Prior to this day’s experiences, Wright had always entertained a deep-rooted conviction that Lord Cyril’s horsemanship was far inferior to that of his brother, both as regarded skill and endurance; but now he was compelled to admit that he rode “like a Trojan,” whatever that vague but evidently expressive comparison might mean. With short halts for food and change of horses, they rode on hour after hour, being handed over by their first guide to a second, and so on at every stage, and arriving at Schloss Herzensruh late at night. Cyril found himself intrusted to the care of the master of the household, who treated him with breathless consideration, and intimated that he would be admitted in the morning to an intensely private and confidential interview with King Johann, and be allowed to depart early, so as to avoid comment. The King of Mœsia had not Cyril’s reasons for desiring an unauthorised publicity for the object of his errand, and the envoy congratulated himself that he had not trusted to the enterprise of Mœsian journalists. Morning came, and Cyril was conducted with extreme precaution to the King’s private room, where there was a secretary on guard at the door, and a stalwart gamekeeper outside the window. Secrecy having been ensured by this means, King Johann greeted his guest with delight, and proceeded to lay bare to him his mind and the state of feeling in his kingdom far more thoroughly than he had any idea of doing. The impression that he produced on Cyril was that of a fussy, nervous man, half elated by the fact of his having emancipated himself from his wife’s control, and half afraid of the consequences. Throughout their married life it had always been his custom to follow her advice, and his kingdom had flourished exceedingly, until a few months before, when the little rift within the lute had originated in the double question of the marriage of Princess Ottilie, the only child of the royal couple, and the succession to the crown. The constitution of Mœsia did not allow a female to occupy the throne, and there was therefore no question of the Princess’s bringing that perilous dowry to her future husband; but while her mother wished her to marry the Prince of Dardania, a distant connection of her own, the King was prepared to allow her to marry any one else, but not the Prince. The reason for this difference of opinion was to be found in the fact that there was a strong party, both in the Mœsian Legislature and in the country, who desired the selection of Prince Alexis as their future ruler, anticipating that, when united with Dardania, the kingdom of Mœsia would be strong enough to strike awe even into her triumphant rival Thracia. The members of this party were most anxious for the marriage, and the Queen supported them with the calm determination which had always hitherto had its due weight with her more hasty husband; but some time after the affair had been considered as