Now, ninety-nine youths in a hundred who held, at such a sentimental moment, a comely and not uncared-for maiden in their arms, would have lost their heads (and their hearts) and vowed in the desired manner.

But Paul was different, and Jane knew it, to her sorrow.

He was by no means temperamentally cold; far from it.

But, you see, he lived intensely in his dream, and only on its outer fringe had Jane her place.

In the heart of it, hidden in amethystine mist, from which only flashed the diadem on her hair, dwelt the exquisite, the incomparable lady, the princess who should share his kingdom, while he knelt at her feet and worshipped her and kissed the rosy tips of her calm fingers.