Otto entered a chamber occupying the greater part of the ground-
floor of the building. It had probably once been divided; for the
farther end was raised by a long step above the nearer, and the
blazing fire and the white supper-table seemed to stand upon a dais.
All around were dark, brass-mounted cabinets and cupboards; dark
shelves carrying ancient country crockery; guns and antlers and
broadside ballads on the wall; a tall old clock with roses on the
dial; and down in one corner the comfortable promise of a wine
barrel. It was homely, elegant, and quaint.

A powerful youth hurried out to attend on the grey mare; and when
Mr. Killian Gottesheim had presented him to his daughter Ottilia,
Otto followed to the stable as became, not perhaps the Prince, but
the good horseman. When he returned, a smoking omelette and some
slices of home-cured ham were waiting him; these were followed by a
ragout and a cheese; and it was not until his guest had entirely
satisfied his hunger, and the whole party drew about the fire over
the wine jug, that Killian Gottesheim's elaborate courtesy permitted
him to address a question to the Prince.

'You have perhaps ridden far, sir?' he inquired.

'I have, as you say, ridden far,' replied Otto; 'and, as you have
seen, I was prepared to do justice to your daughters cookery.'

'Possibly, sir, from the direction of Brandenau?' continued Killian.

'Precisely: and I should have slept to-night, had I not wandered, in
Mittwalden,' answered the Prince, weaving in a patch of truth,
according to the habit of all liars.