"Dan!" was all I could say, bending over his hand to hide my tears.
"Jack, you are not sorry?"
"Dan, you are more to me than any woman in the world."
"Oh, say! You wouldn't--hold me up a bit higher; that's it--you
wouldn't have me hang on now, would you? I haven't anything to live
for, no matter how you put it. Home? I never had one. The only
regret I have in leaving is that the Prince will not keep me company.
Put an obol in my hand, and Charon will see me over the Styx.
"And when, like her, O Saki, you shall pass
Among the guests star-scattered on the grass,
And in your joyous errand, reach the spot
Where I made one--turn down an empty glass!
"Well, hang me, Jack, if you aren't crying! Then you thought more of
me than I believed; a man's tears mean more than a woman's. . . . A
man must die, and what is a year or two? How much better to fold the
tent when living becomes tasteless and the cup is full of lees! . . .
The Prince was a trifle cruel; but perhaps his hand trembled, too.
Innkeeper, you're a good fellow."
"Herr is a man of heart," said the grizzled veteran, sadly.
"Tell Jack how it happened," said Dan; "it hurts me."
On leaving me, Hillars and the innkeeper, after having taken a pair of
pistols, had mounted the cavalry horses despite the protests of the
owners, and had galloped away in pursuit of the Prince and Count von
Walden. They caught sight of them a mile or so ahead. They were
loping along at a fair speed. It took half an hour to bring the two
parties within speaking distance. Although the Prince and von Walden
heard them, they never turned around, but kept on straight ahead. This
made Hillars' choler rise, and he spurred forward.
"One moment, gentlemen," he cried. "I have a word with you."
They galloped on unheeding. When Hillars got in front of them they
merely veered to either side.
"Ah!" said Hillars, choking with rage. With a quick movement he bent
and caught the bridle of the Prince's horse. The Count, seeing that
the Prince was compelled to rein in, did likewise. The Prince looked
disdainful.
"Well, what is it?" asked Von Walden. "Speak quickly. Has your
scribbling friend run away with Her Highness?"
"My remarks, most noble and puissant Count," said Hillars, bowing,
satirically, to the neck of his horse, "I shall confine to the still
more noble and puissant Prince of Wortumborg."