proud little inclination of her head, was picking a way down the steep hill before he realized what had happened. He gazed after her, hoping at least that feminine curiosity would induce her to turn and look back, but in this he was disappointed.
The peasant, Gleb, still stood by the side of the road, his hands clasped, his head bent as though in a trance.
"Wake up, little monkey," said Malcolm testily. "Why did you not hold the horse for the lady whilst I helped her to mount?"
"Dudushka, it is forbidden, Zaprestcheno," said the man huskily. "She is Kaziomne! The property of the Czar!"
"The Czar!" gasped Malcolm.
He had lived long enough in Russia to have imbibed some of the awe and reverence for that personage.
"Little master," said the man, "it was her Magnificence, the Grand Duchess Irene Yaroslav."
"The Grand!" Malcolm gasped. The reality of his dreams and he had not recognized her!
Long after the peasant had departed he stood on the spot where he had held her, like a man in a trance, and he was very thoughtful when he picked up the reins of his horse and swung himself into the saddle.
