Arms and the Woman

"Your Highness insists?" murmured the Count.

"I not only insist, I command." The Prince took off his coat and

waistcoat and deposited them on the grass at the side of the road.

Hillars did likewise. There was a pleased expression on his face. "I

do believe, Count," laughed the Prince, "this fellow expects to kill

me. Now, the pistols."

"If you will permit me," said the innkeeper, taking an oblong box from

under his coat. "These are excellent weapons."

The Prince laughed. "I suppose, innkeeper, if the result is disastrous

to me, it will please you?"

The innkeeper was not lacking in courtesy. "It would be a pleasure, I

assure you. There are certain reasons why I cannot fight you myself."

"To be sure."

"It would be too much like murder," continued the innkeeper. "Your

hand would tremble so that you would miss me at point-blank. There

goes the last of the sun. We must hurry."

With a grimace the Count accepted the box and took out the pistols.

"They are old-fashioned," he said.

"A deal like the innkeeper's morals," supplemented the Prince.

"But effective," said the innkeeper.

The Count scowled at the old fellow, who met the look with phlegm. As

an innkeeper he might be an inferior, but as a second at a duel he was

an equal. It was altogether a different matter.

The Count carefully loaded the weapons, the innkeeper watching him

attentively. In his turn he examined them.

"Very good," he said.

The paces were then measured out. During this labor the Prince gazed

indifferently toward the west. The aftermath of the sun glowed on the

horizon. The Prince shaded his eyes for a spell.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I believe the Princess is approaching. At any

rate here comes the coach. Let us suspend hostilities till she has

passed."

A few minutes later the coach came rumbling along in a whirlwind of

dust. The stoical cavalrymen kept on without so much as a glance at

the quartet standing at the side of the road. Hillars looked after the

vehicle till it was obscured from view. Then he shook himself out of

the dream into which he had fallen. He was pale now, and his eyebrows

were drawn together as the Count held out the pistol.

"Ah, yes!" he said, as though he had forgotten. "There goes the woman

who will never become your wife."

"That shall be decided at once," was the retort of the Prince.