"Come," she said suddenly.

"We shall meet no one, except my maid, perhaps--Elettra.

Do you know her?
Her husband was under-steward, and was killed." "I know of her--I buried him," answered the priest.
She led the way to her own part of the house, to the large room which served her as dressing-room and boudoir.

After all, as he had said, he was a priest and an old man.

She made him sit down beside her fire, in her own low easy-chair, for he looked thin and cold, she thought, and she felt charitably disposed towards him, not dreaming what he was going to say, and supposing that he had exaggerated the importance of his errand.
"Princess--" he began, and paused, choosing his words.
"Do not call me that," she said.