The girl was beautiful, yes, but it was far more than that. There was a depth to her, a genuine suffering..... But that was not the whole of it, either. What did it mean? What did it mean? He could not know that part of what he was feeling was an instinctive sense of kin, the primal recognition of blood and family, a feeling which jarred against, and at the same time increased, his awed physical desire, for her. And alongside this, no less tangible, was an almost spiritual softening, and unconditional love. . .yes, love, for the beautiful and innocent child before him. Everything about her, from the gentle eyes and supple figure, to the long and simple dress she wore, seemed to him more becoming and picturesque than anything he had ever seen. At the back of his mind flashed a vision: an angelic being all in white..... For her own part, Mary also felt a shock. From the first glimpse there could be no doubt that he was in fact her brother. She knew this not by any cold comparison of features, but by the sudden love and pity that welled up in her own heart. Love because, whatever his faults and follies (these too she sensed), he was her brother, a fellow orphan and lonely, wayward soul. Her womanly instinct recognized this at once. Pity, because she saw in his eyes the rising of a passion that could never be fulfilled. He was in love with her. This she knew with equal certainty. Still holding tightly to the reins, he came forward. Remembering his pretext for coming, he began to speak stiffly of escaped prisoners and official duties. She listened, hearing not so much the content of his words, as reading in his voice and manner the confirmation of what she had intuitively sensed. And she could not help but feel a certain thrill that this powerful, aggressive man should find himself groping for speech, shy and self-conscious before her. And indeed, the young captain soon felt the emptiness of his words, which were like banners raised without wind to support them. He stopped, flushing with anger and embarrassment, and looked at her. As clearly as if she had spoken, her eyes said to him. "It doesn't matter. I know why you're here, and it's all right." She stepped closer, and without fear or hesitation, began to stroke the white muzzle of the bay, which to his surprise, did not pull away. "He's never let anyone do that," he said honestly. "A perfect stranger." He unconsciously stepped back, allowing her greater freedom. "Have you been around horses all your life?" "When I was younger, before....." Her face flushed. "But that's not why. We understand each other." "Before the war?" "Yes," she said defensively. She could not understand his persistence, into a matter that was clearly painful to her. "Do you hate us all, then?" Her eyes flashed, then became quiet again. "No. I've seen too much of hate, and death. I lost..... I lost everything."