“It is my wish,” you acceded calmly. “O. K.,” he said, rising, and even in his kindness he could not help but seize the opportunity to glorify his country. “If this had happened in New York, Mr. Altai, we’d have had an ambulance here five minutes ago! Civilization isn’t all bad, I tell you, as you’d find out if you’d give it a chance.” The moment he was gone I tried to speak, and murmured “Maizie;” but you let me get no further, saying “Hush,” and putting your hand softly over my lips. I suppose you thought me merely repeating the name he had called you, while I loved your touch too deeply to resist the hand I longed to kiss. Now I am glad I did not speak, for if I had it would have robbed me of my last sweet moment with you. Long before I thought it possible, and far too soon, indeed, despite my suffering, we heard men approaching. When the torch-bearers came climbing over the rocks, my first desire was to see how much of your beauty was owing to the moonlight, and my heart leaped with exultation to find that you were beautiful even in the livid glare of the torches. “Now, Mr. Altai,” your companion remarked, “where shall we take you?” and I gave him the name of the hotel. A moment later, as they lifted me, I again fainted, but not till I had kissed your hand. You snatched it away, and did not hear my weakly whispered “Good-night, Maizie.” VII _February 26._ The setting of my leg, that night, was so long and exhausting an operation that after it was done I was given an opiate. Instead of bringing oblivion the drug produced a dreamy condition, in which I was cognizant of nothing that happened about me, and saw only your face. I knew I ought to sleep, and did my best to think of other things; but try as I might, my thought would return and dwell upon your beauty.