In the midst the Basin of Neptune, glittering and shining, and with its white statues, seemed to inspire him with a happy suggestion, and he trolled to himself a ballad with a nonsensical chorus, popular in his native land—
"Behind the manor lies the mere,
En roulant, ma boulë;
Three fair ducks skim its water clear.
En roulant, ma boulë roulant.
En roulant, ma boulë.
Three fair ducks skim its waters clear,
The King's son hunteth far and near.
The King's son draweth near the lake,
He bears his gun of magic make.
With magic gun of silver bright
He sights the Black but kills the White.
He sights the Black but kills the White;
Ah, cruel Prince, my heart you smite."
A rap on the door interrupted him. Dominique put his head in, announcing—
"A woman, sir."
"A woman? Young and beautiful?"
"No, sir; old."
"On what errand?"
"She insists it is business."
"Let her come in."
A figure entered dressed in a faded black shawl, a red dress, and a blue linen apron, and her face shadowed in a hood. She kept back out of the window-light, and he thought she was in great distress.