"Can't you ride astride?" whispered the Crown Prince as we passed through the semi-shadows of the Brandenburger Thor.
"What is that?" I asked, and somehow got the feeling that his question was not the correct thing. So I touched my horse with the spur and cantered away. Wilhelm joined me quickly. "Dog-trot now," he said, and we jogged along like Herr Director-General's family on their old brown mares.
After passing Castle Bellevue, promenaders became few and far between, and then the long-legged hunters increased the distance between ourselves and the rest of the party very considerably. Suddenly Wilhelm—he asked me to call him by his first name, but I always prefix his title—whispered: "Now, ventre à terre." Setting the example he jumped a hedge, I after him—a fine race we ran for the next ten minutes.
Then back to Bellevue. We galloped right through to the water's edge, and were half across the river before the stablemen had caught the horses.
Lieber Franz, you must excuse; I can't write a word more. Too tired and too excited. So good night for to-night and pleasant dreams.—Always your good sister,
BERTHA.
CHAPTER XII
THE FORTUNE TELLER SEES BERTHA IN A HAZE
OF BLOOD
Mother Zara Speaks—Ghosts of Infamy—What the Blackbird Foretold—The Crown Prince Stands Aloof
BERTHA to FRANZ.