The Prince of India, vol 2 | Page 2

of the Princess's popularity with the
poor along the Bosphorus. Nor that merely. A little reflection will lead
up to an explanation of her preference for the Homeric residence by
Therapia. The commonalty, especially the unfortunate amongst them,
were a kind of constituency of hers, and she loved living where she
could most readily communicate with them.
This was the hour she chose to go out and personally visit her guests.
Descending from the portico, she led her household attendants into the
garden. She alone appeared unveiled. The happiness of the many
amongst whom she immediately stepped touched every spring of
enjoyment in her being; her eyes were bright, her cheeks rosy, her spirit
high; in a word, the beauty so peculiarly hers, and which no one could

look on without consciousness of its influence, shone with singular
enhancement.
News that she was in the garden spread rapidly, and where she went
everyone arose and remained standing. Now and then, while making
acknowledgments to groups along the way, she recognized
acquaintances, and for such, whether men or women, she had a smile,
sometimes a word. Upon her passing, they pursued with benisons,
"God bless you!" "May the Holy Mother keep her!" Not unfrequently
children ran flinging flowers at her feet, and mothers knelt and begged
her blessing. They had lively recollection of a sickness or other
overtaking by sorrow, and of her boat drawing to the landing laden
with delicacies, and bringing what was quite as welcome, the charm of
her presence, with words inspiring hope and trust. The vast, vociferous,
premeditated Roman ovation, sonorously the Triumph, never brought a
Consular hero the satisfaction this Christian woman now derived.
She was aware of the admiration which went with her, and the
sensation was of walking through a purer and brighter sunshine. Nor
did she affect to put aside the triumph there certainly was in the
demonstration; but she accounted it the due of charity--a triumph of
good work done for the pleasure there was in the doing.
At the basin mentioned as the landward terminus of the garden the
progress in that direction stopped. Thence, after gracious attentions to
the women and children there, the Princess set out for the summit of the
promontory. The road taken was broad and smooth, and on the left
hand lined from bottom to top with pine trees, some of which are yet
standing.
The summit had been a place of interest time out of mind. From its
woody cover, the first inhabitants beheld the Argonauts anchor off the
town of Amycus, king of the Bebryces; there the vengeful Medea
practised her incantations; and descending to acknowledged history, it
were long telling the notable events of the ages landmarked by the
hoary height. When the builder of the palace below threw his scheme of
improvement over the brow of the hill, he constructed water basins on
different levels, surrounding them with raised walls artistically

sculptured; between the basins he pitched marble pavilions, looking in
the distance like airy domes on a Cyclopean temple; then he drew the
work together by a tesselated pavement identical with the floor of the
house of Caesar hard by the Forum in Rome.
Giving little heed to the other guests in occupancy of the summit, the
attendants of the Princess broke into parties sight seeing; while she
called Sergius to her, and conducted him to a point commanding the
Bosphorus for leagues. A favorite lookout, in fact, the spot had been
provided with a pavement and a capacious chair cut from a block of the
coarse brown limestone native to the locality. There she took seat, and
the ascent, though all in shade, having been wearisome, she was glad of
the blowing of the fresh upper air.
From a place in the rear Sergius had witnessed the progress to the
present halt. Every incident and demonstration had been in his view
and hearing. The expressions of affection showered upon the Princess
were delightful to him; they seemed so spontaneous and genuine. As
testimony to her character in the popular estimate at least, they left
nothing doubtful. His first impression of her was confirmed. She was a
woman to whom Heaven had confided every grace and virtue. Such
marvels had been before. He had heard of them in tradition, and always
in a strain to lift those thus favored above the hardened commonplace
of human life, creatures not exactly angels, yet moving in the same
atmosphere with angels. The monasteries, even those into whose gates
women are forbidden to look, all have stories of womanly excellence
which the monks tell each other in pauses from labor in the lentil patch,
and in their cells after vesper prayers. In brief, so did Sergius' estimate
of the Princess increase that he was unaware of