The next day, while riding along a secluded bridle path some miles from Dornlitz, I came upon a woman leading a badly-limping horse.  She was alone,—­no groom in sight,—­and drawing rein I dismounted and asked if I could be of service.  Then I saw her face, and stepped back in surprise.  Her pictures were too plentiful in the capital for me to make mistake.  It was the Princess Dehra.

I bowed low.  “Your Royal Highness’s pardon,” I said.  “I did not mean to presume.”

She measured me in a glance.  “Indeed, you are most opportune,” she said, with a frank smile.  “I have lost the groom,—­his horse was too slow,—­and I’ve been punished by Lotta picking a stone I cannot remove.”

CONCERNING ANCESTORS 25

“By your leave,” I said, and lifted the mare’s hoof.  Pressing back the frog I drew out the lump of sharp gravel.

“It looks so easy,” she said.

“It was paining her exceedingly, but she is all right now.”

“Then I may mount?”

I bowed.

“Without hurting Lotta?” she asked.

I turned the mare about and dropped my hand into position.  For a moment she hesitated.  Then there was the swish of a riding skirt, the glint of a patent-leather boot, an arched foot in my palm, and without an ounce of lift from me she was in the saddle.

I stepped back and raised my hat.

She gathered the reins slowly; then bent and patted the mare’s neck.

I made no move.

“I am waiting,” she said presently, with a quick glance my way.

“I do not see the groom,” said I, looking back along the road.

She gave a little laugh.  “You won’t,” she said.  “He thinks I went another way.”

“Then Your Highness means——­”

“You do not look so stupid,” she remarked.

“Sometimes men’s looks are deceiving.”

“Then, sir, Her Highness means she is waiting for you to mount,” she said, very graciously.

“As her groom?” I asked.

“As anything you choose, so long as you ride beside me to the hill above the Park.”

I took saddle at the vault and we trotted away.

“Why did you make me ask for your attendance?” she demanded.

“Because I dared not offer it.”

“Another deception in your looks,” she replied.

I laughed.  She had evened up.

“You are a soldier—­an American officer?” she said suddenly.

“Your Highness has guessed most shrewdly,” I answered, in surprise.

“Are you staying at the Embassy?” she asked.

“No,” said I.  “I am not on the staff.  I am only a bird of passage.”

“Do you know General Russell?”

“My father knew him, I believe,” I answered, evasively, and turned the talk into less personal matters.

When we reached the hill I drew rein.  Down in the valley lay the Summer Palace and the gates of the Park were but a few hundred yards below us.  I dismounted to say good-bye.