des like Diana." His enthusiasm was not to
be lightly passed over.

"Never heard of Diana riding," said I; "always saw her pictured as
going afoot."

"Don't be an ass! You know very well what I mean."

"I've no argument to offer, nor any picture to prove my case. You've
had an adventure; give it up, every bit of it."

"One of the finest horsewomen I ever saw. Took a wall three feet high
the other morning, just to see if I dared follow. Lucky Dandy is a
hunter, or I'd have broken my neck."

"Very interesting." Then of a sudden a thought flashed through my head
and out again. "Anybody with her?"

"Only myself these three mornings."

"H'm! Did you get as far as names?"

"Yes; I told her mine. Who is Hildegarde von Heideloff?"

"Heideloff?" I was puzzled. My suspicions evaporated. "I can't say
that I know any one by that name. Sure it was Heideloff?"

"Do you mean to tell me," with blank astonishment, "that there is a
petticoat on horseback in this duchy that you do not know?"

"I don't know any woman by the name of Hildegarde von Heideloff; on my
word of honor, Max, I don't."

"Old Bauer, the blacksmith, knew her."

Bauer? All my suspicions returned. "Describe the girl to me."

"Handsome figure, masses of black hair, great black eyes that are full
of good fun, a delicate nose, and I might add, a very kissable mouth."

"What! have you kissed her?" I exclaimed.

"No, no! Only, I'd like to."

"H'm! You've made quite a study. She must be visiting some one
near-by. There is an old castle three miles west of the smithy. Did
she speak English?"

"Yes,"--excitedly.

"That accounts for it. An old English nobleman lives over there during
the summer months, and it is not improbable that she is one of his
guests." In my heart I knew that her Highness was up to some of her
tricks again, but there was no need of her shattering good old Max's
heart. Yet I felt bound to say: "Why not look into the purse? There
might be something there to prove her identity."

"Look into her purse?"--horrified. "You wouldn't have me peeping into
a woman's purse, would you? Suppose there should be a box of rouge?
Her cheeks were red."

"Quite likely."

"Or a powder-puff."

"Even more likely."

"Or--"

"Go on."

"Or a love letter."

"I have my doubts," said I.

"Well, if you do not know who she is, I'll find out,"--undismayed.

Doubtless he would; he was a persistent old beggar, was Max.

"D