When the Greek army had taken possession of the province where they had lived, the men had fled into the woods with their flocks and herds, while the women and children took refuge in the fortress which defended the main road. This had not long held out against the Byzantines, and the women, among them Mandane with her mother, had been handed over to the soldiers as precious booty. Her father had then joined the troops to rescue the women, but he and his comrades had only lost their lives in the attempt. To this day the valiant man's end was a tale told in his native place, and his property and valuable rose gardens now belonged to his younger brother. So the two convalescents had plenty to talk about. It was curious to note how clearly the memories of her childhood were stamped on Mandane's mind. She had laid her wounded head on the pillow of sickness with a darkened brain, and the new pain had lifted the veil from her mind as a storm clears the oppressive atmosphere of a sultry summer's day. She loved to linger now among the scenes of her childhood--the time when she had a mother.--Or she would talk of the present; all between was like a night- sky black, and only lighted up by an awful comet and shining stars. That comet was Orion. All she had enjoyed with him and suffered through him she consigned to the period of her craziness; she had taught herself to regard it all as part of the madness to which she had been a victim. Her nature was not capable of cherishing hatred and she could feel no animosity towards the Mukaukas' son. She thought of him as of one who, without evil intent, had done her great wrong; one whom she might not even remember without running into peril. "Then you mean to say," the Masdakite began once more, "that you would really miss me if Haschim sent for me?" "Yes indeed, Rustem; I should be very sorry." "Oh!" said the other, passing his hand over his big head, on which the dense mane of hair which had been shaved off was beginning to grow again. "Well then, Mandane, in that case--I wanted to say it yesterday, but I could not get it out.--Tell me: why would you be sorry if I were to leave you?" "Because--well, no one can have all their reasons ready; because you have always been kind to me; and because you came from my country, and talk Persian with me as my mother used." "Is that all?" said the man slowly, and he rubbed his forehead. "No, no. Because--if once you go away, you will not be here." "Aye that is it; that is just the thing. And if you would be sorry for that, then you must have liked being here--with me." "And why not? It has been very nice," said the girl blushing and trying not to meet his eyes. "That it has--and that it is!" cried Rustem, striking his palm with the other huge fist. "And that is why I must have it out; that is why, if we have any sense, we two need never part."