She had latterly been thinking of Alvan’s rejection of the part of centaur; and his phrase, the quadruped man, breathed meaning.  He was to gain her lawfully after dominating her utterly.  That was right, but it levelled imagination.  There is in the sentimental kingdom of Love a form of reasoning, by which a lady of romantic notions who is dominated utterly, will ask herself why she should be gained lawfully:  and she is moved to do so by the consideration that if the latter, no necessity can exist for the former:  and the reverse.  In the union of the two conditions she sees herself slavishly domesticated.  With her Indian Bacchus imagination rose, for he was pliant:  she had only to fancy, and he was beside her.—­Quick to the saddle, away!  The forest of terrors is ahead; they are at the verge of it; a last hamlet perches on its borders; the dwellers have haunted faces; the timbers of their huts lean to an upright in wry splinters; warnings are moaned by men and women with the voice of a night-wind; but on and on! the forest cannot be worse than a world defied.  They drain a cup of milk apiece and they spur, for this is the way to the golden Indian land of the planted vine and the lover’s godship.—­Ludicrous!  There is no getting farther than the cup of milk with Marko.  They curvet and caper to be forward unavailingly.  It should be Alvan to bring her through the forest to the planted vine in sunland.  Her splendid prose Alvan could do what the sprig of poetry can but suggest.  Never would malicious fairy in old woman’s form have offered Alvan a cup of milk to paralyze his bride’s imagination of him confronting perils.  Yet, O shameful contrariety of the fates! he who could, will not; he who would, is incapable.  Let it not be supposed that the desire of her bosom was to be run away with in person.  Her simple human nature wished for the hero to lift her insensibly over the difficult opening chapter of the romance—­through ‘the forest,’ or half imagined:  that done, she felt bold enough to meet the unimagined, which, as there was no picture of it to terrify her, seemed an easy gallop into sunland.—­Yes, but in the grasp of a great prose giant, with the poetic departed!  Naturally she turned to caress the poetic while she had it beside her.  And it was a wonder to observe the young prince’s heavenly sensitiveness to every variation of her moods.  He knew without hearing when she had next seen Alvan, though it had not been to speak to him.  He looked, and he knew.  The liquid darkness of his large eastern eyes cast a light that brought her heart out:  she confessed it, and she comforted him.  The sweetest in the woman caused her double-dealing.