“I suppose he has Arab blood in him,” said he, half contemptuously; “but he's forty years old now if he's a day. What they keep him for I don't know, but they make as much work about him as if he was a Christian; and as for myself, I have nothing else to do than walk him twice a day to his exercise, and take care that his oats are well bruised and mixed with linseed, for he hasn't a tooth left.” “I suppose his master is some very rich man, who can afford himself a caprice like this.” “For the matter of money, he has enough of it. He is the Prince Ernest Maximilian of Wurtemberg, and, except the Emperor, has the best stable in all Paris. But I don't think that _he_ cares much for the old horse; it's the _Princess_ likes him, and she constantly drives out to the wood here, and when we come to a quiet spot, where there are no strangers, she makes me take off all the body-clothes and the hood, and she 'll get out of the carriage and pat him. And he knows her, that he does! and lifts up that old leg of his when she comes towards him, and tries to whinny too. But here she comes now, and it won't do if I 'm seen talking to you; so just drop behind, sir, and never notice me.” I crossed the road, and had but reached the opposite pathway, when a carriage stopped, and the old horse drew up beside it. After a word or two, the groom took off the hood, and there was Blondel! But my amazement was lost in the greater shock that the Princess, whose jewelled hand held out the sugar to him, was no other than Catinka! I cannot say with what motive I was impelled,--perhaps the action was too quick for either,--but I drew nigh to the carriage, and, raising my hat respectfully, asked if her highness would deign to remember an old acquaintance. “I am unfortunate enough, sir, not to be able to recall you,” said she, in the most perfect Parisian French. “My name you may have forgotten, madam, but scarcely so either our first meeting at Schaffhausen, or our last at Bregenz.” “These are all riddles to me, sir; and I am sure you are too well bred to persist in an error after you have recognized it to be such.” With a cold smile and a haughty bow, she motioned the coachman to drive on, and I saw her no more. Stung to the very quick, but yet not without a misgiving that I might be possibly mistaken, I hurried to the police department, where the list of strangers was preserved. By sending in my card I was admitted to see one of the chiefs of the department, who politely informed me that the princess was totally unknown as to family, and not included in the Gotha Almanack. “May I ask,” said he, as I prepared to retire, “if this letter here--it has been with us for more than a year--is for your address? It came with an enclosure covering any possible expense in reaching your address, and has lain here ever since.” “Yes,” said I, “my name is Algernon Sydney Potts.”