Arms and the Woman
Page 56At the breakfast table I proceeded to bombard the innkeeper. I wanted
to know more about Gretchen.
"Is Gretchen your daughter?" I began.
"No, I am only her godfather," he said. "Does Herr wish another egg?"
"Thanks. She is very well educated for a barmaid."
"Yes. Does Herr wish Rhine wine?"
"Coffee is plenty. Has Gretchen seen many Americans?"
"Few. Perhaps Herr would like a knoblauch with salt and vinegar?"
It occurred to me that Gretchen was not to be discussed. So I made for
another channel.
"I have heard," said I, "that once upon a time a princess was born in
The old fellow elevated both eyebrows and shoulders--a deprecating
movement.
"They say that of every inn; it has become a trade."
If I had known the old man I might have said that he was sarcastic.
"Then there is no truth in it?" disappointedly.
"Oh, I do not say there is no truth in the statement; if Herr will
pardon me, it is something I do not like to talk about."
"Ah, then there is a mystery?" I cried, with lively interest, pushing
back my chair.
But the innkeeper shook his head determinedly.
He smiled. The smile said: "Much good it will do you."
Gretchen was in the barroom arranging some roses over the fireplace.
Her hands were bare; they were small and white, and surprisingly well
kept.
"Gretchen," said I, "I want you to tell me the legend of the inn."
"The legend?"
"Yes; about the Princess who was born here."
Gretchen laughed a merry laugh. The laugh said: "You are an amusing
person!"
"Ah, the American is always after legends when he has tired of
any rate it is not a legend; history nor peasantry make mention of it.
Will Herr be so kind as to carry the ladder to the mantel so I may wind
the clock?"
I do so. Even at this early stage I could see that Gretchen had the
faculty of making persons forget what they were seeking, and by the
mere sound of her voice. And it was I who wound the clock.
"Gretchen," said I, "time lags. Make a servant out of me this morning."
"Herr does the barmaid too much honor," with lowered eyes.