"You've got a charming travelling companion," he said. "That's poor Bert
Bertrand's goddess, Antoinette de Mauban, and, like you, she's going to
Dresden--also, no doubt, to see the pictures. It's very queer, though,
that she doesn't at present desire the honour of your acquaintance."

"I didn't ask to be introduced," I observed, a little annoyed.

"Well, I offered to bring you to her; but she said, 'Another time.'
Never mind, old fellow, perhaps there'll be a smash, and you'll have a
chance of rescuing her and cutting out the Duke of Strelsau!"

No smash, however, happened, either to me or to Madame de Mauban. I can
speak for her as confidently as for myself; for when, after a night's
rest in Dresden, I continued my journey, she got into the same train.
Understanding that she wished to be let alone, I avoided her carefully,
but I saw that she went the same way as I did to the very end of my
journey, and I took opportunities of having a good look at her, when I
could do so unobserved.

As soon as we reached the Ruritanian frontier (where the old officer who
presided over the Custom House favoured me with such a stare that I felt
surer than before of my Elphberg physiognomy), I bought the papers, and
found in them news which affected my movements. For some reason, which
was not clearly explained, and seemed to be something of a mystery, the
date of the coronation had been suddenly advanced, and the ceremony was
to take place on the next day but one. The whole country seemed in a
stir about it, and it was evident that Strelsau was thronged. Rooms were
all let and hotels overflowing; there would be very little chance of my
obtaining a lodging, and I should certainly have to pay an exorbitant