'You love my niece?'
He inclined his head in silence.
'It is very natural,' said the Princess, faintly. 'Wanda is a beautiful woman; many men have loved her; they might as well have loved that glacier yonder.'
'It is not that,' said Sabran, hastily. 'It is my own poverty——'
The Princess looked at him keenly.
'Do you think her not cold?'
'She who can so love a brother would surely love her lover not less, did she stoop to one,' he replied evasively. 'At least I think so; I ought not to presume to judge.'
'And you care for her?' The glance her eyes gave him added as plainly as words could have done, 'It is not only her wealth, her position? Are you sure?'
He coloured very much as he answered quickly: 'Were she beggared to-morrow, you would see.'
'It is a pity,' murmured the Princess. He did not ask her what she regretted; he knew her sympathy was with him.