been
that of an empress; then moved away and went plump on his knees before
Loris.

"Where is he going?" I asked Anne, ranging my horse alongside.

"Back to his work, like the good man he is," she said, her eyes fixed on
Loris, who had raised the old steward and was speaking to him rapidly
and affectionately. "He came thus far lest we should have need of him;
perhaps also because he would say farewell to me,--since we shall not
meet again. But now he will return and continue his duty at Zostrov as
long as he is permitted to do so. That may not be long,--but still his
post is there."

"They will murder him, as some of them tried to murder the Duke last
night," I said. "You have heard of the explosion?"

She nodded, but made no comment, and, as Pavloff mounted and rode off
alone, Loris also mounted and joined us with Vassilitzi, and the four of
us started at a hand-gallop, a little ahead of the others. Loris rode on
Anne's right hand, I on her left, and I noticed, as I glanced at her
from time to time, how weary and wistful her face was, when the
transient smile had vanished; how wide and sombre the eyes that, as I
knew of old, changed with every mood, so that one could never determine
their color; at one moment a sparkling hazel, at another--as now--dark
and mysterious as the sky on a starless night.

The last part of our route lay through thick woods, where the cold light
of the dawn barely penetrated as yet, though the foliage was thin
overhead, and the autumn leaves made a soft carpet on which our horses'
hoofs fell almost without a sound.

We seemed to move like a troop of shadows through that ghostly twilight.
One could imagine it an enchanted forest, like those of our nursery
tales, with evil things stirring in the brakes all about us, and
watching us unseen. Once there came a long-drawn wail from near at hand;
and a big wolf, homing to his lair at the dawning, trotted across the
track just ahead, and bared his fangs in a snarl before he vanished. A
few minutes later another sound rang weirdly above the stealthy
whispers of the forest,--the scream of some creature in mortal fear and
pain.

"That is a horse that the wolves are after--or they've got him!"
exclaimed Vassilitzi. He and I were leading now, for the track was only
wide enough for two to ride abreast. We quickened our pace, though we
were going at a smart trot, and as a second scream reached our ears,
ending abruptly in a queer gurgle, we saw in