at me I believe that even then I should have won my fight. But suddenly, involuntarily, she gave me one brief glance—a glance of question, hurriedly turned aside; a blush that the question had overcome spread over her cheek, and she caught her breath.
Ah, if you had seen her! I forgot the king in Zenda. I forgot the king in Strelsau. She was a princess—and I an impostor. Do you think I remembered that? I threw myself on my knee and seized her hands in mine. I said nothing. Why should I? The soft sounds of the night set my wooing to a wordless melody as I pressed my kisses on her lips.
She pushed me from her, crying suddenly:
"Ah! is it true? or is it only because you must?"
"It's true!" I said in low, smothered tones—"true that I love you more than life—or truth—or honor!"
She set no meaning to my words, treating them as one of love's sweet extravagances. She came close to me, and whispered:
