They rode swiftly for another mile, silence being unbroken between them.  She was trying to reconcile her pride to the justice of his command.

“I daresay you are right, Mr. Chase,” she said at last, quite frankly.  “I thank you.”

“I am glad that you understand,” he said simply.  His gaze was set straight before him, keen, alert, anxious.  They were riding through a dark stretch of forest; the foliage came down almost to their faces; there was an almost impenetrable green wall on either side of them.  He knew, and she was beginning to suspect, that danger lurked in the peaceful, sweet-smelling shades.

“I begin to fear, Mr. Chase,” she said, with a faint smile, “that Lady Deppingham deceived me in suggesting Japat as a rest cure.  It may interest you to know that the court at Rapp-Thorberg has been very gay this winter.  Much has happened in the past few months.”

“I know,” he said briefly, almost bitterly.

“My brother, Christobal, has been with us after two years’ absence.  He came with his wife from the ends of the earth, and my father forgave him in good earnest.  Christobal was very disobedient in the old days.  He refused to marry the girl my father chose for him.  Was it not foolish of him?”

“Not if it has turned out well in the end.”

“I daresay it has—­or will.  She is delightful.  My father loves her.  And my father—­the Grand Duke, I should say—­does not love those who cross him.  One is very fortunate to have been born a prince.”  He thought he detected a note of bitterness in this raillery.

“I can conceive of no greater fortune than to have been born Prince Karl of Brabetz,” he said lightly.  She flashed a quick glance at his face, her eyes narrowing in the effort to divine his humour.  He saw the cloud which fell over her face and was suddenly silent, contrite for some unaccountable reason.

“As I was saying,” she resumed, after a moment, “Lady Deppingham has lured me from sunshowers into the tempest.  Mr. Chase,” and her face was suddenly full of real concern, “is there truly great danger?”

“I fear so,” he answered.  “It is only a question of time.  I have tried to check this uprising, but I’ve failed.  They don’t trust me.  Last night Von Blitz, Rasula and three others came to the bungalow and coolly informed me that my services were no longer required.  I told them to—­to go to—­”

“I understand,” she said quickly.  “It required courage to tell them that.”  He smiled.

“They protested friendship, but I can read very well as I run.  But can’t we find something more agreeable to talk about?  May I say that I have not seen a newspaper in three months?  The world has forgotten me.  There must be news that you can give me.  I am hungry for it.”

“You poor man!  No newspapers!  Then you don’t know what has happened in all these months?”

“Nothing since before Christmas.  Would you like to see a bit of news that I clipped from the last Paris paper that came into my hands?”