“Doesn’t she trust you?” He frowned.

“She doesn’t trust the things in the forest,” she corrected him. “I don’t mind.”

“Hmm. Well, there are gypsies in the forest, and tramps. She’s probably wise.” He nodded sagely. She smiled.

“You haven’t told me your name,” she pointed out. “I’m Giselle.”

“And I am Johann Schmidt,” he replied, and swept off his hat in a flourishing bow. “At your service. Shall I tell you all about myself?”

She felt herself coloring all over again. “Oh,” she replied. “Please!”

Johann stayed until moonrise, then bowed again and took his leave, promising to come back on the morrow. Giselle could not remember ever having been so excited at the prospect of something, not even when learning new magic. After all, her magic had been a part of her for as long as she could remember, but handsome young men were things she had only read of in books, and a handsome young man standing beneath her window for hours just to talk to her was something entirely new.

The men of the Bruderschaft that had visited Mother had not had much time for her; she understood that, of course, to come all this way to this remote part of the Black Forest, deep in the mountains, they must have had very urgent business indeed. They certainly had no time to spare for idle chat. To have another person besides Mother interested enough in her to regale her with tales was wonderful.

To have that person be a very handsome young man was intoxicating.

After Johann was gone, she spent a long time just dreamily staring up at the night sky, for once not watching for the shyer and more elusive sylphs and other Air Elementals that only came out at night.

In the morning there was no sign of Johann Schmidt, not from any of the four tower windows, and with a feeling of disappointment, she went about her usual chores. Of her particular sylph friends only Linnet turned up, and she seemed listless, and soon left.

The milk was set out in pans to rise; she skimmed off the cream and put the separated milk and cream in the “special” pantry where things were not allowed to spoil. Giselle made herself something to eat and had her breakfast up in her room with a glass of milk she had set aside. There still was no sign of Johann.

As listless as Linnet had been, Giselle turned over pages in the history books that Mother had left her to study. Truth to tell, she didn’t think she was a very good scholar at the best of times, and right now, with vague discontent standing between her and the pages, she wasn’t making much headway with them.

So she set the books aside and turned to another tedious chore, which at least had the virtue of requiring attention without concentration.

She unwound her braids from her head, unbraided them, and began combing out her hair.