A flicker--but only a flicker--of admiration lighted the duke's eyes.
It was a plucky little baggage.
"I will issue your passports upon one condition," he said.
"And that condition?"--proudly.
"Tell me everything: Where has she gone, and with whom?"
"I know absolutely nothing."
Silence. The duke gnawed his mustache, while his eyes strove in vain
to beat down hers.
"Thank you, I believe you." Then, giving way to his wrath: "You
English people, you are all the same! You never understand. I have
brought up this girl and surrounded her with every luxury; against my
will and reason I have let her become educated in foreign lands; I have
given her the utmost freedom; this is how I am repaid."
"You forgot one important thing, your Highness."
"What?"--haughtily.
"Affection. You have never gives her that."
The duke felt himself beaten into silence, and this did not add to his
amiability.
"Your passports shall be made out immediately; but I beg of you to
reconsider your determination, and to remain here as long as you
please. For the sake of appearances, I desire your presence at the
dinner-table."
"I shall leave as soon as the dinner is over." This girl's mind seemed
immovable.
The duke shrugged. There was no use in beating against this wall. "I
wish you knew whither she has gone."
"Frankly, if I knew I should not tell your Highness. My father taught
me never to betray a confidence."
"As you will. I beg your pardon for the abruptness of my entrance," he
said, choking down his wrath. He could not allow himself to be
out-done in the matter of coolness by this chit of an English girl.
"I grant it you."
The duke then retired, or, I should say, retreated. He wandered
aimlessly about the palace, waiting for news and making wretched all
those with whom he came in contact. The duchess was not feeling well;
a wrangle with her was out of the question; besides, he would make
himself hoarse. So he waited and waited, and re-read the princess'
letter. At dinner he ate nothing; his replies were curt and surly.
The Honorable Betty also ate nothing. She sat, wondering if her maid
could pack five trunks in two hours.
I had quite a time of it myself that night. As I predicted, I received
a visit from the police in regard to Mr. Scharfenstein. I explained
the matter the best I knew how, and confessed that he had hurriedly
left the city for parts unknown. I did not consider it absolutely
essential that I should declare that I had seen him enter a railway
carriage for Dresden. Besides this, I had to stand sponsor for the
other boys and explain at length that they were in no wise concerned
with Mr. Scharfenstein's great offense. The police were courteous and
deferential, admitting that Max was the culprit. He had drawn a
revolver in a public restaurant; he had broken a grave law. The
inspector wrote a dozen telegrams and despatched them from the
consulate. I had, at his request, offered him the blanks.