She was leaning out of one of the high, floriated windows, looking down on him with pleased, secret understanding as she might have smiled from her palace walls on the festival that brought the young knight George home with the conquered dragon.

It was the compressed and pregnant meaning of her gaze that drew his own upward, and it was then when the Lovely Lady turned and waved her hand at him that he felt the girl stir strangely beside him.
"How full the night is of the sense of presences," she said, "as if all the loved marbles came to life and the adored had left their canvases.

I cannot think but it is so." "Oh, I am sure of it." She moved again with the vague restlessness of one stared upon by innumerable eyes.

"How one would like to speak," she said.

"They seem so near us." There was a warm tide of that nearness rising in Peter's blood.