ed of it? By dint of weighing the matter in his mind, he thought at last of a good contrivance. His lute, which had been confined to its case since Frank had had other occupations, might serve him as an interpreter. He took it out, tuned it, and began playing in the amoroso mood.
Frank was no very skilful musician: but is not love the best of all teachers? Frank soon became an accomplished virtuoso, and could express with equal abilities, joy, sadness, uncertainty, hope, despair, in short, the various changes which the tender passion will give rise to. When Meta appeared at the window, the harmonious lute expressed joy and happiness; and if she continued there, the sounds became so soft, so tenderly affectionate, so expressive, that they spoke a declaration in due form; they penetrated to the very soul of the youthful maid, and caused her to shed tears. When she withdrew, the accents of the instrument were sorrowful: if she delayed reappearing, they spoke impatience; when the matron approached, the lute was expressive of rage; in fine, never had any instrument spoken with more precision, and in a manner so very intelligible, that Meta was soon sensible of what she was given to understand: she, in her turn, racked her little brains to find out the means of answering the lute without speaking; and she succeeded.
“Dear mother,” said she one day to her, “although I am so fond of flowers I never see any, as we never go out walking; allow me, then, to have a few pots on our window.” Dame Brigite, who did not foresee that her compliance could be attended with danger, granted the request: she, no doubt, heard the lute also, but not in a like manner to what Meta did; she only fancied that some musician had taken Frank’s lodgings, and that he thought of nothing but of improving in his profession; she praised his talent, her daughter likewise bestowed some encomiums, but such only as could not create suspicion. “I like this musician far better than his lazy, idle, predecessor,” would Dame Brigite say; “he is industrious in his way: the other would sit and stare all day long at his window, without attempting any kind of occupation; this one, at least, cultivates a talent which may be productive of some benefit: besides, his music is agreeable to hear whilst we are at work.”
Meta returned no answer, because she doubted not but the lazy body and the lute player were but one; she continued spinning, as her mother spoke, and only left off her work to cultivate her flowers. Frank was pleased when he saw in his glass a rose and a myrtle tree. Meta watered, tied, placed them close to each other, or removed them to a distance, according to the modulations of the lute. When she left the window only for a few moments, she placed them at a short distance; if she was to be absent for some hours, the pots then occupied both extremities of the board; on her return, they were drawn quite close to one another: the lute most faithfully accompanied the motions of the vases; and before it was long, Meta was convinced that her neighbour could see her and her vases, and that he understood their meaning the same as she comprehended the language of the lute.
Frank, when at dinner with his landlady, had been making enquiries about their opposite neighbours, and from her, besides what he already knew, was informed that Meta longed for a new gown, which her mother had refused giving her, because there was a scarcity of hemp that year, and that on account of the high price of the article she had been obliged to leave off trade.
Frank instantly took another of his mother’s rings, sold it to a jeweller, and with the whole of the money bought a good lot of hemp. Next, by means of flattering, and of offering a small present to the woman from whom he had made the purchase, he prevailed on her to go and offer the hemp for sale to Dame Brigite, at a reduced price. Brigite was delighted at her bargain, paid what she was asked, sold the hemp for double what it had cost her, and on the Sunday following Frank had the pleasure of seeing in his glass his fair Meta, ready to go to church, decked in a pretty new gown, that fitted her nicely, and made her look still handsomer; and as Brigite never spun on Sundays, she accompanied her daughter.
The moment Frank imagined they were beyond the house, he ventured to his win-
