veller, but she did not venture up
to the castle. She might have dared it, for none would have remembered
her, or recognised in the tall, white-haired woman the beautiful young
courtesan who had held mock court in the ancient university castle. She
learned that no Duke had resided there for many years, it was entirely
given up to the students and their grave professors.

'But the state-rooms? I heard that there were fine apartments in the
castle, where princes and their courts held high revel?' she queried of
the innkeeper.

'Eh! all those are dismantled now, Madame,' returned the man.
Dismantled--the word rang in her ears. Yes; the very scenes of her
glorious past were changed.

Through the shadowy Tuebingen forest she journeyed onwards. She commanded
her driver to turn aside before Stuttgart, and thus she passed along
by-roads to Ludwigsburg.

The sun was still high in the heavens when she entered the
well-remembered avenue of shady chestnut-trees. Here too Spring had been
busy, crowning the trees with bloom. A regal decoration for her
home-coming, she thought.

At the stately town-gate her coach halted, and for the first time in her
life she paid toll upon entering Ludwigsburg. Her eyes sought the
monogram sculptured on the stone gate-pillars: 'E. L.' entwined in
graceful curves on a rounded shield upheld by playful amorini. How well
she remembered when Frisoni had brought her the drawings for this device.
Would her Excellency wish her chiffre to appear in the design? the
Italian had asked, and she had rejected the proposal, she hardly knew
why.

Her coach lumbered down the Ludwigsburg street. It was in a deplorable
condition, and the heavy carriage jolted and swung from side to side. The
houses which bordered one side of the street were closed and shuttered,
and their blank windows seemed like sightless yet imploring eyes gazing
towards the deserted palace gardens.

The driver halted. She heard him shouting to one of the rare passers-by
in this dead city, 'Where is the inn?' She made a movement forward and
would have called through the window, 'The inn is further down the
street,' but she checked herself, remembering that she must betray no
knowledge of the town she had created.

It was a daring thing, this visit to Wirtemberg. Who could tell if some
one might not recognise her and set a howling mob upon her? The law would
not interfere with her; she had been pardoned, and was merely passing
through the c