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Updated: June 12, 2025
Her Serene Highness the Princess Hildegarde was in Jericho, and Hillars along with her, where I had consigned them. Next morning Gretchen waited upon me at breakfast. She was quiet and answered my questions in monosyllables. Presently she laid something at the side of my plate. It was my pipe. I looked at her, but the leads of my eyes could not plumb the depths in hers.
It was Hillars, and he was pushing rapidly across the street. Any one would have instantly marked him for an American by the nervous stride, the impatience at being obstructed. I went into the fire-room, intending to give him a little surprise. I did not have long to wait. The door to the main office opened and he came in, singing a snatch from a drinking song we used to sing at college.
"Well, well! it doesn't matter where you came from. Here, you," to the trio behind him, "go back to the stables." They filed out. Then the innkeeper took Hillars by the arm. "Come along; time passes." "And where are you going?" I asked anxiously. Hillars should not have passed from my sight but for Gretchen. "We'll be back shortly," he answered. "You will know all about then, my son."
Evidently Hillars had found "Jericho" distasteful and had returned to protest. "Hello, there!" he hailed, seeing but not recognizing me; "have you seen any cavalry pass this way?" "No, I have not," I answered in English. "Eh? What's that?" not quite believing it was English he had heard. "I said that no cavalry has passed this way since this afternoon.
Tenderly we carried the inanimate form of poor Hillars into the inn and laid it on the sofa. I tore back his blood-wet shirt. The wound was slightly below the right lung. The bullet had severed an artery, for I could see that the blood gushed. We worked over him for a few moments, and then he opened his eyes. He saw me and smiled. "There wasn't any regiment, old man, but this will suffice.
As I knew that Hillars did not wish to be found I made no inquiries. He was somewhere on the Continent, but where no one knew. At one time a letter dated at St. Petersburg reached me, and at another time I was informed of his presence at Monte Carlo. In neither letter was there any mention of her Serene Highness, the Princess Hildegarde of Hohenphalia.
Troublesome, they are interesting; interesting, they are lovable. It was more than a year since last I saw Phyllis; yet my love for her knew no diminution. I began to understand why Hillars traveled all over the Continent to get a glimpse of the woman he loved. With the pleasant thought that I should see Phyllis again, I dozed. I was half asleep when I was aroused by loud voices in the corridor.
There is only one philosophy; it is to learn to die. "Come," said I to the innkeeper; and we went down the hill. "When does the Herr leave?" "At once. There will be no questions?" I asked, pointing to the village. "None. Who knows?" "Then, remember that Herr Hillars was taken suddenly ill and died, and that he desired to be buried here.
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.
If there was one thing for which he could not account, it was the presence of Hillars at the inn. "Never mind where, but come," answered Hillars, gayly. He bent and whispered something into the old fellow's ear. It was something which pleased him, for he screwed his lips into a smile, and took the white hand of the whisperer in his brawny fist and nigh crushed it.
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