to say was:

"See that you are alone in the hour before dinner. There may be work to
do."

I took the hint, and as usual dispensed with Nicolai's proffered
services. Within half an hour the bookcase swung back and the Duke
entered quickly; his face was sternly exultant, his blue eyes sparkling.

"Dine well, my friend, but retire early; make what excuse you like, but
be here by ten at the latest. You will manage that well, if you do not
attend the reception," he exclaimed. "We ride from Zostrov to-night;
perhaps forever! The great game has begun at last,--the game of life and
death!"

CHAPTER XXXIX

THE FLIGHT FROM ZOSTROV

At dinner I heard that the Grand Duke was indisposed, and was dining
alone, instead, as usual, with the Count Stravensky, Commandant of the
Castle--by courtesy the chief member of his suite, but in reality his
custodian--and two or three other officers of high birth, who, with
their wives, formed as it were, the inner circle of this small Court in
the wilderness. There were a good many ladies in residence,--the great
castle was like a world in little,--but I scarcely saw any of them, as I
preferred to keep to the safe seclusion of the officers' mess, when I
was not in my own room; and there was, of course, no lack of bachelors
much more attractive than myself. I gathered from Grodwitz and others
that they managed to enliven their exile with plenty of
flirtations,--and squabbles.

On this evening the Countess Stravensky was holding a reception in her
apartments, with dancing and music; and all my usual after-dinner
companions were attending it.

"Better come, _mon ami_," urged Grodwitz. "You are not invited?
Nonsense; I tell you it is an informal affair, and it is quite time
you were presented to the Countess."

"I'd feel like a fish out of water," I protested. "I'm not used to smart
society."

"Smart! _Ma foi_, there is not much smartness about us in this deadly
hole! But have it your own way. You are as austere as our Grand Duke
himself; though you have not his excuse!" he retorted, laughing.

"What excuse?"

"You have not heard?" he asked quizzically; and rattled out a version of
the gossip that was rife concerning Anne and Loris.

"The charitable declare that there is a morganatic marriage," he
asserted. "They are probably right; for, I give you my word, he is a
sentimental fool, our good Loris. _Voila_, a bit of treason for the ears
of your friend Mishka, _hein_?"

"I