Yaque
touring car. Save for her, the room was deserted; it was as if the
prince had come to the castle and found the Sleeping Princess the
only one awake.

If in that supreme moment St. George had leaped forward and taken
her in his arms no one--no one, that is, in the fairy-tale of what
was happening--would greatly have censured him. But he stood without
for a moment, hardly daring to believe his happiness, hardly knowing
that her name was on his lips.

He had spoken, however, and she turned quickly, her look uncertainly
seeking the doorway, and she saw him. For a moment she stood still,
her eyes upon his face; then with a little incredulous cry that
thrilled him with a sudden joyous hope that was like belief, she
came swiftly toward him.

St. George loved to remember that she did that. There was no waiting
for assurance and no fear; only the impulse, gloriously obeyed, to
go toward him.

He stepped in the room, and took her hands in his and looked into
her eyes as if he would never turn away his own. In her face was a
dawning of glad certainty and welcome which he could not doubt.

"You," she cried softly, "you. How is it possible? But how is it
possible?"

Her voice trembled a little with something so sweet that it raced
through his veins with magic.

"Did you rub the lamp?" he said. "Because I couldn't help coming."

She looked at him breathlessly.

"Have you," he asked her gravely, "eaten of the potatoes of Yaque?
And are you going to say, 'Off with his head'? And can you tell me
what is the population of the island?"

At that they both laughed--the merry, irrepressible laugh of youth
which explains that the world is a very good place indeed and that
one is glad that one belongs there. And the memory of that breakfast
on the other side of the world, of their happy talk about what would
happen if they two were impossibly to meet in Yaque came back to
them both, and set his heart beating and flooded her face with
delicate colour. In her laugh was a little catching of the breath
that was enchanting.

"Not yet," she said, "your head is safe till you tell me how you got
here, at all events. Now tell me--oh, tell me. I can't believe it
until you tell me."

She moved a little away from the door.

"Come in," she said shyly, "if you've come all the way from America
you must be very tired."

St. George shook his head.

"Come out," he pleaded, "I want to stand on top of a high mountain
and show you the