nd as he
approached.

"I have had an accident," said she, breathing quickly. "My girth is
broke and I have lost the rest of my company."

She was glowing with her quick ride, and as Odo lifted her from the
saddle her loosened hair brushed his face like a kiss. For a moment she
seemed like life's answer to the dreary riddle of his fate.

"Ah," she sighed, leaning on him, "I am glad I found you, cousin; I
hardly knew how weary I was;" and she dropped languidly to the doorstep.

Odo's heart was beating hard. He knew it was only the stir of the spring
sap in his veins, but Maria Clementina wore a look of morning brightness
that might have made a soberer judgment blink. He turned away to examine
her saddle. As he did so, he observed that her girth was not torn, but
clean cut, as with sharp scissors. He glanced up in surprise, but she
sat with drooping lids, her head thrown back against the lintel; and
repressing the question on his lips he busied himself with the
adjustment of the saddle. When it was in place he turned to give her a
hand; but she only smiled up at him through her lashes.

"What!" said she with an air of lovely lassitude, "are you so impatient
to be rid of me? I should have been so glad to linger here a little."
She put her hand in his and let him lift her to her feet. "How cool and
still it is! Look at that little spring bubbling through the moss. Could
you not fetch me a drink from it?"

She tossed aside her riding-hat and pushed back the hair from her warm
forehead.

"Your Highness must not drink of the water here," said Odo, releasing
her hand.

She gave him a quick derisive glance. "Ah, true," she cried; "this is
the house to which that abandoned wretch used to lure poor Cerveno." She
drew back to look at the lodge. "Were you ever in it?" she asked
curiously. "I should like to see how the place looks."

She laid her hand on the door-latch, and to Odo's surprise it yielded to
her touch. "We're in luck, I vow," she declared with a laugh. "Come
cousin, let us visit the temple of romance together."

The allusion to Cerveno jarred on Odo, and he followed her in silence.
Within doors, the lodge was seen to consist of a single room, gaily
painted with hunting-scenes framed in garlands of stucco. In the dusk
they could just discern the outlines of carved and gilded furniture, and
a Venice mirror gave back their faces like phantoms in a magic crystal.

"This is stifling," said Odo impatiently. "Would