It seemed to me that this was the woman whose voice I had heard the night before on the sea-shore. I looked again towards the singer, but she had disappeared. A moment after she passed rapidly before me, singing another song and snapping her fingers. She went to the old woman and said something to her. The old woman seemed annoyed. The young girl burst into a laugh. Then, with a bound, she came close to me, suddenly stopped and looked at me fixedly, as though surprised to see me. Then turning away with an air of indifference, she walked quietly towards the shore. But her manoeuvres were not yet at an end. All the rest of the day I saw her at short intervals, always singing and dancing. Strange creature! There was nothing in her physiognomy to denote insanity. On the contrary, her eyes were intelligent and penetrating. They exercised on me a certain magnetic influence, and seemed to expect a question. But whenever I was on the point of speaking she took to flight with a sly smile on her lips. I had never seen such a woman before. She could scarcely be called beautiful; but I have my own ideas on the subject of beauty. There was a thoroughbred look about her, and with women as with horses, there is nothing like breed. It can be recognised chiefly in the walk and in the shape of the hands and feet. The nose is also an important feature. In Russia regular noses are more rare than little feet. My siren must have been about eighteen years of age. What charmed me in her was the extraordinary suppleness of her figure, the singular movements of her head, and her long, fair hair, hanging down in waves of gold on her neck, and her nose, which was perfectly formed. In her sidelong glance there was something dark and wild; as there was something fascinating in the pure lines of her nose. The light-hearted singer recalled to me the Mignon of Goethe, that fantastic creation of the German mind. Between these two personages there was indeed a striking resemblance. The same sudden transitions from restless agitation to perfect calm; the same enigmatic words and the same songs. Towards the evening I stopped my Undine at the door of the hut, and said to her: "Tell me, my pretty one, what you were doing to-day on the roof?" "I was seeing in what direction the wind blew." "How did that concern you?" "Whence blows the wind, thence comes happiness." "And your singing was to bring you good fortune?" "Where singing is heard, there is joy." "But what should you say if your singing caused unhappiness?" "If unhappiness arrives it must be borne. And from grief to joy the distance is not great." "Who taught you these songs?" "No one; I dream and I sing; those who understand me listen to me, and those who do not listen to me cannot understand me." "What is your name?" "Ask those who baptized me." "And who baptized you?" "I do not know." "Ah! you are very mysterious, but I know something about you."