I told her I was now working at the schloss.

"I heard the Countess had an English lady to help her speak the language," she said.

"I am she," I answered.

"Well, do you enjoy it?"

"Very much," I replied. "The Countess is charming."

"She is popular and so is the Baron. It wouldn't surprise me if they put forward the marriage. It depends, I suppose, on the Grand Duke. If he recovers his health things will go on just as before, I suppose."

I agreed and said I found the forest enchanting.

"Our forests are famous in legend and song," she answered. "They say all sorts of things can happen there. Trolls, goblins, giants and the gods of old ... some reckon they're still there ... and some people have the power to see them."

"It must be rather eerie living in the heart of it. I passed a place today."

"Was it the lodge?"

"Yes, I did see the lodge, but I was thinking of a house ... a small one in the forest ... near the lodge. I wondered who lives there."

"Oh, I know where you mean. That would be the Schwartzes' place."

"I did see someone there. I asked her the way."

"That must have been Katia."

"Has she a little boy?"

"Yes. Rudolph."

"Does her husband work for one of the schloss families?"

"There isn't a husband." On ... I see.

"Poor Katia. She had rather a bad time."

"That's sad. She seemed so very pleasant. I thought her charming, in fact."

"Yes she is. Life was cruel to her, though. But she has the boy and she dotes on him. He's a nice little fellow."

"I did notice a child. Would he be about four or five?"

"Yes, I suppose it must have been all those years ago. Rather a mystery really."

"Oh?"

"Well, who can say what happens in these cases. It seems a bit unlucky ... that part of the forest ... considering what happened at the lodge."

"You mean the murder?"

"Yes. That was terrible, that was. Some say it was jealousy, but I never believed that. It was someone who wanted Rudolph out of the way so that Sigmund could step into his shoes."

"You don't mean that Sigmund—"

"Oh—hush! I'd say it's all a mystery ... and long ago now. Best forgotten. They tell me Sigmund has the makings of a fine Duke. He's strong and that's what we want. Listen." She cocked her head on one side. "I expect they're coming this way."

"Who?"

"The Graf and the Grafin with Sigmund and the Countess. I heard they'd been visiting the Grand Duke this afternoon. Sigmund will be escorting them back to the schloss. I'll pop out and watch."

"May I come with you?"

"But of course."

I stood with her and others crowded in the inn doorway, and my heart leaped with pride and fear as I watched him.

He looked magnificent on his white horse, acknowledging the cheers of the people as he rode. And beside him was Freya, looking pink-cheeked, bright-eyed and very pretty. It was clear that the people liked her.

"Little duck," I heard someone say. "She's a charmer, isn't she?"

Then came the Graf and Grafin with Gunther and Tatiana. There were a few guards riding with them, colourful in blue and brown uniform with blue feathers in their silver helmets.

As I stood and watched, the hopelessness of my situation was borne home to me afresh, and I could see that there would be no real place for me in Sigmund's life. I would be his mistress, to be hidden away ... to wait for those days which he could spare for me. And if there were children— what of them?

How could I do this? I must go away.

Oh Francine, I thought, was it like this with you?

When I arrived in my room one of the footmen was standing at my door.

He said: "I have a note for you, Fraulein. I was told to deliver it into no other hands but yours."

"Thank you," I said, taking it.

He bowed and departed.

I knew before I opened it who had sent it. It was written on blue tinted paper with the crest of the lions and crossed swords which I had seen before.

"My dearest," he had written in English, and then:

I must see you. I want to talk to you. It is unendurable that you should be so near and yet away from me. I cannot wait for tomorrow. I want to see you tonight. There is an inn just below the schloss. It is called The King of the Forest. Come there. I shall be waiting. Please. I shall expect you at nine. You will have dined then and can slip away.

C.

The King of the Forest. I had seen it. It was very close to the schloss gates. Could I do it? I supposed so. I could plead a headache, retire early and slip out. It would be unwise. It would be as it had been at the Grange. I must not go. Yet I thought of his waiting there. He would be so wretched. People like Conrad and Freya were used to having everything their way. They would have to learn that it could not always be so. And yet... I wanted to go.

But I must not, I admonished myself. Yet it was not possible to get a message to him. How could I ask someone to take a note to Baron Sigmund!

No. I decided I must go, and I must make him realize that I could not see him any more. I must leave the schloss. Suppose I went back to Daisy. That was not far enough. He would seek me out there. No. I would go and see him and explain that we must not meet again.

I managed to get away quite easily. Freya was a little absentminded. She had enjoyed riding through the streets with Sigmund and she had obviously been gratified by the cheering crowds. When I said I should like to retire early because of a headache she just said, "Have a good night's sleep then, Anne. Perhaps I'll go early, too."

So I was able to slip out without much trouble.

He was looking out for me and before I reached the inn he had joined me. He was in a dark cloak and black hat like any travelling businessman, but although I had seen many men dressed exactly like that, nothing could prevent his looking distinguished.

He held my arm tightly and said: "I have engaged a room where we shall not be disturbed."

"I have come to tell you that I must go away," I said.

