"We will not part like this," he answered, feigning, as every man should do, to be blind when another man is moved; "there are many things in your way, my friend; but I will not make the worst of them. You have my respect and liking, which I do not give to every one. But in spite of all I have gone through or perhaps by reason of it, I have some romance about me still. You say that you love my daughter, and I thoroughly believe it. But does she love you?" "I have no reason to think so yet. What right have I to hope for it? She is far above me in every way. But if you do not forbid me--why I could try--I could try my best, you know." It was almost more than he could do to look with becoming gravity at the sadly waning phase of hope depicted on my countenance. He smiled, because he could not help it. And I smiled, to keep time with him. "You are honest, at any rate," he said, "and that you have been from first to last. Of English modes of wooing, I know nothing; and they are not like ours. But this strikes me as an unusual thing; though perhaps all you ask is what you would call 'a fair field and no favour.' You shall have it, as far as I am concerned; though I will not pledge myself afterwards. But remember that in a month or so, we return to our native mountains." This was awful news to me; and I seemed to have no fair chance left. Moreover I felt very deep alarm concerning that Prince Hafer, Dariel's cousin, about whom I had heard so much, and of whom I had seen too much already. Was he the son of that terrible woman, Marva--Sûr Imar's sister--and that hateful man, and horrible plotter, Rakhan, Prince of the Ossets? I had longed to ask his Uncle Imar for more particulars, about him, and especially what he was doing here, but my courage had failed me on that point. Alas that he was no longer dumb; and if he had fallen 200 feet in his childhood, no wonder that he could jump 10 now; for Nature always strives towards a balance. And if he could not jump 10 feet in height (which perhaps is more than any man even of the mountains has achieved), it was plain enough that he would prove a very awkward customer, whenever my sense of the gross injustice inflicted by his presence should urge me to attempt by hand or foot his desirable removal. But one thing I might ask, as I thought, without showing any impertinence, or reviving painful memories. "Your sister, the Princess Marva, sir? I hope she continued to show good-will, and afforded you some comfort before you were banished from Daghestan. She herself remains there, I suppose?"