H. Bedford-Jones

“ Her gray eyes lay level on his, a sword of steel held athwart his gaze. "I am happy."
"Happiness ends," said Kent harshly.
"Not when it is in the heart, monsieur." She paused and smiled. "What do you most desire?"
Kent lifted his head. There across the river rose the imperial city, forbidden to natives. It was the most glorious bit of architecture the Chinese race ever produced. The royal tombs transcended the northern Ming tombs in splendor of conception. Not Peking in all its glory was so beautiful as this palace city of the Kings of Anam. ”

“ Instead of going to others, she drew others to her. Men came seeking most singular things—officials who lacked skill to rule, palace mandarins who brought gifts of jade and sought help, fools who had made mistakes and needed her strength behind their weakness. All of these looked into her gray eyes and dared speak no word of love.
Kent walked with her in the garden—a sweet place, with its fragments of ancient carvings from jungled cities, its gently fastooned orchids, its stone-bordered pools, and the curious sun-dial, where a stone mandarin pointed the hours with his button. ”

“ Men came frequently to the Marquet house—good men and bad; but few attained intimacy with Marie Marquet, who ruled this house and the beautiful garden, and the city, and half the broad miles of Anam. Of these few—a curious thing!—some were evil men, who beheld in Marie's gray eyes everything that they had lost and would never find again. ”