truck towards the palace, and he followed it through the
thick shadows and branching alleys of the park. It was a busy place on a
fine summer's afternoon, when the court and burghers met and saluted; but
at that hour of the night in the early spring it was deserted to the
roosting birds. Hares rustled among the covert; here and there a statue
stood glimmering, with its eternal gesture; here and there the echo of an
imitation temple clattered ghostly to the trampling of the mare. Ten
minutes brought him to the upper end of his own home garden, where the
small stables opened, over a bridge, upon the park. The yard clock was
striking the hour of ten; so was the big bell in the palace bell-tower;
and, farther off, the belfries of the town. About the stable all else
was silent but the stamping of stalled horses and the rattle of halters.
Otto dismounted; and as he did so a memory came back to him: a whisper of
dishonest grooms and stolen corn, once heard, long forgotten, and now
recurring in the nick of opportunity. He crossed the bridge, and, going
up to a window, knocked six or seven heavy blows in a particular cadence,
and, as he did so, smiled. Presently a wicket was opened in the gate,
and a man's head appeared in the dim starlight.

'Nothing to-night,' said a voice.

'Bring a lantern,' said the Prince.

'Dear heart a' mercy!' cried the groom. 'Who's that?'

'It is I, the Prince,' replied Otto. 'Bring a lantern, take in the mare,
and let me through into the garden.'

The man remained silent for a while, his head still projecting through
the wicket.

'His Highness!' he said at last. 'And why did your Highness knock so
strange?'

'It is a superstition in Mittwalden,' answered Otto, 'that it cheapens
corn.'

With a sound like a sob the groom fled. He was very white when he
returned, even by the light of the lantern; and his hand trembled as he
undid the fastenings and took the mare.

'Your Highness,' he began at last, 'for God's sake . . . ' And there he
paused, oppressed with guilt.

'For God's sake, what?' asked Otto cheerfully. 'For God's sake let us
have cheaper corn, say I. Good-night!' And he strode off into the
garden, leaving the groom petrified once more.

The garden descended by a succession of stone terraces to the level of
the fish-pond. On the far side the ground rose again, and was crowned by
the confused roofs and gables of the palace. The modern pillared front,
the ball-room,