Marjorie Bowen,
The Quest of Glory
“ Wenceslas cast a pale reflected light on to his countenance, which, always lovely in line and colour, was now transformed by an unearthly passion into an exquisite nobility. He was absolutely still in his exalted absorption, and only the liquid lustre of his eyes showed that he lived, for his very breath seemed suppressed. The young captain looked at him tenderly. “Beautiful as the early morning of spring,” he thought, “are the first years of youth.” ”
