Poor Nymphalin was a little frightened; but presently soft music was heard floating along, something like the sound we suddenly hear of a still night when a light breeze steals through rushes, or wakes a ripple in some shallow brook dancing over pebbles.

And lo, from the aperture of the earth came forth a fay, superbly dressed, and of a noble presence.
The queen started back, Pipalee rubbed her eyes, Trip looked over Pipalee's shoulder, and Nip, pinching her arm, cried out amazed, "By the last new star, that is Prince von Fayzenheim!" Poor Nymphalin gazed again, and her little heart beat under her bee's-wing bodice as if it would break.

The prince had a melancholy air, and he sat apart from the banquet, gazing abstractedly on the Rhine.
"Ah!" whispered Nymphalin to herself, "does he think of me ?" Presently the prince drew forth a little flute hollowed from a small reed, and began to play a mournful air.

Nymphalin listened with delight; it was one he had learned in her dominions.
When the air was over, the prince rose, and approaching the banqueters, despatched them on different errands; one to visit the dwarf of the Drachenfels, another to look after the grave of Musaeus, and a whole detachment to puzzle the students of Heidelberg.

A few launched themselves upon willow leaves on the Rhine to cruise about in the starlight, and an other band set out a hunting after the gray-legged moth.