322 CASUALS IN THE CAUCASUS 



of the autumn night was his shame as a man. By 

 every word and look and act he craved forgiveness. 

 First, he brought the sacred dressing-case and laid it 

 tenderly on the ground at her horse's feet. She would 

 not notice it. Next he bade her look through the 

 pine stems at our trophies securely packed into rough 

 telegas. She paid no heed. And he would know if her 

 coat was damp, was she tired, was she hungry, had she 

 been afraid. It didn't matter, of course, that I was 

 soaking through, and very weary, and unmistakably 

 starving ! 



From the mysterious depths of his tscherkesska the 

 Prince drew out a little morocco case — how often I 

 had seen it before — and offered it at the shrine of the 

 saddle-bow. 



Cecily took it quickly, pressed a spring, not mali- 

 ciously, I know, but for very gladness of possession, 

 and the two looked down at the picture of Someone, 

 a very stalwart Someone, with broad shoulders and 

 gaily-smiling eyes. 



" You left it behind you," said the poor Prince 

 forlornly. And when she did not reply, " I brought 

 it to you," he added. 



The dark eagle face was illumined by that which 

 eliminates all meanness, all jealousy, all pride. 



Very gently, very softly, Cecily answered : 



" Thank you, Prince. I understand." 



I could see how much he liked her acknowledgment 

 of his tenderness, for it was the best thing he had to 

 give. 



Tenderness is so innocent, it cannot be assumed 



