in the forenoon, she struck a high-road, marching in that place
uphill between two stately groves, a river of sunlight; and here, dead
weary, careless of consequences, and taking some courage from the human
and civilised neighbourhood of the road, she stretched herself on the
green margin in the shadow of a tree. Sleep closed on her, at first with
a horror of fainting, but when she ceased to struggle, kindly embracing
her. So she was taken home for a little, from all her toils and sorrows,
to her Father's arms. And there in the meanwhile her body lay exposed by
the highwayside, in tattered finery; and on either hand from the woods
the birds came flying by and calling upon others, and debated in their
own tongue this strange appearance.

The sun pursued his journey; the shadow flitted from her feet, shrank
higher and higher, and was upon the point of leaving her altogether, when
the rumble of a coach was signalled to and fro by the birds. The road in
that part was very steep; the rumble drew near with great deliberation;
and ten minutes passed before a gentleman appeared, walking with a sober
elderly gait upon the grassy margin of the highway, and looking
pleasantly around him as he walked. From time to time he paused, took
out his note-book and made an entry with a pencil; and any spy who had
been near enough would have heard him mumbling words as though he were a
poet testing verses. The voice of the wheels was still faint, and it was
plain the traveller had far outstripped his carriage.

He had drawn very near to where the Princess lay asleep, before his eye
alighted on her; but when it did he started, pocketed his note-book, and
approached. There was a milestone close to where she lay; and he sat
down on that and coolly studied her. She lay upon one side, all curled
and sunken, her brow on one bare arm, the other stretched out, limp and
dimpled. Her young body, like a thing thrown down, had scarce a mark of
life. Her breathing stirred her not. The deadliest fatigue was thus
confessed in every language of the sleeping flesh. The traveller smiled
grimly. As though he had looked upon a statue, he made a grudging
inventory of her charms: the figure in that touching freedom of
forgetfulness surprised him; the flush of slumber became her like a
flower.

'Upon my word,' he thought, 'I did not think the girl could be so pretty.
And to think,' he added, 'that I am under obligation not to use one word
of this!'