tal, had invited
him to occupy a room in her house. He had gladly accepted, but now found
that his duties would not permit of his absence. He begged therefore
that, if such humble (though, as he added, clean and comfortable)
lodgings would satisfy me, I would take his place. He pledged his
sister's acquiescence, and urged the inconvenience and crowding to which
I should be subject in my journeys to and from Strelsau the next day.
I accepted his offer without a moment's hesitation, and he went off to
telegraph to his sister, while I packed up and prepared to take the next
train. But I still hankered after the forest and the hunting-lodge, and
when my little maid told me that I could, by walking ten miles or so
through the forest, hit the railway at a roadside station, I decided to
send my luggage direct to the address which Johann had given, take my
walk, and follow to Strelsau myself. Johann had gone off and was not
aware of the change in my plans; but, as its only effect was to delay
my arrival at his sister's for a few hours, there was no reason for
troubling to inform him of it. Doubtless the good lady would waste no
anxiety on my account.

I took an early luncheon, and, having bidden my kind entertainers
farewell, promising to return to them on my way home, I set out to climb
the hill that led to the Castle, and thence to the forest of Zenda.
Half an hour's leisurely walking brought me to the Castle. It had been
a fortress in old days, and the ancient keep was still in good
preservation and very imposing. Behind it stood another portion of the
original castle, and behind that again, and separated from it by a deep
and broad moat, which ran all round the old buildings, was a handsome
modern chateau, erected by the last king, and now forming the country
residence of the Duke of Strelsau. The old and the new portions were
connected by a drawbridge, and this indirect mode of access formed the
only passage between the old building and the outer world; but leading
to the modern chateau there was a broad and handsome avenue. It was an
ideal residence: when "Black Michael" desired company, he could dwell in
his chateau; if a fit of misanthropy seized him, he had merely to cross
the bridge and draw it up after him (it ran on rollers), and nothing
short of a regiment and a train of artillery could fetch him out. I went
on my way, glad that poor Black Michael, though he could not have the
throne or the princess, had, at least,