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"Easily ranks with, if not above, 'A Prisoner of Zenda. ... Wonderfully strong, graphic, and compels the interest of the most blasé novel reader." Boston Advertiser. "No adventures were ever better worth telling than those of Count Antonio.... The author knows full well how to make every pulse thrill, and how to hold his readers under the spell of his magic." Boston Herald.
"The horses are all right; there's the own brother to the one that brought you here. But you may save yourself that job." "I'll not go before he's buried." "Yes, you will." "Not I, Colonel Sapt; not for all Ruritania." "You fool!" said he. "Come here." He drew me to the door. The moon was sinking, but about three hundred yards away, coming along the road from Zenda, I made out a party of men.
Neither Rupert nor Rischenheim, nor even the old woman fronted him: a tall, handsome, dark girl faced him, holding an oil-lamp in her hand. He did not know her, but I could have told him that she was old Mother Holf's youngest child, Rosa, for I had often seen her as I rode through the town of Zenda with the king, before the old lady moved her dwelling to Strelsau.
Yet we did not hesitate. Since disaster had come, it must be faced. Mr. Rassendyll's servant and I followed the constable of Zenda up to the door, or within a few feet of it. Here Sapt, who was in uniform, loosened his sword in its sheath; James and I looked to our revolvers. There were no lights visible in the lodge; the door was shut; everything was still.
Surely romance written in this way and we have not grossly exaggerated the way bears no relation to modern literature other than a chronological one. The Prisoner of Zenda and A Gentleman of France, to mention two happy and pleasing examples of this type of novel, are not modern in the sense that they express any deep feeling or any vital characteristic of to-day.
By Heaven, I wonder if a king was ever served so badly as I am! Why did you trouble to get me out of Zenda? Nobody wants me, nobody cares whether I live or die." To reason with such a mood was impossible. I could only assure him that I would hasten my return by all possible means. "Yes, pray do," said he. "I want somebody to look after me. Who knows what that villain Rupert may attempt against me?
The queen awaited the result of their deliberations in her apartments, ready to act as they directed, but determined to see Rudolf before he left the castle. They conversed together in low tones. Presently Sapt took paper and wrote. This first message was to me, and it bade me come to Zenda that afternoon; another head and another pair of hands were sadly needed.
Thus the scene was shifted from Strelsau to the chateau of Tarlenheim and Castle of Zenda, which frowned at us across the valley. I tried to shift my thoughts also, to forget my love, and to bend all my energies to the task before me. It was to get the King out of the Castle alive. Force was useless: in some trick lay the chance; and I had already an inkling of what we must do.
"The editor says the readers of the 'Treasure Chest' haven't got tired of 'Zenda' stories." And so Thyrsis spent the afternoon and evening wandering about in the park; and sometime after midnight he wrote out his scenario.
"Let her stay at Zenda and give out that the king is at the lodge for a day or two longer. Then you, Fritz for you must ride to the castle at once and Bernenstein must get to Strelsau as quick as you can, and find Rudolf Rassendyll. You three ought to be able to track young Rupert down and get the letter from him.
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