TWILIGHT. LAND

So the two did without second bidding, and such food
and drink the serving-man had never tasted in his life
before. And while they were feasting together the young
man told them his story, and why it was he was so sad.
A year before he had married a young lady, the most
beautiful in all that kingdom, and had friends and com-
rades and all things that a man could desire in the world.
But suddenly everything went wrong; his wife and he
fell out and quarrelled until there was no living together,
and she had to go back to her old home. Then his com-
panions deserted him, and now he lived all alone.

“Yours is a hard case,” said the travelling companion,
“but it is not past curing.” Thereupon he drew out his
pipe and began to play, and it was such a tune as no
man ever listened to before. He played and he played,
and, after a while, one after another of those who listened
to him began to get drowsy. First they winked, then
they shut their eyes, and then they nodded until all were
as dumb as logs, and as sound asleep as though they
would never waken again. Only the servant and the
piper stayed awake, for the music did not make them
drowsy as it did the rest. Then, when all but they two
were tight and fast asleep, the travelling companion
arose, tucked away his pipe, and, stepping up to the
young man, took from off his finger a splendid ruby ring,
as red as blood and as bright as fire, and popped the
same into his pocket. And all the while the serving-man
stood gaping like a fish to see what his comrade was
about. “Come,” said the travelling companion, “it is
time we were going ;” and off they went, shutting the door
behind them.

As for the serving-man, though he remembered his

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