Baldos, the goat-hunter, was dreamily thinking of the beautiful young
woman at his side and of the queer freak Fortune had played in bringing
them together. As he studied her face he could not but lament that
marriage, at least, established a barrier between her and the advances
his bold heart might otherwise be willing to risk. His black hair
straggled down over his forehead and his dark eyes--the patch had been
surreptitiously lifted--were unusually pensive.
"It is strange that you live in Graustark and have not seen its
princess--before," she said, laying groundwork for enquiry concerning
the acts and whereabouts of the real princess.
"May it please your highness, I have not lived long in
Graustark. Besides, it is said that half the people of Ganlook have
never looked upon your face."
"I'm not surprised at that. The proportion is much smaller than I
imagined. I have not visited Ganlook, strange as it may seem to you."
"One of my company fell in with some of your guards from the Ganlook
garrison day before yesterday. He learned that you were to reach that
city within forty-eight hours. A large detachment of men has been sent
to meet you at Labbot."
"Oh, indeed," said Beverly, very much interested.
"They must have been misinformed as to your route--or else your Russian
escort decided to take you through by the lower and more hazardous way.
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