She wore a white gown, and her hair was loosely gathered in a knot.

She kissed her hand to me, crying: "Bring the King up, Helga; I'll give him some coffee." The countess, with a gay glance, led the way, and took me into Flavia's morning-room.

And, left alone, we greeted one another as lovers are wont.

Then the princess laid two letters before me.

One was from Black Michael--a most courteous request that she would honour him by spending a day at his Castle of Zenda, as had been her custom once a year in the summer, when the place and its gardens were in the height of their great beauty.