Me-ess Jocelyn, we will do a little of ze Wallenstein, by the immortal Schiller.

Hold up the head, and leave off striking the table with your elbows.' Jill would give a droll imitation of Fraeulein, and end with a groan.
'What does she know-about Schiller?
She cannot even comprehend him.

She is dense,--utterly dense and stupid; but because she knows her own language and has a correct deportment she is fit to teach me.' And Jill ground her little white teeth in impotent wrath.

Jill always appeared to me like an infant Pegasus in harness; she wanted to soar,--to make use of her wings,--and they kept her down.

She was not naturally gay, like Sara, though her health was good, and she was as powerful as a young Amazon.
Her nature was more sombre and took colour from her surroundings.
She was like a child in the sunshine; plenty of life and movement distracted her from interior broodings and made her joyous; when she was riding with the young ladies from Miss Dugald's, she would be as merry as the others.
But her dreary schoolroom and Fraeulein's society chafed her nervous sensibilities dangerously; there were only a few brown sparrows, or a stray cat intent on game, to be seen from her window.