At ten o'clock the slender moon dropped behind the mountain, and
the valley, which had been touched with its tender light,
gradually took on the somberness and stillness of a star-lit
night. The town slumbered at eleven, and there were few lights
to be seen in the streets or in the houses. Here and there
strolled the white-uniformed police guards; occasionally
soldiers hurried barracksward; now and then belated citizens
moved through the dense shadows on the sidewalks, but the
Americans saw still life in its reality. Returning from their
stroll beside the castle-walls, far to the west of where they
had entered the grounds that afternoon, they paused in the
middle of Castle Avenue, near the main gate, and looked down the
dark, deserted street, Far away could be seen the faint glare
from their hotel; one or two street-lamps burned in the business
part of the city; aside from these evidences of life there was
nothing but darkness, silence, peacefulness about them
everywhere.

"Think of Paris or New York at eleven o'clock," said Lorry, a
trifle awed by the solitude of the sleeping city.

"It's as dead as a piece of prairie-land," said his friend.
"'Gad, it makes me sleepy to look down that street. It's a mile
to the hotel, too, Lorry. We'd better move along."

"Let's lie down near the hedge, smoke another cigar and wait
till midnight. It is too glorious a night to be lost in sleep,"
urged Lorry, whose heart was light over the joys of the day to
come. "I can dream just as well here, looking at that dark old
castle with its one little tower-light, as I could if I tried to