She turned impulsively to the doctor at her side, who, as though he had followed and shared the feeling which possessed her, pointed silently ahead to where the road, which had been running through a narrow gash in the hillside, turned abruptly and disclosed a tiny mountain valley, an offshoot of the one by which they had come. Constance caught her breath, for, indeed, it was beautiful.
Before her ran the road, climbing once more in two loops towards a large mound on which stood an antique castle. Battered and harsh, but set in the shadow of the fir trees, it lost in those surroundings all fierce suggestions, and stood as a pathetic reminder of the age of chivalry. Here on the smooth grass, on which the road lay coiled like the white neck of a swan, “ladies dead and lovely knights” had wa
