Then yesterday I saw my lady but for a few short moments, and that surrounded by Ziné and half a dozen more girls for a last inspection of her wedding dress. This morning I had filled the usual puppet part that is allotted to the bridegroom in countries like Sakaeland, where women rather more than hold their own. Alec and Andros--who had insisted on being one of my supporters--took charge of me, dressed me, all but shaved and washed me, never let me out of their sight for an instant, while Andros filled every otherwise unoccupied moment in coaching me as to the part I had to play. Finally, they had almost lifted me into the saddle when with John, Philos, and a score more friends, and a hundred of my Astara men behind us, we rode down the broad garlanded streets to the dark little church opposite to Kyrlos’s palace, and I was marched up to the cushions in front of the rich altar-veils that concealed the sanctuary. The air was heavy with incense, and the little high windows threw but a faint light into the half-gloom, where the tapers burned before the heavily framed old pictures, and the richly decorated little shrines, where, half-seen, were metal-framed representations of gospel scenes and of saints, like Russian ikons. The church was thronged with folk in bravery of silk and brocade, heavily embroidered tunics and fur-tipped cloaks, lightened by the rich sheen of satin, the cold glitter of silver and warm sparkle of gold from hair ornament and bangle, from belt-buckle and sword-hilt. When I had been shepherded through the frankly staring crowd to stand in my place, supported by Andros and Alec on either side, my sole consolation was that presently Aryenis would be kneeling beside me on the richly worked cushion a yard away on the tesselated floor. I sought refuge from the hum and buzz of whispered conversation behind me in concentrating on that cushion with its curious gold thread-work, until I think I knew the pattern by heart. Presently--ages it seemed to be--there was the clatter of hoofs outside, sound of trumpets, and thereafter I felt less self-conscious, for I knew that all the crowd behind me would have eyes but for two things--the men for Aryenis, and the women for her clothes. Andros and Alec closed in upon me. Then footsteps behind, the rustle of talk died away for an instant, and from the corner of my eye I caught the first glimpse of my lady in flowing drapery of silk, filmy veil of flower-wreathed white over the thick coils of her red-gold hair, glint of gold from ring and bracelet, as on Kyrlos’s arm she took her place by the cushion on my left, long-lashed hazel eyes fixed resolutely on the sanctuary curtains in front, lips of warm coral against the unwonted pallor of her face.