SOPHY OF KRAVONIA
trotting, now. The road rose steeply; it was loose and founderous from heavy rain; great stones lay about, dangerous traps for a careless rider. The horses labored. At the same moment, with the same instinct, Markart and the stranger dismounted. The next three miles were done on foot, and there before them, in deeper black, rose the gate -tower of the Castle of Praslok. The stranger had fallen a little behind again; now he drew level. They were almost opposite the Castle.
A dog barked from the stables. Another answered from the Castle. Two more took up the tune from the stables; the Castle guardian redoubled his responsive efforts. A man came running out from the stables with a lantern; a light flashed in the doorway of the Castle. Both Markart and the stranger came to a stand-still. The man with the lantern raised it high in the air, to see the faces of the travellers.
They saw each other's faces, too. The first result was to send them into a fit of laughter a relief from tension, a recognition of the absurdity into which their diplomatic caution had led them.
"By the powers, Captain Markart!"
"Monsieur Zerkovitch, by Heaven!"
They laughed again.
"Ah, and we might have had a pleasant ride together!"
"I should have rejoiced in the solace of your conversation!"
But neither asked the other why he had behaved in such a ridiculous manner.
"And our destination is the same?" asked Zerkovitch. "You stop here at the Castle?"
"Yes, yes, Monsieur Zerkovitch. And you?"
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