Arms and the Woman

"Are you aware that your actions are very annoying?"

"How, sir?" proudly.

"You stare me out of countenance, you refrain from entering into

conversation, and by the way you follow me in and out of the carriage,

one would say that you were watching me. All this is not common

politeness."

"Herr jests," he replied with a forced smile. "If I desire not to

converse, that is my business. As for getting in and out of the

carriage, have I no rights as a passenger?"

It was I who subsided. A minute passed.

"But why do you stare at me?" I asked.

"I do not stare at you, I have no paper and tried to read yours at a

distance. I am willing to apologize for that."

"Oh, that is different," I said. I tossed the paper to him. "You are

welcome to the paper."

I covertly watched him as he tried to read the French. By and by he

passed the paper back.

"I am not a very good French scholar, and the French are tiresome."

"They would not have been if they had had a General who thought more of

fighting than of wearing pretty clothes."

"Oh, it would not have mattered," confidently.

"Prussia was once humbled by a Frenchman." I was irritating him with a

purpose in view.

"Bah!"

"The only reason the French were beaten was because they did not think

the German race worth troubling about."

He laughed pleasantly. "You Americans have a strange idea of the

difference between the German and the Frenchman."

This was just what I wanted.

"And who informed you that I was an American?"

He was disconcerted.

"Why," he said, lamely, "it is easily apparent, the difference between

the American and the Englishman." Then, as though a bright idea had

come to him, "The English never engage in conversation with strangers

while traveling. Americans are more sociable."

"They are? Then I advise them to follow the example set by the

Englishman: Never try to get up a conversation while traveling with a

German. It is a disagreeable task;" and I settled back behind my paper.

How had he found out that I was an American? Was I known? And for

what reason was I known? To my knowledge I had never committed any

offence to the extent that I must be watched like a suspect. What his

object was and how he came to know that I was an American was a mystery

to me. I was glad that the journey would last but an hour or so

longer. The train arrived at the capital late at night. As I went to

inquire about my luggage I saw my late fellow passenger joined by

another officer. The two began talking earnestly, giving me occasional

side-long glances. The mystery was deepening. In passing them I

caught words which sounded like "under another name" and "positive it

is he." This was anything but reassuring to me. At length they

disappeared, only to meet me outside the station. It got into my head

that I was a marked man. A feeling of discomfort took possession of

me. Germans are troublesome when they get an idea. I was glad to get

into the carriage which was to take me to my hotel. The driver seemed

to have some difficulty in starting the horse, but I gave this no

attention. When the vehicle did start it was with a rapidity which

alarmed me. Corner after corner was turned, and the lights went by in

flashes. It was taking a long time to reach my hotel, I thought.

Suddenly it dawned upon me that the direction we were going was

contrary to my instructions. I tried to open the window, but it

refused to move. Then I hammered on the pane, but the driver was deaf,

or purposely so.