I owned a single good cigar, the last of my importation. I lighted it

and blew forth a snowy billow of heavenly aroma. I know something

about human nature, even the feminine side of it. A presentable young

man with a roll of aromatic tobacco seldom falls to win the confidence

of those about him. With that cloud of smoke the raw edge of formality

smoothed down.

"Had you any particular destination?" asked Gretchen.

"None at all. The road took my fancy, and I simply followed it."

"Ah! that is one of the pleasures of riding--to go wherever the

inclination bids. I ride."

We were getting on famously.

"Do you take long journeys?" I inquired.

"Often. It is the most exhilarating of sports," said the Enchantment.

"The scenery changes; there are so many things that charm and engage

your interest: the mountains, the waterways, the old ruins. Have you

ever whistled to the horses afield and watched them come galloping down

to the wall? It is fine. In England--" But her mouth closed

suddenly. She was talking to a stranger.

I love enthusiasm in a woman. It colors her cheeks and makes her eyes

sparkle, I grew a bit bolder.

"I heard a wonderful voice as I approached the castle," said I.

Gretchen shrugged.

"I haven't heard its equal outside Berlin or Paris," I went on.

"Paris?" said Gretchen, laying a neat little trap for me into which my

conceit was soon to tumble me. "Paris is a marvelous city."

"There is no city to equal it. Inasmuch as we three shall never meet

again, will you not do me the honor to repeat that jewel song from

_Faust_?" My audacity did not impress her in the least.

"You can scarcely expect me to give a supper to a stranger and then

sing for him, besides," said Gretchen, a chill again stealing into her

tones. "These Americans!" she observed to her companion in French.

I laid aside my cigar, approached the piano, and sat down. I struck a

few chords and found the instrument to be in remarkably good order. I

played a Chopin _Polonaise_, I tinkled Grieg's _Papillon_, then I

ceased.

"That is to pay for my supper," I explained.

Next I played _Le Courier_, and when I had finished that I turned

again, rising.

"That is to pay for my horse's supper," I said.

Gretchen's good humor returned.

"Whoever you are, sir," her tone no longer repellent, "you are amusing.

Pray, tell us whom we have the honor to entertain?"

"I haven't the vaguest idea who my hostess is,"--evasively.

"It is quite out of the question. You are the intruder."




readonlinefreebook.com Copyright 2016 - 2024