On the Way to St. Valentine's

Two, three weeks went by and the new guard was becoming an old story to
the castle and army folk. He rode with Beverly every fair day and he
looked at her window by night from afar off in the sombre barracks. She
could not dissipate the feeling that he knew her to be other than the
princess, although he betrayed himself by no word or sign. She was
enjoying the fun of it too intensely to expose it to the risk of
destruction by revealing her true identity to him. Logically, that would
mean the end of everything. No doubt he felt the same and kept his
counsel. But the game could not last forever, that was certain. A month
or two more, and Beverly would have to think of the return to
Washington.

His courage, his cool impudence, his subtle wit charmed her more than
she could express. Now she was beginning to study him from a standpoint
peculiarly and selfishly her own. Where recently she had sung his
praises to Yetive and others, she now was strangely reticent. She was to
understand another day why this change had come over her. Stories of his
cleverness came to her ears from Lorry and Anguish and even from
Dangloss. She was proud, vastly proud of him in these days. The Iron
Count alone discredited the ability and the conscientiousness of the
"mountebank," as he named the man who had put his nose out of
joint. Beverly, seeing much of Marlanx, made the mistake of chiding him
frankly and gaily about this aversion. She even argued the guard's case
before the head of the army, imprudently pointing out many of his
superior qualities in advocating his cause. The count was learning
forbearance in his old age. He saw the wisdom of procrastination. Baldos
was in favor, but someday there would come a time for his undoing.