While they were hesitating as to whom they should address, an equestrian, who had already passed them on the road, though at some distance, came up, and inquired, in a voice which Vivian recognised as that of the messenger who had brought Beckendorff’s letter to Turriparva, whether he had the honour of addressing Mr. von Philipson. Neither of the gentlemen answered, for Vivian of course expected the Prince to reply; and his Highness was, as yet, so unused to his incognito, that he had actually forgotten his own name. But it was evident that the demandant had questioned rather from system than by way of security, and he waited patiently until the Prince had collected his senses and assumed sufficient gravity of countenance to inform the horseman that he was the person in question. “What, sir, is your pleasure?” “I am instructed to ride on before you, sir, that you may not mistake your way;” and without waiting for an answer the laconic messenger turned his steed’s head and trotted off. The travellers soon left the high road and turned up a wild turf path, not only inaccessible to carriages, but even requiring great attention from horsemen. After much winding and some floundering, they arrived at a light gate, which apparently opened into a shrubbery. “I will take your horses here, gentlemen,” said the guide; and getting off his horse, he opened the gate. “Follow this path, and you can meet with no difficulty.” The Prince and Vivian accordingly dismounted, and the guide immediately gave a loud shrill whistle.