Marcelline smiled what Jeanne called her funny smile.

“You would find it very difficult to do that, I think, my little Monsieur,” she said.  “However, you did not miss much last night.  The clouds came over so that the moon had no chance.  Perhaps it will be clearer to-night.”

With this hope Hugh had to be satisfied, and to satisfy also his little cousin, who was at first quite disappointed that he had nothing wonderful to tell her.

“To-night,” she said, “I shall stay awake all night, and if the moonlight is very nice and bright I shall come and wake you, you sleepy Cheri.  I do so want to go up those steps and into the castle where the peacocks are standing at the door.”

“So do I,” said Hugh, rather mortified; “but if one goes to sleep, whose fault is it?  I am sure you will go to sleep too, if you try to keep awake.  There’s nothing makes people go to sleep so fast as trying to keep awake.”

“Well, don’t try then,” said Jeanne, “and see what comes then.”

And when night came, Hugh, partly perhaps because he was particularly sleepy—­the day had been so much finer that the children had had some splendid runs up and down the long terrace walk in the garden, and the unusual exercise had made both of them very ready for bed when the time came—­took Jeanne’s advice, tucked himself up snugly and went off to sleep without thinking of the moonlight, or the peacocks, or Dudu, or anything.  He slept so soundly, that when he awoke he thought it was morning, and brighter morning than had hitherto greeted him since he came to Jeanne’s home.

“Dear me!” he said to himself, rubbing his eyes, “it must be very late; it looks just as if summer had come,” for the whole room was flooded with light—­such beautiful light—­bright and clear, and yet soft.  No wonder that Hugh rubbed his eyes in bewilderment—­it was not till he sat up in bed and looked well about him, quite awake now, that he saw that after all it was moonlight, not sunshine, which was illumining the old tapestry room and everything which it contained in this wonderful way.

“Oh, how pretty it is!” thought Hugh.  “No wonder Marcelline told us that we should see the tapestry in the moonlight.  I never could have thought it would have looked so pretty.  Why, even the peacocks’ tails seem to have got all sorts of new colours.”

He leant forward to examine them better.  They were standing—­just as usual—­one on each side of the flight of steps leading up to the castle.  But as Hugh gazed at them it certainly seemed to him—­could it be his fancy only?—­no, it must be true—­that their long tails grew longer and swept the ground more majestically—­then that suddenly—­fluff! a sort of little wind seemed to rustle for an instant, and fluff! again, the two peacocks had spread their tails, and now stood with them proudly reared fan-like, at their backs, just like the real living birds that Hugh had often