The face was not pale

The face was not pale, yet the colour that was in her cheeks so delicately toned with the ivory-white of forehead and neck that she looked pale. The eyes, set wide apart, were so deep a grey that in contrast with the creamy pallor of brow they appeared black,air jordans for sale.
A firm, red mouth he noticed; thin pencilling of eyebrows, a tangle of dark brown hair; but neither sight of her nor sound of her tired drawling voice, gave her such permanence in his mind as the indefinite sense of womanliness that clothed her like an aurora.
He responded wonderfully to some mysterious call she made upon the man in him. He felt that his senses played no part in shaping his view. If he had met her in the dark, and had neither seen nor heard; if she had been a bare-legged peasant girl on her way to the fields; if he had met her anywhere, anyhow--she would have been divine.
She, for her part, saw a tall young man, mahogany faced, leanly made, in old shooting-jacket and battered Stetson hat. She saw a good forehead and an unruly mop of hair, and beneath two eyes, now awe-stricken by her femininity (this she might have guessed) rather 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,moncler clerance.
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,replica chanel handbags, 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,chanel bags cheap!