"Never." He felt the pity in her tone, and added, with a shamefacedness curiously in contrast with his former hauteur: "But I have read much." "That is not the same thing," she returned. "No book could make you understand how wonderful and beautiful things are." He looked at her, and for a second time their eyes met. "You are right," he said. "Hitherto I have thought myself all-wise. I have studied hard, and I believed there was nothing I did not know. Now I see that there are wonders in the world of which I have never even dreamed." Her glance wavered beneath the undisguised admiration in his eyes and voice. Then she asked gently: "Now that you have seen, will you not leave your hermitage? Surely it is wrong to shut one's heart against the world in which one lives. There is so much work to be done, so much to learn, and you have been granted power and wealth, Your Highness. The call upon your help is greater than upon others." His brows knitted. "Do you hate us so?" she asked. "Hate you?" he repeated wonderingly. "Why should I hate you?" "Yet, from your tone, I judged that you had kept seclusion because intercourse with my country-people meant defilement," she said boldly. A flush crept up under his dark skin. "Those are things I can not explain," he said; "but they have nothing to do with hatred. I have heard much of the English heroes. Their deeds of daring and self-sacrifice have filled my heart with love and veneration. I know that they are the greatest and noblest people of the earth. I love great and noble people. I do not hate them." "I am glad," she said. They had reached the gates which opened out on to the highroad, and as though by mutual consent both came to a standstill. "Your Highness has been most good to me," she went on. "I can find my way perfectly now. I am only puzzled to know how I should ever have lost it so much as to have wandered into your garden." "Some sentry must have slept," he remarked grimly. "But you will not punish any one?" "Whoever it was, he was only the servant of destiny, like us all," he said. "No harm shall come to him." He paused, and then added with a slight effort: "One of the sentries shall accompany you." "No, no," she answered energetically. "That is not necessary. I would rather go alone." He pointed upward to the sky, whose blue was deepening into the violet shades of night. "It will be dark before you reach your destination," he said. "Are you not afraid?" She laughed merrily. "Of what should I be afraid? There are no maneaters about here, as I understand. As for men, I am prepared to encounter at least six of them. Look!" She drew from the bosom of her dress a small revolver of exquisite workmanship, and held it out to him. "It has all six chambers loaded," she added. He took the weapon, pretending to examine it; but his pulses had recommenced their painful beating, and he saw nothing but her face. "Are all Englishwomen so brave and beautiful?"