Pulcheria has brought your hair down so prettily? And do not you
remember the head-dress our women wear? You might have ears as long as a
hare's, and what good would it do you?--no one could see them. Just as
you are, a lily grown like a cypress, you are ten times sweeter to look
at than the prettiest girl there, if she had three or even four ears. A
girl with three ears! Only think, Mandane, where could the third ear
grow?"

How heartily he laughed, and how glad he was to have hit on this jest and
have turned off a subject which might so well be painful to her! But his
mirth failed of its effect, and only brought a silent smile to her lips.
Even this died quickly away, and in its place there came such a sad,
pathetic expression, as she hung her pretty head, that he could neither
carry on the joke nor reproach her sharply. He said compassionately,
with a little shake of the head:

"But you must not look like that, my pigeon: I cannot bear it. What is
it that is weighing on your little soul? Courage, courage, sweetheart,
and make a clean breast of it!--But no! Do not speak. I can spare you
that! I know, poor little darling--it is that old story of the
governor's son."

She nodded, and her eyes filled with tears; and he, with a loud sigh,
exclaimed: "I thought as much, I was right, poor child!"

He took her hand, and went on bravely:

"Yes, that has given me some bad hours, too, and a great deal to think
about; in fact, I came very near to leaving you alone and spoiling my own
happiness and yours too. But I came to my senses before it was too late.