"I know its price is heavy--I have paid it to you just now--I am paying it every day of my life." There were tears in the voice.

I was at a loss what to say. A man is an awkward comforter at best, and when he is guilty of bringing on the trouble, he is sure only to make a worse mess of it. So I held my tongue and we rode a while in silence.

She spoke first. "I know you are quite justified in your notion of me," she said. "I have given you every reason to call me coquette, flirt, or anything of that sort."

I raised my hand in protest.

"No, let me finish," she went on. "I have only myself to blame for it.

I was warned against you before I ever saw you; and, so, I tried to play your own game from the start." (I hope I had the grace to blush; I think I had.) "But the other night, somehow, the game got too fast for me--and I--well, I bungled. But whether you believe me or not, Major Dalberg, I want to say, as a solace to myself, at least, that you are the only man who ever kissed my face."

I have smelled considerable powder in active service, and I think I may say I have a fair amount of courage, but it had all oozed away before the grieving tones and melting eyes of beauty in distress; and in another moment I should have cut and run like the rankest coward. For, what would you? A handsome woman (none I had ever seen, not even the Princess, surpa.s.sed her) almost in tears beside you--and all because of your own clumsy tongue and heavy sense.

I opened my mouth to speak; but the words did not come. In truth, my brain would not act. I was vacant of ideas. And so she waited; while our horses walked with heads together, friendly as old stable chums.

Then I found my tongue.

"My dear Lady Helen," I said, "I owe you an apology for what I did that night."

"You owe me nothing," she broke in. "You know perfectly well that when a woman is kissed in that way she has only herself to blame."

"But it takes two to make a bargain," I insisted; "and it was I who did it."

"Tell me," she demanded, "tell me honestly; you didn't imagine I would be angry?--you felt perfectly easy about it at the time?"

I bungled again, of course: I hesitated.

She laughed scornfully. "You have answered me, Major Dalberg."

"No," said I, "I have not. You were angry at the instant, though you chose to act otherwise. I thought so, then; I am sure of it now."

A feeble smile touched her lips. "Confess, that you then thought the anger only a.s.sumed."

"Didn't you act deliberately to make me think so?"

"After you had kissed me," she said, half defiantly, "what mattered it if I played it on to the end?"

"And you did it beautifully," I agreed.

"So beautifully that you intimated I proposed playing it all over again with your friend Courtney."

"You wrong me there," I objected.

She shrugged her shoulders.

"I was annoyed at your going off with him."

She turned and looked me in the eyes. "You might, at least, spare me the discourtesy of flippancy," she said.

"But I am serious, I a.s.sure you," I insisted.

She smiled incredulously. "I am so sorry to have bored you, Major Dalberg----"

"But you don't understand----" I protested.

"Please let us drop the subject," she interrupted. "Don't you think that a pretty view?" and she pointed with her crop to a mite of a lake below us, flashing through the trees.

I hope I did not show in my face how willing I was to change the subject; and I know I tried to keep it out of my voice. But I fear I grew altogether too enthusiastic over the bit of scenery for, presently, Lady Helen remarked dryly:

"One would never imagine you a lover of--nature."

I pulled myself up sharply. "Are my looks so much against me?"

"I don't see that looks have anything to do with it. I mean one does not a.s.sociate such tastes with professional soldiers. Nature, to them, would normally represent only obstacles to overcome or advantages to be utilized."

"But men do not look at everything through their professional eyes," I laughed. "If they did, every lawyer when he saw you would have but the one thought: 'What a glorious plaintiff for a breach of promise case.'"

"I suppose you think that complimentary," she said.

"It was not so intended."

"I trust not."

"I used it only to ill.u.s.trate the proposition."

"Are you trying to make me quarrel with you?" she demanded.

"Surely not."

"Then let us avoid the personal."

"I will do anything to preserve the peace," I said--"and be shown those other rides."

"The peace depends entirely upon yourself."

"And the rides?"

She studied her gloves a bit. "They depend upon your good behavior and--the future." And now, something of the old sweetness was in her smile.

"Then the rides are sure," I said. "Come, let us give the horses a chance to stretch themselves."

We pulled up at the Old Forge; a smithy long deserted and now almost hidden beneath vines and undergrowth. It lay at the crossways of two roads--like a log on a saw-buck--and our route was around it to the left. Just beside the track a spring bubbled out into a wide rock basin. At the basin a tall bay horse was drinking; and in the saddle, with hands clasped around the pommel, sat the Princess Dehra, so deep in thought she did not note our approach.

It was the horse who aroused her by the nervous upward fling of his head. Then she held out her hand to Lady Helen--and gave me a smile.

"I am not the only one, then, who likes the early morning?" she said.

"It's the cream of the day," said Lady Helen.

"Rather the champagne of the day," the Princess answered. Then she laughed. "I forgot, Major Dalberg, it isn't well to take champagne before breakfast."