulders; their white arms shone in the white light. Instead of coming back to the float, they plunged into the water, and swam, still singing, to a rock that reared a great rounded back from the water. Up on this rock they climbed, and sat them down, shaking off the water in diamond spray; and still their voices rang out, clear and thrilling on the quiet air:
"Die schönste Jungfrau sitzet
Dort oben wunderbar;
Ihr goldnes Geschmeide blitzet,
Sie kämmt ihr goldenes Haar."
"Gee!" muttered Gerald to himself.
"Pretty!" said Mr. Merryweather, taking his pipe from between his teeth. "Miranda, I don't know that I ever saw anything much prettier than that."