than by her exalted
rank. They were eyes with a capacity for much laughter, she thought, and
wished Russian men had eyes like those.

"My horse is afraid of your donkey, I think," she smiled.

"It isn't my donkey," he stammered, and she laughed again frankly at his
embarrassment.

And then the unexpected happened. With a frightened neigh her horse
leapt sideways toward him. He sprang back to avoid the horse's hoofs and
heard her little exclamation of dismay. In the fraction of a second he
realized she was falling and held out his arms to catch her. For a
moment she lay on his breast, her soft cheek against his, the
overpowering fragrance of her presence taking his breath away. Then she
gently disengaged herself and stepped back. There was colour in her face
now and something which might have been mischief, or annoyance, or sheer
amusement, in her eyes.

"Thank you," she said.

Her tone was even and did not encourage further advances on his part.

"I lost my balance. Will you hold my horse's head?"

She was back in the saddle and turning, with a 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.

Kieff is built upon many hills and it has the beauty and distinction of
possessing steeper roads than any other city in Europe. He was on his
way to the Grand Hotel, and this necessitated his passing through Podol,
crossing the Hill of the Cliff, and des