a dark tapestry, with sombre reds and purples; and in the east hung the full moon, so brilliant, so apposite, as to seem somehow almost like a piece of premeditated decoration. The waters of the fountains flashed silverly in its light; glossy leaves gave back dim reflections; here and there, embowered among the trees, white statues gleamed ghost-like. Away in the park somewhere, innumerable frogs were croaking, croaking; subdued by distance, the sound gained a quality that was plaintive and unearthly. The long façade of the palace lay obscure in shadow; only at the far end, in the Queen’s apartments, were the windows alight. But, quite close at hand, the moon caught a corner of the terrace; and here, presently, Ferdinand Augustus became aware of a human figure. A woman was standing alone by the balustrade, gazing out into the wondrous night. Ferdinand Augustus s heart began to pound; and it was a full minute before he could command himself sufficiently to move or speak.
At last, however, he approached her. "Good evening," he said, looking up from the pathway.
She glanced down at him, leaning upon the balustrade. "Oh, how do you do? She smiled her surprise. She was in evening dress, a white robe embroidered with pearls, and she wore a tiara of pearls in her hair. She had a light cloak thrown over her shoulders, a little cape trimmed with swan's-down. "Heavens!" thought Ferdinand Augustus, "How magnificent she is!"
"It's a hundred years since I have seen you," he said.
"Oh, is it so long as that? I should have imagined it was something like a fortnight. Time passes quickly."
"That is a question of psychology. But now at last I find you when I least expect you."
"I have slipped out for a moment," she explained, "to enjoy
