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was laid out with winding, graveled walks, bordered by shrubs and flowers, with an occasional tree, some of which gave evidence of great age.

The young man’s mind, his eyes, his imagination were so fully occupied with his surroundings that he experienced a sensation almost akin to shock as he followed the turning of the path around a large ornamental shrub and came face to face with a young woman.

That she was equally surprised was evidenced by the consternation apparent in her expression as she looked wide-eyed into the eyes of von Harben. For quite an appreciable moment of time they stood looking at one another. Von Harben thought that never in his life had he seen so beautiful a girl. What the girl thought, von Harben did not know. It was she who broke the silence.

“Who are you?” she asked, in a voice little above a whisper, as one might conceivably address an apparition that had arisen suddenly and unexpectedly before him.

“I am a stranger here,” replied von Harben, “and I owe you an apology for intruding upon your privacy. I thought that I was alone in the garden.”

“Who are you?” repeated the girl. “I have never seen your face before or one like yours.”

“And I,” said von Harben, “have never seen a girl like you. Perhaps I am dreaming. Perhaps you do not exist at all, for it does not seem credible that in the world of realities such a one as you could exist.”

The girl blushed. “You are not of Castrum Mare,” she said. “That I can see.” Her tone was a trifle cold and slightly haughty.

“I have offended you,” said von Harben. “I ask your pardon. I did not mean to be offensive, but coming upon you so unexpectedly quite took my breath away.”

“And your manners, too?” asked the girl, but not her eyes were smiling.

“You have forgiven me?” asked von Harben.

“You will have to tell me who you are and why you are here before I can answer that,” she replied. “For all I know you might be an enemy or a barbarian.”