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Unwounded and vigorous, he gained on me at every step; but, forgetting everything in the world except him and my thirst for his blood, I pressed on, and soon the deep shades of the forest of Zenda engulfed us both, pursued and pursuer. It was three o'clock now, and day was dawning.
"Is that what brings you to Zenda, Prefect?" I asked. "Why no, sire; I am here because I desired to oblige the British Ambassador." "What's the British Ambassador doing dans cette galere?" said I, carelessly. "A young countryman of his, sire a man of some position is missing. His friends have not heard from him for two months, and there is reason to believe that he was last seen in Zenda."
Poor soul! I hope there may be nothing worse scored to my account. THE Constable of Zenda and James, Mr. Rassendyll's servant, sat at breakfast in the hunting-lodge. They were in the small room which was ordinarily used as the bedroom of the gentleman in attendance on the king: they chose it now because it commanded a view of the approach.
There were rumors that the king was ill; that the queen was angry at being carried off to Zenda; that the archbishop meant to preach against low dresses; that the chancellor was to be dismissed; that his daughter was to be married; and so forth. I heard without listening. But the last bit of his budget caught my wandering attention.
"There seems to me," I observed, "to be two ways by which the King can come out of Zenda alive. One is by treachery in the duke's followers." "You can leave that out," said Sapt. "I hope not," I rejoined, "because the other I was about to mention is by a miracle from heaven!" A Night Outside the Castle
We had entered the outskirts of the forest of Zenda, and the trees, closing in behind us as the track zigged and zagged, prevented us seeing our pursuers, and them from seeing us. Another half-hour brought us to a divide of the road. Sapt drew rein. "To the right is our road," he said. "To the left, to the Castle. Each about eight miles. Get down." "But they'll be on us!" I cried.
Well, yes, since you press me, a knife, too; but only if he uses one. You'll let Sapt know when you come?" "Yes; and I come the moment I can stand?" "As if you need tell me that, old fellow!" "Where do you go from the station?" "To Zenda, through the forest," he answered. "I shall reach the station about nine to-morrow night, Thursday.
Author of "The Prisoner of Zenda," "The Indiscretion of the Duchess," etc. With portrait and notice of the author. Narrow 16mo, buckram. 75 cents. "A highly clever performance, with little touches that recall both Balzac and Meredith. Mr. Hope, being disinclined to follow any of the beaten tracks of romance writing, is endowed with exceeding originality." New York Times.
Now disaster, or the danger of it, had come. The curt, mysterious telegram from Wintenberg, which told him so little, at least told him that. It ordered him and he did not know even whose the order was to delay Rischenheim's audience, or, if he could not, to get the king away from Zenda: why he was to act thus was not disclosed to him.
When the duke went to Zenda, she accompanied him; and here for the first time she learnt the full measure of his cruelty, and was touched with compassion for the unfortunate King. His triumph she did not desire, for she loathed his crime, and loathed yet more fiercely what would be the prize of it his marriage with his cousin, Princess Flavia.
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