Arms and the Woman

"It is very kind of Your Highness," said the innkeeper, laughing

maliciously. "But I am old, and my memory serves me ill."

The Prince shrugged. "But we have drifted away from the present

matter. Your Highness, then, promises to bend to the will of the King?"

"Yes," said Gretchen. "I gave the King my promise because I had

wearied of resistance, having no one to turn to--then. I shall marry

you, though I detest you; but I shall be your wife only in name, and

not in the eyes of God."

"The latter sacrifice was not asked of you," smiled the Prince.

"I shall depart this day for the capital," continued Gretchen. "I warn

you not to inflict your presence upon me during the journey. Now go.

The air while you remain is somewhat difficult to breathe."

The Prince surveyed the menacing faces which surrounded him, then

gathered up his hat and gloves.

"I see that Your Highness will be a dutiful wife," he said, smoothing

the silk of his hat with his elbow. He blew into his gloves and

carefully drew them over his hands. "A pleasant journey to Your

Highness," he added. "Come, Count. And these?" waving his hand toward

Hillars and me.

"They have my fullest protection."

He smiled villainously, then walked to the door with a measured tread.

At the door he turned. There was a flash of rage in his eyes, but he

quickly subdued it.

"Auf wiedersehen!" with a sweeping glance which took in all of us, and

particularly me.

He passed out, the Count following him soberly. The two cavalrymen

thrust their sabres into the scabbards with a clank, and made as though

to follow.

"Wait," said Gretchen. "I shall have need of you. You will escort me

to the station. Now you may go."

They saluted gravely. They appreciated the situation. The Princess

was their bread and butter.

"Your Highness," said Hillars, "there has been a mistake."

"A mistake?" repeated Gretchen, wonderingly.

"Yes. They have made you a Princess, whereas they should have made you

a Queen. Will you forgive me the trouble I have caused?"

"It is I who must ask forgiveness of you," she said, with a sad smile.

"You may kiss my hand, sir."

Hillars remained somewhat long over it.

"And how comes it that you gentlemen know each other?" she asked.

"Damon and Pythias, Your Highness," answered Hillars. "We were brought

up together, and we have shared our tents and kettles. I recommend

Pythias to you as a brave gentleman." Then he came to me. "You are a

brave fellow, Jack," grasping my hand. "Good luck to you. I had an

idea; it has returned. Now, then, innkeeper, come with me."