I could not advance. Something about
the lovely grace of her body held me enthralled. Furthermore, I had no
right to be here; I was an interloper, a prowler! There were but two
things to do, and do at once, to wit, make myself humble and scarce.

"Doloria," I said.

She did not move, perhaps she had not heard, so I kneeled and took one
of her hands, whereupon she sprang to her feet looking at me strangely,
wildly.

"You've no right here," she cried. "You've broken faith!"

"No, please no," I said quickly. "I'm too desperate to care where I am
when you're angry! Since you called me damnable--said you hated me--the
world's turned black; so I'm not deliberately trespassing--only lost,
because you've taken away your smile!"

"_You_ took it away," she retorted. "You'd murder any girl's smile by
such--brutality!"

"Brutality!" I gasped.

"Truthfulness," she stamped her foot.

"But I wasn't truthful," I hurried to tell her. "I lied like the devil
to call your bluff--wanted to make you own up because--well, you'd lied
a little, too! I never dreamed my joke would hurt you. Great God," I now
cried passionately, "to think of hurting you who are my life and breath
and----" I caught myself, stopping short and looking at her; then slowly
adding: "You didn't say a word in your sleep, I swear it. It was
beautiful of you to trust me that way, and--and if you'll rescue our
breakfast I'll never be such an idiot again."

She had partly turned away at my impassioned outburst, but the assurance
I gave that Somnus had been dumb brought a hint of the fascinating curve
to her lips. Yet her eyes still expressed doubt, and I was growing
desperate enough even to humor her incredulity, hoping thereby to
discover another road to favor, when she asked:

"You're not just saying that?"

"On my honor it's true--every word! I'm sorry, Princess!"

Again she turned away her face, looking across the spring and murmuring,
as though to someone there:

"It's because he's hungry, I suppose,"--then whirled and held out both
hands to me, in that sweet way of hers. "It's I who am cruel,
Chancellor. Come, poor man, I'll feed you; you look as glum as
Pharaoh--was Pharaoh glum? I'll beat you to the kitchen!" And she
bounded away, almost before the challenge had been given.

Straight she sped with astonishing swiftness, skimming over fallen logs,
darting this way and that through festoons of vines, with the grace of a
frightened doe. In freedom of m