“Like a fairy palace,” she commented.
“Yes, it is,” he replied. “Quite a show place, built half upon, half inside the rock, I am told. Most romantic, but singularly out of the way in these regions. It seems sheer waste. But then the Count, no doubt, is a man of peculiar ideas.”
His last remark was half a question, but the girl did not answer it. He was not exactly sorry to notice that her interest in Rozsnyo and its owner did not seem to be altogether of an agreeable nature.
They turned and walked on. She was busy with her thoughts now, he could see; and he forebore to interrupt them. As they turned into one of the broad glades that intersected the forest, he said:
“This is an afternoon of surprises after my week’s solitude. Who comes here?”
The girl’s look followed his. A few hundred yards away, coming towards them at a leisurely trot, was a horseman.
As they and the rider drew nearer, an idea struck Von Tressen.
“I wonder if by any chance this is the man we have been speaking of—Count Zarka?”
He was quite within recognizable distance now. But it seemed from her absence of curiosity—for she kept her eyes from the advancing figure—that Fräulein Harlberg had known him at once.
“Yes it is,” she answered curtly.