"I don't know any woman by the name of Hildegarde von Heideloff; on my
word of honor, Max, I don't."
"Old Bauer, the blacksmith, knew her."
Bauer? All my suspicions returned. "Describe the girl to me."
"Handsome figure, masses of black hair, great black eyes that are full
of good fun, a delicate nose, and I might add, a very kissable mouth."
"What! have you kissed her?" I exclaimed.
"No, no! Only, I'd like to."
"H'm! You've made quite a study. She must be visiting some one
near-by. There is an old castle three miles west of the smithy. Did
she speak English?"
"Yes,"--excitedly.
"That accounts for it. An old English nobleman lives over there during
the summer months, and it is not improbable that she is one of his
guests." In my heart I knew that her Highness was up to some of her
tricks again, but there was no need of her shattering good old Max's
heart. Yet I felt bound to say: "Why not look into the purse? There
might be something there to prove her identity."
"Look into her purse?"--horrified. "You wouldn't have me peeping into
a woman's purse, would you? Suppose there should be a box of rouge?
Her cheeks were red."
"Quite likely."
"Or a powder-puff."
"Even more likely."
"Or--"
"Go on."
"Or a love letter."
"I have my doubts," said I.
"Well, if you do not know who she is, I'll find out,"--undismayed.
Doubtless he would; he was a persistent old beggar, was Max.
"Do not let it get serious, my boy," I warned. "You could not marry
any one in this country."
"Why not?"
"Have you been regularly baptized? Was your father? Was your
grandfather? Unless you can answer these simplest of questions and
prove them, you could not get a license; and no priest or preacher
would dare marry you without a license."
"Hang you, who's talking about getting married? All I want to know is,
who is Hildegarde von Heideloff, and how am I to return her purse? I
shall ask the blacksmith."
"Do so,"--taking up my egg-spoon.
Max slipped the purse into his breast-pocket and sat down.