he horse I rode, and the dog at his heels, but for me the
intensity was inspiriting. Nothing lay in the light, I had the land to
myself. 'What hurts me?' I thought. My physical pride was up, and I
looked on the cattle in black corners of the fields, and here and there a
man tumbled anyhow, a wreck of limbs, out of the insupportable glare,
with an even glance. Not an eye was lifted on me.

I saw nothing that moved until a boat shot out of the bight of sultry
lake-water, lying close below the dark promontory where I had drawn rein.
The rower was old Schwartz Warhead. How my gorge rose at the impartial
brute! He was rowing the princess and a young man in uniform across the
lake.

That they should cross from unsheltered paths to close covert was
reasonable conduct at a time when the vertical rays of the sun were fiery
arrow-heads. As soon as they were swallowed in the gloom I sprang in my
saddle with torture, transfixed by one of the coarsest shafts of hideous
jealousy. Off I flew, tearing through dry underwood, and round the bend
of the lake, determined to confront her, wave the man aside, and have my
last word with the false woman. Of the real Ottilia I had lost
conception. Blood was inflamed, brain bare of vision: 'He takes her hand,
she jumps from the boat; he keeps her hand, she feigns to withdraw it,
all woman to him in her eyes: they pass out of sight.' A groan burst from
me. I strained my crazy imagination to catch a view of them under cover
of the wood and torture myself trebly, but it was now blank, shut fast.
Sitting bolt upright, panting on horseback in the yellow green of one of
the open woodways, I saw the young officer raise a branch of chestnut and
come out. He walked moodily up to within a yard of my horse, looked up at
me, and with an angry stare that grew to be one of astonishment, said,
'Ah? I think I have had the pleasure--somewhere? in Wurtemberg, if I
recollect.'

It was Prince Otto. I dismounted. He stood alone. The spontaneous
question on my lips would have been 'Where is she?' but I was unable to
speak a word.

'English?' he said, patting the horse's neck.

'Yes--the horse? an English hunter. How are you, Prince Otto? Do you like
the look of him?'

'Immensely. You know we have a passion for English thoroughbreds. Pardon
me, you look as if you had been close on a sunstroke. Do you generally
take rides in this weather?'

'I was out by chance. If you like him, pray take him; take him. Mount hi