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"The grand duke and some of his staff, Herr." "The grand duke? Who was the gentleman in civilian clothes?" "That was his excellency, Herr Carmichael, the American consul." "Very good. And the young lady?" "Her serene highness, the Princess Hildegarde." "Bring me a glass of beer," said Grumbach, sinking down at a table.
He went boldly over and seated himself in the chair at the side of the desk. With a sigh Carmichael left Porthos in the grotto of Locmaria. "I am Mr. Grumbach. I spoke to you this morning about my passports. Will you kindly look them over?" Carmichael took the papers, frowning slightly. Grumbach laid his derby on his knees.
But Grumbach could not see anything except the girl's face, the fresh, exquisite turn of her profile. Once his eye wandered rather guiltily. Her figure was in keeping with her face. Then he saw the little wooden shoes. Ah, well, as long as kings surrounded themselves with armies and with pomp, there would always be wooden shoes. The band was playing Les Huguenots, and the girl hummed the air.
I saw no irregularity in his papers. I am rather astonished to see him here and not at the police bureau, if any question has arisen over his passports." "Fought side by side," the chancellor repeated thoughtfully. "Then he is no stranger to you?" "I do not say that. We were, however, in the same cavalry, only in different troops. Grumbach, you have your honorable discharge with you?"
"What's up, Hans?" "Tell your clerk to leave us," said Grumbach, his face as barren of expression as a rock. "Something serious, eh?" Carmichael dismissed the clerk, telling him to return after the noon hour. "Now, then," he said, "what is the trouble?" "I have already spoken to you about it," Grumbach returned. "The matter has gone badly.
He was not in an amiable mood this fair September morning. And when some one hammered on the door he called sharply. Grumbach entered. "You are angry about something," he said. "So I am, but you are always welcome." "You have overslept?" "No; on the contrary." "Poker?" "After a fashion," said Carmichael, the grumble gone from his voice. "I was beaten by three of a kind." "So?"
To describe the Princess Hildegarde was not only an easy task, but a pleasant one to Carmichael, and if he embroidered this description here and there, Grumbach was too deeply concerned with the essential points to notice these variations in the theme. "So she is gentle and beautiful? Why not? Ach! You should have seen her mother.
Count von Herbeck is a great statesman, but he made a terrible mistake this time. Listen. As sure as we are in this room together, I believe that she whom we call the princess is not the daughter of the grand duke." Carmichael sat down on the edge of the bed, numb and without any clear idea where he was. From the stony look on his face, Grumbach might have carried the head of Medusa in his hand.
Herr Captain, you will return with me to the ball-room?" "If your excellency will excuse me, no. I am tired. I shall return to the hotel with Herr Grumbach." "As you please. Good night." The three left the cabinet under various emotions. The sub-chief bowed himself off at the gates, and Carmichael and Grumbach crossed the Platz leisurely.
Grumbach pressed down the ash in his pipe and brushed his thumb on his sleeve. "I was looking into the past." "With a pair of opera-glasses?" "Yes." Grumbach was perfectly serious. "Oh, pshaw! You were following her highness with them. I want to know why." "She is beautiful." "You made a promise to me not long ago." "I did?" non-committally. "Yes.
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