CHAPTER XIX

* * * * * We had ridden up in the morning to a great plateau towering high above the rear of the castle for a picnic among the blue poppies and wild primulas, a place commanding a tremendous view up the magnificent ravine, which was apparently closed at the upper end by a mountain flinging its crest into the skies, looking six miles distant and in reality sixty—a ravine of as difficult traveling as any in the world. But up the winding track to the plateau all was easy, and the flowers at…