There were gigantic rock statues, and watch-towers for gnomes to warn old-time gnome populations, perhaps, when their enemies, the cave-dwellers, were coming that way from a mammoth-hunt; and there was a wonderful grotto, fitted with doors and windows, a grotto whose occupants must surely have inherited the mansion from their ancestors, the cave-dwellers.  Every step of the way History, gaunt and war-stained, stalked beside us, followed hot-foot by his foster-mother, Legend; and the first stories of the one and the last stories of the other were tangled inextricably together.

Legend and history were alike in one regard; both told of brave men and beautiful women; and the people we met as we drove, looked worthy of their forebears who had fought and suffered for religion and independence, in this strange, rock-walled corridor, shared with fairies and gnomes.  The men were tall, with great bold, good-natured eyes and apple-red cheeks, to which their indigo blouses gave full value.  The women were of gentle mien, with soft glances; and the children were even more attractive than their elders.  Tiny girls, like walking dolls, with dresses to the ground, bobbed us curtseys; and sturdy little boys, curled up beside ancient grandfathers, in carts with old boots protecting the brakes, saluted like miniature soldiers, or pulled off their quaint round caps, as they stared in big-eyed wonder at our grand, blue car.  For them we were prince and princess, not chauffeur and maid.

Sometimes our road through the gorge climbed high above the rushing green river, and ran along a narrow shelf overhanging the ravine, but clear of snow and ice; sometimes it plunged down the mountain-side as if on purpose to let us hear the music of the water; and one of these sudden swoops downward brought us in sight of a chateau so enchanting and so evidently enchanted, that I was sure a fairy’s wand had waved for its creation, perhaps only a moment before.  When we were gone, it would disappear again, and the fairy would flash down under the translucent water, laughing, as she sent up a spray of emeralds and pearls.

“Of course, it isn’t real!” I exclaimed.  “But do let’s stop, because such a knightly castle wouldn’t be rude enough to vanish right before our eyes.”

“No, it won’t vanish, because it’s a most courteous little castle, which has been well brought up, and even though its greatness is gone, tries to live up to its traditions,” said Jack.  “It always appears to everyone it thinks likely to appreciate it; and I was certain it would be here in its place to welcome you.”