student at the University, and came there to pursue his learning in peace; his plain brown clothes spoke of no wealth or station, though certainly they set off a stalwart straight shape and seemed to match well with his bright brown hair and hazel eyes. Very low this young man bowed and Osra bent her head. The pace of her walk slowed, grew quicker, slowed again; she was past him, and with a great sigh he lay down again. She turned, he sprang up; she spoke coldly, yet kindly.
"Sir," said she, "I cannot but notice that you lie every day here by the river with your book, and that you sigh. Tell me your trouble, and if I can I will relieve it."
"I am reading, madame," he answered, "of Helen of Troy, and I am sighing because she is dead."
"It is an old grief by now," said Osra, smiling. "Will none serve you but Helen of Troy?"
"If I were a Prince," said he, "I need not mourn."
"No, sir?"
"No, madame," he said, with another bow.
"Farewell, sir."
"Madame, farewell."
So she went on her way, and saw him no
