The count at once had the plot of ground inclosed with a high fence of stout planks, engaged a gardener, and had it transformed into a beautiful flower-garden.
Then, when the first spring blossoms began to open, he said to Marie, one balmy, sunshiny afternoon: "Come, we will take a promenade."
He conducted the veiled maiden through the park, along the freshly graveled path to the inclosed plot of ground.
"Here is your garden," he said, opening the gate. "Now you, too, own a plot of ground."
Count Vavel had expected to see the little maid clap her hands with delight, and hasten to pluck the flowers for a nosegay.
Instead, however, she clung to his arm and sighed heavily.
"Why do you sigh, Marie? Are you not pleased with your garden?"
"Yes; I think it beautiful."
"Then why do you sigh?"
"Because I cannot thank you as I wish."