And, as I watched, she began to sing softly to herself, and, putting up her hand, drew the comb from her hair so that it fell down, rippling about her neck and shoulders. And, singing softly thus, she shook her hair about her, so that I saw it curled far below her waist; stooped her head, and, parting it upon her neck, drew it over either shoulder, whence it flowed far down over her bosom in two glorious waves, for the moon, peeping through the rift in the leaves above, sent down her beams to wake small fires in it, that came and went, and winked with her breathing. "Charmian, you have glorious hair!" said I, speaking on the impulse—a thing I rarely do. But Charmian only combed her tresses, and went on singing to herself. "Charmian," said I again, "what did you mean when you called me a—creature?" Charmian went on singing. "You called me a 'pedant' once before; to be told that I am superior, also, is most disquieting. I fear my manner must be very unfortunate to afford you such an opinion of me." Charmian went on singing. "Naturally I am much perturbed, and doubly anxious to know what you wish me to understand by the epithet 'creature'?" Charmian went on singing. Wherefore, seeing she did not intend to answer me, I presently re-entered the cottage. Now it is ever my custom, when at all troubled or put out in any way, to seek consolation in my books, hence, I now took up my Homer, and, trimming the candles, sat down at the table. In a little while Charmian came in, still humming the air of her song, and not troubling even to glance in my direction. Some days before, at her request, I had brought her linen and lace and ribands from Cranbrook, and these she now took out, together with needle and cotton, and, sitting down at the opposite side of the table, began to sew. She was still humming, and this of itself distracted my mind from the lines before me; moreover, my eye was fascinated by the gleam of her flying needle, and I began to debate within myself what she was making. It (whatever it might be) was ruffled, and edged with lace, and caught here and there with little bows of blue riband, and, from these, and divers other evidences, I had concluded it to be a garment of some sort, and was casting about in my mind to account for these bows of riband, when, glancing up suddenly, she caught my eye; whereupon, for no reason in the world, I felt suddenly guilty, to hide which I began to search through my pockets for my pipe. "On the mantelshelf!" said she. "What is?" "Your pipe!" "Thank you!" said I, and reached it down. "What are you reading?" she inquired; "is it of Helen or Aspasia or Phryne?" "Neither—it is the parting of Hector and Andromache," I answered. "Is it very interesting?" "Yes." "Then why do your eyes wander so often from the page?"