the
Princess, turning quickly, caught my look and straightway read my
thoughts. A sudden flush swept over her face and neck and she dropped
her eyes. Silently I placed a chair for her; as she took it, her bare
arm rested against my hand. The effect on me, in the stress of my
feelings at that moment, is indescribable. I know I gasped--and my
throat got hot and my heart pounded in sharp pain.

But I did not withdraw my hand--nor did the Princess remove her arm.
Its soft, warm flesh pressed against my fingers--the perfume of her
hair enveloped my face--the beat of her bosom was just below me.

A fierce impulse seized me to take her in my arms--there, before them
all, the Court and the Capital. Reason told me to step back. Yet I
could not. Instead, I gripped the chair fiercely, and, by that very
act, pushed my fingers only more closely against her.

Was I dreaming--or did I feel an answering pressure, not once but twice
repeated. I was sure of it. I bent forward. Quickly she looked up at
me with eyes half closed.

"How cold your hand is, Armand," she said.

"Does it chill you, dear?" I whispered.

She smiled. "It never could do that," she answered. "But won't you
sit beside me, now?"

"Yes, I suppose so," I said reluctantly. "Only, I'm nearer you as I
am."

Then I took my chair, drawing it a trifle in the rear, so, being
obliged to lean forward, I would be closer to her and could speak
softly in her ear.

"You're very bold, Armand; you are always doing things so publicly,"
she said.

"It was an accident--at first."

"And afterward, sir?"

"Afterward, I was powerless."

"My arm would not believe you."

"Powerless to remove my hand, I mean."

"Powerlessness, with you, has queer manifestations," she said.

"Yes--sometimes it's passive and sometimes active."

"It was active, I suppose, that day in the King's cabinet, when you
gave me that cousinly kiss."

"If we were not so public I would----"

She looked at me with the most daring invitation. "It is because we
are so public that you are permitted to sit so near."

"Then, why blame me if I take the only opportunities you give me?" I
asked.

She half closed her eyes and looked at me, side-long, through her
lashes.

"Have I ever blamed you?" she asked.

"Dehra," said I, "if you look at me like that I shall kiss you now."

She closed her eyes a trifle more. "Where, Armand?" she said. "You
have been kissing my hair every time I let