And then I would copy Bewick's wood-cuts for her, as she sat on the arm
of my chair and patiently watched; and she would say: "La fee
Tarapatapoum trouve que tu dessines dans la perfection!" and treasure up
these little masterpieces--"pour l'album de la fee Tarapatapoum!"
[Illustration]
There was one drawing she prized above all others--a steel engraving
in a volume of Byron, which represented two beautiful beings of either
sex, walking hand in hand through a dark cavern. The man was in sailor's
garb; the lady, who went barefoot and lightly clad, held a torch; and
underneath was written--
_"And Neuha led her Torquil by the hand,
And waved along the vaults her flaming brand."_
I spent hours in copying it for her, and she preferred the copy to the
original, and would have it that the two figures were excellent
portraits of her Prince and Fairy.
Sometimes during these readings and sketchings under the apple-tree on
the lawn, the sleeping Medor (a huge nondescript sort of dog, built up
of every breed in France, with the virtues of all and the vices of none)
would wag his three inches of tail, and utter soft whimperings of
welcome in his dream; and she would say--
"C'est le Prince Charmant qui lui dit; 'Medor donne la patte!'"
Or our old tomcat would rise from his slumbers with his tail up, and rub
an imaginary skirt; and it was--
"Regarde Mistigris! La fee Tarapatapoum est en train de lui frotter les
oreilles!'"
We mostly spoke French, in spite of strict injunctions to the contrary
from our fathers and mothers, who were much concerned lest we should
forget our English altogether.
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