Always, on entering any cottage, they would glance at the door,
to see if, perchance, there might be a sprig of dill over it. And if
there was not, they were reminded to put away any envious feeling they
might have toward the inmates out of their hearts.
[Illustration: DAME ELIZABETH STARED WITH ASTONISHMENT.]
As for the count, he had not been so much alarmed as the others, since
he had been to the wars and was braver. Moreover, he felt that his
dignity as a noble had been insulted. So he at once dismounted and
fastened his horse to the gate, and strode up to the door with his
sword clanking and the plumes on his hat nodding.
"What," he begun; then he stopped short. He had recognized his
daughter in Dame Clementina. She recognized him at the same moment.
"O, my dear daughter!" said he. "O, my dear father!" said she.
"And this is my little grandchild?" said the count; and he took Nan
upon his knee, and covered her with caresses.
Then the story of the dill and the verse was told. "Yes," said the
count, "I truly was envious of you, Clementina, when I saw Nan."
After a little, he looked at his daughter sorrowfully. "I should
dearly love to take you up to the castle with me, Clementina," said
he, "and let you live there always, and make you and the little child
my heirs. But how can I? You are disinherited, you know.
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