The Princess Dehra

At first, the Duke had kept to the seclusion of his domain, vast and wild enough to let him ride all day without crossing its boundary. Still, after a time, he came into the low-lands at intervals, with a companion or two, choosing the main highways and occasionally dallying at some cross-road smithy for a word of gossip with those around the forge. Lotzen was not alone in his exile; he might be banished from the Capital, but that was no reason for denying himself all its pleasures.

The lights burned late at the Castle, and when the wind was from the North, it sprinkled the valley with whisps of music and strands of laughter. And the countryside shook its head and marvelled at the turning of night into day, and at people who seemed never to sleep except when others worked; and not much even then, if the tales of such of the servants as belonged to the locality were to be believed. And the revelry waxed louder and wilder as the days passed. Many times toward evening, the whole company would come plunging down the mountain and, with the great dogs baying before them, racing through the valleys and back again to the Castle as though some fiend were hot on their trail or they were on his.

And ever beside the Duke, on a great, black horse, went the same slender and sinuous woman with raven hair and dead-white cheek; a feather touch on the rein, a careless grace in the saddle. And as they rode, the Duke watched her with glowing eyes, and his cold face warmed with his thoughts. He would speak to her earnestly and persuasively, and she, swaying toward him, would answer softly and with an irresistible smile. Then, one day, she refused to ride.