d for princesses."

"Hard for the knights, too, for they cannot come back and carry off
their ladies. In the old days it used to be so, but then simplicity has
gone out of life."

"And the princess waits and watches and cries herself to sleep?

"And the knight goes off to the World's End and never forgets."

They were at Glenavelin gates now, and stood silent against the moment
of parting. She flew to his arms, for a second his kisses were on her
lips, and then came the sundering. A storm of tears was in her heart,
but with dry eyes she said the words of good-bye. Meanwhile from the
hills came a drift of snow, and a dreary wind sang in the pines the
dirge of the dead summer, the plaint of long farewells.

PART II

CHAPTER XX

THE EASTERN ROAD

If you travel abroad in certain seasons you will find that a type
predominates among the travellers. From Dover to Calais, from Calais to
Paris, there is an unnatural eagerness on faces, an unrest in gait, a
disorder in dress which argues worry and haste. And if you inquire
further, being of a speculative turn, you will find that there is
something in the air. The papers, French and English, have ugly
headlines and mystic leaders. Disquiet is in the atmosphere, each man
has a solution or a secret, and far at the back sits some body of men
who know that a crisis is near and square their backs for it. The
journalist is sick with work and fancied importance; the diplomat's hair
whitens with the game which he cannot understand; the statesman, if he
be wise, is in fear, knowing the meaning of such movements, while, if he
be foolish, he chirps optimistically in his speeches and is applauded in
the press. There are grey faces at the seats of the money-changers, for
war, the scourge of small cords, seems preparing for the overturning of
their tables, and the castigation of their persons.

Lewis and George rang the bell in the Faubourg St. Honore on a Monday
afternoon, and asked for Lord Rideaux. His lordship was out, but, if
they were the English gentlemen who had the appointment with M. Gribton,
Monsieur would be with them speedily.

Lewis looked about the heavily furnished ante-room with its pale yellow
walls and thick, green curtains, with the air of a man trying to recall
a memory. "I came over here with John Lambert, when his father had the
place. That was just after I left Oxford. Gad, I was a happy man then.
I thought I could do anything. They put me next to Madame