That the lovely convent maiden should care for such an unworthy fellow as himself had been a marvel to him two years previously; but that now, when a princess, and capable of forming a brilliant alliance with king or noble, she should still adhere to him, was more marvellous still. Barbara, no longer able to endure this state of tension, rose to her feet, and with unsteady step moved towards Paul. "When the suitor is of inferior rank," she said with a strange catch in her voice, "court etiquette permits a princess to make the first advance in love. Thus, then, do I avail myself of the privilege. Paul," she continued, taking his hands in her own, and striving to look into his averted face, "have you forgotten your words to me on that sunny day in the old Greek temple? Day and night for two years I have never ceased to think of them. Yes, though you may reproach me with the name of Bora, your image has never been absent from my mind. Does my new rank embarrass you? To you I am the same Barbara now as I was then. I long to lay aside my state; to wander again through the pine-woods of Dalmatia; to handle an oar on the blue Adriatic as on that day when we were so cruelly parted. Ah, heaven! how cold, how silent you are! Why do you turn away your eyes? Paul, look at me," she entreated wistfully. Paul, knowing full well that her attachment to him was certain to create confusion in Czernovese politics, had come fully prepared to sacrifice his own happiness to her interests. But this appeal on her part overcame him. He could not resist the temptation presented by the beautiful face so close to his own. Moved by a sudden impulse, he clasped her passionately in his arms. "Oh! this cannot be," he murmured a moment afterwards. "It is madness." "Then let me be mad," she said with a low sweet laugh as she clung to him. "You are a princess, and I am merely a military officer." "And where would the princess now be but for the officer who found her wandering in the wild-wood?" "Princess--Barbara--I love you--" "I have been waiting for those words, Paul." "I love you--how deeply no words of mine can tell; but when I think of the difference in our rank--" "But you must not think of it, Paul," she interrupted, still within the circle of his arms, and placing her finger with a witching air on his lip. "It must be that we part. The law of Czernova forbids our union." "The Diet shall repeal that law." "Your ministers, your nobility, your people will never tolerate an untitled Englishman." "I am ruler in Czernova," she answered proudly. "No one shall dictate to me as to my choice of a consort." "The Duke of Bora--what of him?" said Paul, with difficulty pronouncing the name that had become doubly hateful to him. Barbara's eyes drooped. She hid her face on his breast.