"I know it, sir, I know that it does not concern you; but I must tell you that the pretty Floriza, the belle of the village, was in love with my son. There was not a lovelier maiden in all Wallachia. Such black eyes, such locks reaching down to her feet, such rosy cheeks, such a slim waist were not to be found anywhere else. And then she was so diligent, and she loved my son so dearly! In her chest she had sixteen embroidered chemises which she herself had woven and spun, and round her neck she wore a string of two hundred silver and twenty gold pieces. Sange Moarte never so much as looked at the girl. Vainly did Floriza make him posies, he would not put them in his hat; vainly did she give him kerchiefs, he would not wear them in his breast. Whenever he passed by, the girl would sing such beautiful songs as she sat by the hearth; but Sange Moarte for all that did not linger at her threshold, and yet she loved him so dearly. Often she said to him, when they met together in the lane--'Thou dost never come to see me; perchance thou wouldst not even look at me if I were dead?' Sange Moarte replied--'Then indeed I would look at thee.'--'Then I will soon die,' said the maiden sorrowfully. 'And then will I also visit thee,' said Sange Moarte, and went his way. Does all this weary you, good sir? I shall soon have done. Pretty Floriza lies dead. Her heart broke for grief. There she lies on her bier; the funereal _armindenu_[35] stands in front of the house. When Sange Moarte sees it he will know that Floriza is dead, and will come forth from the woods to look upon his dead sweetheart, as he promised her, for he always keeps his word. Then you can speak with him." [Footnote 35: _Armindenu._ A green branch placed in front of houses on the 1st of May and at funerals. Compare Latin _Alimentale_.] "Very well, old lady," said Clement, who had suddenly become serious, and was almost angry to find something very like poetry among rude peasants, who had certainly never read Horace's _Ars Poetica_. "You must watch for the lad's return, and let me know." "'Twere better you went yourself, sir," said the old woman, "for I scarcely think he will answer a single question put to him by any one else." "Be it so! Lead me thither!" cried the Patrol-officer; and the whole assembly proceeded towards the mortuary, which stood at the extreme end of the village. This end of Marisel is so far distant from the church, that night had fallen before the crowd had reached it. The moon came from behind the mountains. Round about the house stood pine trees, through the sombre foliage of which the evening star shimmered faintly. In the distance sounded the melancholy notes of some pastoral flute. In front of the little white house the hired mourner was sobbing loudly. The wind agitated the crape-hung branches of the _armindenu_. Inside the house lay the corpse of the beautiful young maiden awaiting her truant lover. The moonbeams fell upon her pale countenance.