Hillars and I stood in the middle of the road. He held the binoculars.
"How many can you make out?" I asked.
"Four; all on horseback. There's a coach of some sort following on
behind. But everything is blurred and my hand trembles; the whiskey
here is terrible. Here, look for yourself," handing the glasses to me.
"Tell me what you see."
"There's one with a white cap--ah, it is Count von Walden! There are
two soldiers in the Hohenphalian uniform; cavalry. I do not know who
the fourth fellow is."
"Describe him to me," said Hillars, trying to roll a cigarette with his
trembling fingers. "Curse it!" throwing away the rice paper, "I've got
so bad that I can't roll a cigarette. Well, what's he look like?"
"He's in civilian dress; little black mustache and an imperial."
"Look anything like Napoleon III?"
"You've hit it. Who is he?"
"They say he's Prince Ernst of Wortumborg," said Hillars; "but it is my
opinion that he's the devil on a furlough."
"Then he is the man--" I began.
"He is. Your love affair is all over once he gets here; unless--" Dan
looked at the sky as though he was undecided about the weather.
"Unless what?" I asked.
"O, just unless," said he. "I'd give 5 pounds for a glass of home-made
whiskey."
"You've got a plan of some sort," said I. "Speak it out."
"It wasn't a plan; it was just an idea. It's gone now. Maybe it will
come back later. Are you going to stay here, or come with me and
tackle a bottle of the innkeeper's Rhine wine? The German vinegar used
to make you hilarious."
"What's the coach for?" I asked. "Are they going to carry us off like
a couple of chickens?"
"I presume it is for her Serene Highness. I wonder how they found out
she was here? Probably the lieutenant you were going to fight, but
didn't, informed them. At any rate, the coach will not be for us. The
Prince will not bother with you and me while the Princess is here. I
don't know what they will do with us; possibly nothing, possibly put us
in jail. Come along; I'm thirsty."
It was late in the afternoon of the day following. I had not seen her
Serene Highness, the Princess Hildegarde--Gretchen. She had remained
in her room, and all efforts of mine to hold communication with her had
proved futile. I had stood at her door and supplicated; she had told
me to go away. The innkeeper had scowled when I suggested that he
carry a note to his mistress. He had refused.