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 distance, and waved their caps and handkerchiefs in sign of recognition.

At one river-side village they finally moored the skiff. The villagers came in a body to invite him to their village, and threatened to bar his further progress unless he stepped out among them and allowed them to dance at least one round with “that bonny lass of his”.

Francis and Malka were agreeable, stepped out on to the beach and proceeded to where the band was playing, accompanied by the young men of the village. As soon as Francis made his appearance, the musicians greeted him with a flourish of trumpets, the rest of the company turned and bowed to him and danced with Malka, and unusual tokens of respect were bestowed on both. Then the music accompanied them to their shallop, and the boys sang a merry roundelay. And as they floated along, Francis lighted various coloured lanterns in the boat so that it looked like a bed of roses, flashing out into the blue mysterious depths of evening. And amid the roses dallied Francis and Malka, crowned with smiles. Above them bent the boundless star-wrought heaven, and before them in smiling eddies flowed the clear and marbled surface of the Moldau. Francis who rowed, because they floated with the stream, had no need to stir an oar; the water itself carried them along, he and Malka might hold each other’s hands, and might look at one another and at one another’s smiles.

Malka thought that never in all her life had she experienced anything so delightful as that lovely evening on the water; and in whispers she declared what she could not venture to express aloud that she would like to linger on the water as long as the moon was shining in the heavens. And the moon shone so to speak in duplicate; it was visible high above them, and it was reflected in the Moldau, and on the water its lustre lay like molten silver. And where Francis dipped his oar, the lustre was splintered into a thousand silvery flakes and fell in sparks and silvery drops, and all the while the ripples pattered on the shore in half murmured music that yet was touchingly distinct.

If the river-banks had many a charm for Malka by daylight, they had many more on such an evening as this. The margin of the river was half lost in twilight, from which emerged houses, hillocks, and in general all objects bathed in glittering whiteness. The gaze could not penetrate that mysterious twilight, and yet the eye was loath to wander from it, as though within its depths lay all that ever drew the soul and spirit to itself.