Ferdinand Augustus, left to himself, went down into the garden. It was a wonderful summer’s evening, made indeed (if I may steal a phrase from Hilary) of perfumed velvet. The sun had set an hour since, but the western sky was still splendid, like a dark banner, with sombre reds and purples; and in the east hung the full moon, so brilliant, so apposite, as to seem somehow almost like a piece of premeditated decoration. The waters of the fountains flashed silverly in its light; glossy leaves gave back dim reflections; here and there, embowered among the trees, white statues gleamed ghost-like. Away in the park somewhere, innumerable frogs were croaking, croaking; subdued by distance, the sound gained a quality that was plaintive and unearthly. The long façade of the palace lay obscure in shadow; only at the far end, in the Queen’s apartments, were the windows alight. But, quite close at hand, the moon caught a corner of the terrace; and here, presently, Ferdinand Augustus became aware of a human figure. A woman was standing alone by the balustrade, gazing out into the wondrous night. Ferdinand Augustus’s heart began to pound; and it was a full minute before he could command himself sufficiently to move or speak. At last, however, he approached her. “Good evening,” he said, looking up from the pathway. She glanced down at him, leaning upon the balustrade. “Oh, how do you do?” She smiled her surprise. She was in evening dress, a white robe embroidered with pearls, and she wore a tiara of pearls in her hair. She had a light cloak thrown over her shoulders, a little cape trimmed with swan’s-down. “Heavens!” thought Ferdinand Augustus. “How magnificent she is!” “It’s a hundred years since I have seen you,” he said. “Oh, is it so long as that? I should have imagined it was something like a fortnight. Time passes quickly.” “That is a question of psychology. But now at last I find you when I least expect you.” “I have slipped out for a moment,” she explained, “to enjoy this beautiful prospect. One has no such view from the Queen’s end of the terrace. One cannot see the moon.” “I cannot see the moon from where I am standing,” said he. “No, because you have turned your back upon it,” said she. “I have chosen between two visions. If you were to authorise me to join you, aloft there, I could see both.” “I have no power to authorise you,” she laughed, “the terrace is not my property. But if you choose to take the risks——” “Oh,” he cried, “you are good, you are kind.” And in an instant he had joined her on the terrace, and his heart was fluttering wildly with its sense of her nearness to him. He could not speak. “Well, now you can see the moon. Is it all your fancy painted?” she asked, with her whimsical smile. Her face was exquisitely pale in the moonlight, her eyes glowed. Her voice was very soft. His heart was fluttering wildly, poignantly. “Oh,” he began, but broke off. His breath trembled. “I cannot speak,” he said.