"Fellowship," he answered.
"I want you to tell me more yet, and much more," she said. "You know this passes through my mind like a tale that is told. You even. . . . In a day perhaps, or after several days, I shall believe in you. Now— Now I am dreaming. . . . Listen!"
The first stroke of a clock above the palace offices far away had penetrated to them. Each counted mechanically "Seven."
"This," she said, "should be the hour of my return. They will be taking my bowl of coffee into the hall where I sleep. The little officials and servants—you cannot dream how grave they are—will be stirring about their little duties.
"They will wonder. . . . But I want to talk to you."
She thought. "But I want to think too. I want now to think alone, and think out this change in things, think away the old solitude, and think you and those others into my world. . . . I shall go. I shall go back to-day to my place in the castle, and to-morrow, as the dawn comes, I shall come again—here."
"I shall be here waiting for you."
"All day I shall dream and dream of this new world you have given me. Even now, I can scarcely believe———"
She took a step back and surveyed him from the feet to the face. Their eyes met and locked for a moment.
"Yes," she said, with a little laugh that was half a sob. "You are real. But it is very wonderful! Do
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