And after a while Monsieur the Count came home, and carried away the Countess to live in Paris, and so--and--so--that was all! "But not all!" cried the child, springing from her seat, and raising her head, which had drooped for a moment.

"Not all! for I have the music, see, Abiroc! All days of my life I can make music, make happy, make joy of myself and ozerbodies.

When I take her; Madame, so, in my hand, I can do what I will, no?
People have glad thinks, sorry thinks; what Marie tells them to have, that have they.

_Ah! la tonne aventure, oh gai_!" and she would throw her head back and begin to play, and play till the chairs almost danced on their four legs.
De Arthenay never heard the fiddle.

Abby managed it somehow, she hardly knew how or why.