The little procession moved out of the hut into the open sunshine, traversed the winding path, and came to the high road, where stood a covered carriage with drawn blinds. Wilfrid stepped into the vehicle, followed by the doctor only, who closed the door after him. It seemed that the eight men were not accompanying them, a fact that showed Beauvais’ faith in Wilfrid’s word of honour. The horses’ heads were set in the direction of St. Petersburg, and since the carriage moved off without turning round, Wilfrid concluded that he was being taken back to the city. After half an hour’s riding the sound of other vehicles blending with the hum of human voices convinced him that he had now reached the outskirts of the capital. Noting the slant of the sun’s rays as they came through the carriage windows he was of the opinion that the vehicle was going due west. If it continued in this direction long he would soon be out of the city again and in the district known as “The Islands,” or delta of the Neva, a region of groves and waters, adorned here and there with bungalows. These islands, left in winter to snow and wolves, become, in summer, flowering and leafy paradises, the favourite resort of the fashionable world of St. Petersburg. The coach stopped at last without having deviated much from its westerly course. Beauvais alighted, and Wilfrid following suit, found himself in a quiet spot upon the northern shore of the Neva, close to the water’s edge. Westwards, as far as the horizon, stretched an expanse of blue sea, the bay conducting to the island-fortress of Cronstadt, distant about eighteen miles. Southwards, and separated from them by a channel not more than a furlong wide, was a small isle consisting of green lawns and pine woods; and, rising prettily above them, a castle, built in true Gothic style. Wilfrid recognised the edifice in a moment as being the original of the needlework picture that hung in Pauline’s boudoir. He was casting eyes for the first time upon her island and Castle of Runö, the insular demesne that furnished her with the title of baroness. A real old feudal castle, with Pauline for its queen, would have been welcomed at any other time; but, as matters were then, Wilfrid was possessed by a feeling of bitterness towards its fair owner, for it scarcely admitted a doubt that he had been carried off by her orders. On her return from the masquerade she had learned from her father of the intended duel, and had planned this abduction for the purpose of preventing it. On the river bank, waiting for Beauvais and his companion, were two sturdy Finlanders in charge of a small rowing-boat. It would have been easy for Wilfrid to take to his heels; but, honouring his plighted word, he stepped with the doctor into the boat, was rowed across the channel, and was soon treading the green turf of Runö.