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"It is pleasant to have one's hand kissed, as Amy said. Poor Karl, his fate is almost as hard as Casimer's." Some subtile power seemed to make the four young people shun one another carefully, though all longed to be together. The major appeared to share the secret disquiet that made the rest roam listlessly about, till little Roserl came to invite them to a fête in honor of the vintage.
As Amy took her place that day she looked forlorn, and when her pupil came her only welcome was a reproachful "You are very late, sir." "It is fifteen of minutes yet to ten clocks," was Casimer's reply, in his best English. "Ten o'clock, and leave out 'of' before minutes. How many times must I tell you that?" said Amy, severely, to cover her first mistake.
"Alas! yes," was the mournful reply, as Karl dropped his eyes to hide the curious expression of mirth which he could not banish from them. "Can you not conquer them, or escape the danger they place you in?" "We hope to conquer, we cannot escape." "This accounts for your disguise and Casimer's false name?" "Yes.
If so, pray command me," he said, eagerly, coming a step nearer. "You can, and I intend to ask your advice, for there can be nothing amiss in doing so, since you are a friend of Casimer's." "I am both friend and confidant, mademoiselle," he answered, as if anxious to let her understand that he knew all, without the embarrassment of words. She looked up quickly, relieved, yet troubled.
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