them, shouted to him their salutations from a distance, and waved their caps and handkerchiefs in sign of recognition.
At one river side village they finally moored the skiff, came in a body to meet him, invited him to their village, and threatened to bar his further progress unless he stepped out among them and allowed them to dance at least one round with “that bonny lass of his.”
Francis and Malka were agreeable, stepped out on to the beach and proceeded to where the band was playing, accompanied by the young men of the village. As soon as Francis made his appearance, the musicians greeted him with a flourish of trumpets, the rest of the company turned and bowed to him and danced with Malka, and unusual tokens of respect were bestowed on both. Then the music accompanied them to their shallop, and the boys sang a merry roundelay. And as they floated along, Francis lighted various coloured lanterns in the boat so that it looked like a bed of roses, flashing out into the blue mysterious depths of evening. And amid the roses dallied Francis and Malka, crowned with smiles. Above them bent the boundless star-wrought heaven, and before them in smiling eddies flowed the clear and marbled surface of the Moldau.
Francis who rowed, because they floated with the stream, had no need to stir an oar; the water itself carried them along, he and Malka might hold
