the peasants asked leave to lend me a cap or to run back and find the
one I had presumably lost.

One night the delectable adventure for which I was always seeking came
my way, and I was wholly unprepared for it.

I had taken the south highway: that which seeks the valley beyond the
lake. The moon-film lay mistily upon everything: on the far-off lake,
on the great upheavals of stone and glacier above me, on the long white
road that stretched out before me, ribbon-wise. High up the snow on
the mountains resembled huge opals set in amethyst. I was easily
twenty-five miles from the city; that is to say, I had been in the
saddle some six hours. Nobody but a king's messenger will ride a horse
more than five miles an hour. I cast about for a place to spend the
night. There was no tavern in sight, and the hovels I had passed
during the last hour offered no shelter for my horse. Suddenly, around
a bend in the road, I saw the haven I was seeking. It was a rambling,
tottering old castle, standing in the center of a cluster of firs; and
the tiles of the roofs and the ivy of the towers were shining silver
with the heavy fall of dew.

Lady Chloe sniffed her kind, whinnied, and broke into a trot. She knew
sooner than I that there was life beyond the turn. We rode up to the
gate, and I dismounted and stretched myself. I tried the gate. The
lock hung loose, like a paralytic hand. Evidently those inside had
nothing to fear from those outside. I grasped an iron bar and pushed
in the gate, Chloe following knowingly at my heels. I could feel the
crumbling rust on my gloves. Chloe whinnied again, and there came an
answering whinny from somewhere in the rear of the castle. Somebody
must be inside, I reasoned.