pite of itself, at the mere sight of open
sky. The daughters of the twenty peers of Yaque! Of course they were
to be considered. Why should he fear that, because Olivia was in
Yaque, the mere mention of a betrothal referred to Olivia? He was
bold enough to smile at his fears, to smile even when, as the prince
ceased speaking, the music sounded again, as it were from the air,
in a chorus of pure young voices with a ripple of unknown strings in
accompaniment.

Suddenly, at the opening of great doors, a flood of saffron light
was poured upon a stair, and at the summit appeared the leisurely
head of a procession which the two men were destined never to
forget. Across the gallery and down the stair--it might have been
the Golden Stair linking Near with Far--came a score of exquisite
women in all the glory of their youth, of perfect physical beauty
and splendid strength and fullness of life; and the wonder was not
their beauty more than a kind of dryad delicacy of that beauty,
which was yet not frailty but a look of angelic strength. But they
were not remote--they were gloriously human, almost, one would say,
divinely human, all gentle movement and warmth and tender breath.
They were not remote, save as one's own soul would be remote by its
very excess of intimacy with life, Little maids, so shy that their
actuality was certain, came before them carrying flowers, and these
were followed by youths scattering fragrant burning powder whose
fallen flames were instantly pounced upon and extinguished by small
furry lemurs trained to lay silver discs upon the flames. And as
they all ranged themselves about the throne a little figure appeared
at the top of the stairway alone, beneath the lifted curtain.

She was veiled; but the elastic step, the girlish grace, the poise
and youthful dignity were not to be mistaken. The room whirled round
St. George, and then closed in about him and grew dark. For this was
the woman advancing to her betrothal; from the manner of her
entrance there could be no doubt of that. And it was none of the
daughters of the twenty peers. It was Olivia.

She wore a trailing gown of rainbow hues, more like the hues of
water than of texture, and the warm light fell upon these as she
descended and variously multiplied them to beauty. Her little feet
were sandaled and a veil of indescribable thinness was wound about
her abundant hair and fell across her face, but the gold of her hair
escaped the veil and rippled