He did not answer, but pressed my arm more tightly to his side.

We went into the inn and up a back staircase. I thought, This is the way it will always be—always in the shadows. And suddenly I did not care. I loved him and I knew I should never be happy away from him. What was the old Spanish proverb? "Take what you want," said God. "Take it ... and pay for it."

It was a small room but the candlelight threw a pleasant glow over it, touching it with a romantic aura; but perhaps I felt that because I was here with him alone.

He pushed back the hood of my cloak and pulled the pins out of my hair and unruly as ever, it easily escaped.

"Pippa," he murmured, "at last. I have been thinking of you ... dreaming of you ... and now you are here."

"I must not stay," I began. "I just came to tell you—"

He smiled at me and took off my cloak.

"No," I said, trying to sound firm.

"But yes," he answered. "This is meant, you know. You can't escape it. Oh, Pippa, you have come back to me ... never to be parted again."

"I have to go," I insisted. "I should never have come. I thought you wanted to talk to me."

"I want everything," he replied.

"Listen," I went on. "We have to be sensible. It is different now. That other time I did not know who you were. I was carried away. I was quite innocent ... inexperienced. I had never had a lover. I thought we should be married and live ... as married people do. I was as guileless as that. It is all different now. This is wrong and I know it is."

"My darling, these conventions are made for the convenience of society—"

I interrupted: "That is not all. There is Freya. I have grown fond of her. What would she think if she saw us now? It is wrong—dreadfully wrong. And I must go."

"I shall not allow it."

"It is for me to decide."

"You can never be so cruel."

"I understand that I am still naive and that you must have been in many similar situations."

"I have never loved until now," he said. "Isn't that good enough?"

"Is it really true?"

"I swear it. Now and forever I love you—and you only."

"How can you know what you will feel in the future?"

"As soon as I saw you I knew. Didn't you?"

I hesitated and then I said: "Perhaps for me I knew it would be so, but for you it would be different. If I went away you would forget me."

"Never."

"There would be so many in your life to compensate for any loss you might feel because one woman rejected you."

"You won't understand. If it were just for myself, I would be ready to throw everything aside."

"All the shouting and the cheering. It means something to you. I watched you. I was on the porch of an inn when you rode by with Freya. I saw you. How you smiled. How you pleased the people, both of you, and I know how they pleased you. It is something you do very well because it means so much to you."

"I have been brought up to it in a way," he admitted. "But I never thought all this would come to me because of Rudolph. I was just a branch from the tree. If Rudolph had lived— But, my dearest, what of that? Let us make what we can of life."

"No. I must go. I shall return to England. I think it is the best way. I shall go to my Aunt Grace and try—"

He had thrown my cloak aside and his arms were about me.

"Pippa," he said, "I love you and the time is short—for now. But we are going to be together through the years."

"And your life ... and Freya's ... ?"

"I will work something out. Please, my darling ... let us be happy ... now."

My lips said no, but the rest of my body cried, Yes, yes. He was irresistible to me and he knew it and I knew it.

There is no excuse. I make none. We were just carried away by the force of our passion. Neither of us could think beyond the fact that we were alone together in this room.

And it was as it had been at the Grange. There was nothing else but our love and our need of each other. I could hold out no longer and I lay in his arms half tearful, half laughing, ecstatically happy and pushing away the cloud of guilt and apprehension which would eventually settle on me.

Then I was lying quietly with his arms about me and he was tracing his fingers over my face as a blind man does.

"I want to know every part of you so intimately that it is part of myself," he murmured. "I must carry the memory of you when I am not with you. I have already found a home for us. Not far from the town ... in the forest ... a delightful little house which we shall make our own."

I was brought to earth suddenly from the Olympian heights by a vision of the hunting lodge—dark, gloomy, haunted by ghosts.

"It is on the west side of the town," he went on. He meant that the town would be between us and the hunting lodge. "I will show it to you and we shall make it our home. I shall be there every possible moment. Pippa, I would to God it could be different."

"I will never do it," I said. "I cannot. I am filled with shame. Can you imagine what is like being with that child ... that dear innocent child. I have grown to love her... ."

"I am the one you love, remember?" he reminded me. "No-one must stand in the way of that."

"But I cannot stay with Freya ... after this."

"Then come to our home in the forest."

"I must think about it. I cannot decide. I cannot imagine what I could say to her. What would her feelings be? She will be your wife. I shall be your mistress."

"It is not like that," he said.

"How else can it be described? I don't think I can do it. Not with Freya. Even now I feel despicable. The other day when she was feeling particularly affectionate she kissed me ... and I returned her kiss. The horror swept over me. I was posing as her friend when all the time I was betraying her. I thought: This is the kiss of Judas. No. No, it would be better if I went home. I could go to my Aunt Grace, I could look round and make a new life ... perhaps somewhere well away from Greystone Manor."

"You are staying here. I shall not allow you to go."

"I am free. Remember that."

"No one is free when he or she loves. You are shackled too, my darling. For the rest of our lives we belong together. Accept that, and you will see that it is the only way."