"Yes, certainly," was the reply, with another forced laugh.
"Now, will you keep your word?" said the man in a meaning tone to me. "Or will you compel me ..." He did not finish the sentence.
"Oh, just as you like. Only I warn you it's all an infernal blunder," and with that I went with them.
At the bottom of the stairs I turned and looked up at the man for whom I was mistaken. He nodded and made signs to me as if thanking me, and urging me to keep up the deception.
I said not a word more, but went with the two men in dogged silence. When we reached the station, I flung myself into a corner of the railway carriage, my companions mounting guard over me, one at my side, the other in the opposite corner.
We travelled through the night, changing trains more than once—sometimes travelling at express speed, sometimes crawling, and now and again making long stops at junctions. I scarcely spoke, except to protest that it was all a fool's journey; and when the elder man attempted to talk to me, I stopped him peremptorily, saying that as a stranger I had not the least wish to learn anything of the family's affairs. I would not hear a word until we reached the castle.
There, however, a surprise awaited me that pierced the shell of my apathy in an instant, and filled me with a sudden longing to go on with the strange part for which my companions had thus cast me.
The greatest deference was shown to me on my arrival, and I was ushered into a large and lofty room, while the elder man went to inform the Prince of my arrival, the younger man remaining with me.
The castle was certainly magnificent; and I could not refrain from an intense wish that I were indeed the heir to such a glorious place and position. My thoughts slipped back to the old life that I had thrown away, contrasting it with the mockery of my stale, humdrum existence, and I asked myself what I would not give for such a career as I felt I could build out of the materials Fortune had now shovelled into my lap with this taunting munificence.
Then I saw from the window a young golden-haired girl, standing among the flower-beds. She was dressed all in black, the exquisitely beautiful and regular features set and saddened with an expression of profound grief and melancholy. She was holding some freshly plucked roses in her hand, and after she had plucked one or two others a serving-maid approached and said something to her; and she turned and looked toward the window at which I stood. Probably mere curiosity was the motive, but to me it seemed as if the look were instinct with anxiety, doubt, and appeal.