r hair was loosely
gathered in a knot. She kissed her hand to me, crying:

"Bring the King up, Helga; I'll give him some coffee."

The countess, with a gay glance, led the way, and took me into Flavia's
morning-room. And, left alone, we greeted one another as lovers are
wont. Then the princess laid two letters before me. One was from Black
Michael--a most courteous request that she would honour him by spending
a day at his Castle of Zenda, as had been her custom once a year in the
summer, when the place and its gardens were in the height of their great
beauty. I threw the letter down in disgust, and Flavia laughed at me.
Then, growing grave again, she pointed to the other sheet.

"I don't know who that comes from," she said. "Read it."

I knew in a moment. There was no signature at all this time, but the
handwriting was the same as that which had told me of the snare in the
summer-house: it was Antoinette de Mauban's.

"I have no cause to love you," it ran, "but God forbid that you should
fall into the power of the duke. Accept no invitations of his. Go
nowhere without a large guard--a regiment is not too much to make you
safe. Show this, if you can, to him who reigns in Strelsau."

"Why doesn't it say 'the King'?" asked Flavia, leaning over my shoulder,
so that the ripple of her hair played on my cheek. "Is it a hoax?"

"As you value life, and more than life, my queen," I said, "obey it to
the very letter. A regiment shall camp round your house today. See that
you do not go out unless well guarded."

"An order, sire?" she asked, a little rebellious.

"Yes, an order, madame--if you love me."

"Ah!" she cried; and I could not but kiss her.

"You know who sent it?" she asked.

"I guess," said I. "It is from a good friend--and I fear, an unhappy
woman. You must be ill, Flavia, and unable to go to Zenda. Make your
excuses as cold and formal as you like."

"So you feel strong enough to anger Michael?" she said, with a proud
smile.

"I'm strong enough for anything, while you are safe," said I.

Soon I tore myself away from her, and then, without consulting Sapt, I
took my way to the house of Marshal Strakencz. I had seen something
of the old general, and I liked and trusted him. Sapt was less
enthusiastic, but I had learnt by now that Sapt was best pleased when
he could do everything, and jealousy played some part in his views. As
things were now, I had more work than Sapt and Fritz could manage, for
they mu