am an obscure foreigner."

"Friendship, Monsieur, is a thing we all should prize, all the
more so when it is disinterested."

He said rapidly, for fear she might hear his teeth chatter:
"They say she is very beautiful. Tell me what she is like."

"I am no judge of what men call beauty. As to her character, I
believe I may recommend that. She is good."

He was sure that merriment twitched the corners of her lips, and
he grew thoughtful. "Alexia. Is that not her Highness's name
also?"

"Yes, Monsieur; we have the same names." Her eyes fell, and she
began to finger the pages of the book.

"I am rested now," he said, with a sudden distrust. "I thank you."

"Come, then, and I will show you the way to the gate."

"I am sorry to have troubled you," he said.

She did not reply, and together they walked up the path. The
plants were dying, and the odor of decay hovered about them.
Splashes of rich vermilion crowned the treetops, leaves of gold,
russet and faded green rustled on the ground. The sun was gone
behind the hills, the lake was tinted with salmon and dun, and
Maurice (who honestly would have liked to run) was turning