“No. I think he would have just the same kind of mark as the princess, a small one big enough to see, but not too ugly--on his face, perhaps.” “Then I might be able to be a fairy prince, mightn’t I, since Forsyth says I shall have a mark across my face that every one will be able to see, all right?” “You might--if you found a fairy princess of the right kind and didn’t grow up too much.” She looked back into the fire and was silent again, the dancing firelight playing across the long curve of her neck and chasing little shadows over the rose of her cheeks, faintly flushed in the glow. “Do you know what Payindah and Firoz call you now, Aryenis?” I asked after a while. “No? What is it?” “‘Shahzadi,’ which in their language means ‘Princess.’ I think they must be observant folk.” “That is rather nice of them. I like that title. I feel like one sometimes when there are dragons about, and a fairy prince would be useful.” “Ever seen the fairy prince come along?” She looked back into the fire and pondered quite a long time. Then she said slowly: “I think I did once, though I’m not quite sure. Only he hadn’t got any purple marks, not even quite a little one, on his face.” “And there were dragons?” Aryenis shivered. “Lots!” “And did the prince kill them, all right?” “Yes, quite dead.” “And then he and the princess would live happily ever after? That’s the proper ending, isn’t it?” “It’s the proper ending--in a fairy story.” She got up slowly. “To-morrow you’re going to take me to see Uncle Paulos again on the way to Miletis. Father is coming later; he’s got things to do here, so he says that we are to ride on ahead, and I want to go to Uncle Paulos. It’s only a little way off the road.” “I should like to go there again very much. I like your Uncle Paulos. He might have been a fairy prince easily.” “No,” said Aryenis; “he plays another part.” “What’s that?” said I. “Fairy godfather generally. Now I’m going to see if father’s properly tied up. Don’t forget that we start early. Good-night, Harilek.” “Good-night--Shahzadi.” As I went to my room I wondered who Aryenis’s fairy prince, or the one who might be a fairy prince, was. I felt I should hate the sight of him pretty usefully when I did run into him. And the blighter had no marks, “not even a little one,” while I was marked with a very usefully puckered cheek. I found Forsyth in bed, smoking the last of his cigarettes. “No more tobacco after to-night. D----!” said he. “I wonder if there’s likely to be any wild tobacco growing in this country?” “May be, but I doubt it. We’ve got a little tea left, I think, if you’d like that.” “No, we haven’t. I gave the lot to Aryenis, who’s taken rather a fancy to the new drug. I think she’s saving it up for Christmas or something. Besides tea’s filth, though I have smoked it in a pipe upon occasions.”