The man's manner changed. This must be some great lady if she could pay
him in gold when he would have let her in for a few groschen. Well, these
travellers often had strange fancies; and if it pleased her to pay so
much for so small a thing!--He took the money and moved aside.

'Go in, go in, lady! Shall I come round with you? I have heard tell all
about the old days here: I can show you where Duke Eberhard Ludwig lived,
and where the Duke Karl died. I will go fetch the castle keys.' She
shuddered.

'No! no! I do not wish to see; I will only walk in the garden. Do not
disturb yourself,' she said hastily, and passed on. The gatekeeper
followed her a few steps: 'You can see the gardens of La Favorite, if you
wish; you need only walk straight from the north terraces and you will
come to La Favorite,' he called after her. How strange it was to be thus
directed by a newcomer, told the way, shown what she had planned and
devised yard by yard. She nodded to the man. 'I thank you, I shall find
my way,' she answered.

And now she was free to wander in the past, free to suffer the exquisite
pain of memory. She walked slowly on. How the trees had grown! And the
little lilacs she had planted--they were tall bushes now. The paths were
grass-grown, the water in the basin of the fountain on the south side was
covered with weeds and thick green slime, the large stone vases which
stood round the basin were moss-covered. The lichen hid the medallions on
the vases, the medallions which bore her sculptured portrait. There were
the clumps of rose peonies she had planted--in bud too--she would never
see them flower again. On, through the gardens to the courtyard where
grass grew between the paving-stones. The palace windows were closed and
shuttered. No sound broke the stillness of this deserted dwelling-place.
The thought came to her that only herself, a ghost of past glories, and
perhaps the sinister spectre of the White Lady, moved about the dead
palace. She passed on. The door of the main entrance on the ground floor
of the Corps de Logis stood ajar. Strange that it should be so in this
shut house. She entered; no, it could not matter even if the doors had
stood wide open, for the hall was entirely empty--not a chair or table
for a thief to drag away! And the well-remembered staircase, leading to
Eberhard Ludwig's apartments, was boarded up with rough deal planks.

The air struck chill and tomblike in the entrance-hall, yet the Graeve