THE WANDERER WITHIN a certain forest was a Castle, hidden tolerably deep within it. It lay not many miles from the Castle of Belisle, which stood upon an eminence. Though hidden from it by the surrounding trees the dwellers at Belisle knew of its existence. It was named, so I have heard, Castle Syrtes. It had a somewhat unwholesome reputation; it has also been termed magical in an evil manner. You came upon it by tortuous paths through the forest, the outskirts of which were slushy and boggy to the feet. Having passed the outskirts you could find paths in plenty. Despite their tortuous winding they led eventually to the Castle. Outwardly pleasing to the eye, built of a reddish stone brought from no man knew where, the interior pleased the senses no less. Here were marble halls, shaded bowers, silken curtains, pictures very subtly painted, rare curios brought from home and lands beyond the seas. Flowers within and without, many-coloured and full-perfumed, lent a sweet and somewhat heavy scent to the atmosphere. It was never wind-lifted. The winds, which at times blew freely on the outskirts of the forest, brought no cleansing breath to the interior. Perchance the trees grew too thickly to allow of it passing between their branches; perchance there was some deeper reason. For that you may make what judgment you choose. My part is to set forth facts as I know them. Within the Castle dwelt a woman named Thaïs. To my thinking she had been better named Venus or Aphrodite. Failing either of those names Thaïs suits her not ill-well. She did not dwell alone; solitude would have been by no means to her liking. Guests she had in plenty, and they fared very luxuriously at her hands. The days were passed in feasting and pleasure; song, music, and wine lent good aid thereto. In brief the existence was one of exceeding soft luxury. At times a guest wearied of the pastimes, found them over sweet to his taste. Such a one was known now and again to leave the Castle; but I have heard it given as fact, which fact may be noteworthy, that he found the return through the forest more wearisome than the approach. Thorns and brambles, which stood aside to let him pass on entrance, hedged his path sadly on departure. Perchance herein lay its reputation for evil-magic. Certain it is the forest was strange, very dark, and full of a sweet sickly odour. No fresh-scented flowers grew there, such as one may find in open meadows and cool breeze-swept woods, but curious orchids, spotted and twisted, reptile-like in colour and form. Also no song-birds penetrated to its depths, misliking the darkness. What brought Peregrine thither I know not, seeing he had at the first wandered many a day’s march from Belisle. Possibly he circled thereto unheeding his route, knowing not he was returning on his own traces.