Yes, their eyes met, those of the new-crowned Empress on her throne and of the youthful noble in the throng below.

Short was the greeting, for next instant she looked away, yet more full of meaning than whole days of speech.
"The Queen does not forget what the child remembered, the goddess is still a woman," it seemed to say.

And so sweet was that message that Rames staggered from the Court like one stricken by the sun.
Night came at last, and having dismissed her secretaries, scribes and tire-women the weary girl, now clad in simple white, sat in her chamber alone.

She thought of all the splendours through which she had passed; she thought of the glories of her imperial state, of the power that she wielded, and of the proud future which stretched before her feet.
But most of all she thought of the face of the young Count Rames, the playmate of her childhood, the man she loved, and wondered, ah! how she wondered, if with all her power she could ever draw him to her side.
If not, of what use was this rule over millions, this dominion of her world?
They called her a goddess, and in truth, at times, she believed that she was half-divine, but if so, why did her heart ache like that of any common maid?
Moreover, was she really set above the misfortunes of her race?
Could a throne, however bright with gold, lift her above the sorrows of human kind?
She desired to learn the truth, the very truth.

Her mind was urgent, it drove her on to search out things to come, to stand face to face with them, even if they were evil.