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Updated: June 17, 2025
"My remarks, most noble and puissant Count," said Hillars, bowing, satirically, to the neck of his horse, "I shall confine to the still more noble and puissant Prince of Wortumborg." "This is an unappreciated honor," sneered the Prince. "So it is," replied Hillars, lightly. "When an honest man speaks to you he is conferring an honor upon you which you, as you say, cannot appreciate.
"He's in civilian dress; little black mustache and an imperial." "Look anything like Napoleon III?" "You've hit it. Who is he?" "They say he's Prince Ernst of Wortumborg," said Hillars; "but it is my opinion that he's the devil on a furlough." "Then he is the man " I began. "He is.
"Now if you will excuse me, cousin mine, I'll make a call on her Serene Highness the Princess Hildegarde." Just then the door opened and Pembroke's valet came in. He handed a card to me, and I read upon it, "Count von Walden." I cast it into Pembroke's lap. "That's the man. He is the inseparable of the Prince of Wortumborg." Then to the valet, "Show him up." "What's it all about?" asked Pembroke.
The Prince saw it, and so did I. Prince Ernst of Wortumborg was never so near death in all his life as at that moment. He knew it, too. "Your Highness has a very good memory," said the innkeeper, dryly. "There are some things it were best to forget," replied the Prince. "I am pleased that Your Highness shares my opinion," returned the old fellow.
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