"I command it!"
Wasn't it fine to be ordered about in this fashion? If only the train
might go on and on and on, thousands of miles! He applied a match to
the end of his cigar and leaned back against the cushion.
"Where shall I begin?"
"At the beginning. I'm not one of those novel readers who open a book
at random. I do not appreciate effects till I have found out the
causes. I want to know everything about you, for you interest me."
He began. He told her that he was a German by birth and blood. He had
been born either in Germany or in Austria, he did not know which. He
had been found in Tyrol, in a railway station. A guard had first
picked him up, then a kind-hearted man named Scharfenstein had taken
him in charge, advertised for his parents and, hearing nothing, had
taken him to America with him.
"If they catch you," she interrupted, "do not under any consideration
let them know that you were not born in the United States. Your friend
the American consul could do nothing for you then."
"Trust me to keep silent, then." He continued: "I have lived a part of
my life on the great plains; have ridden horses for days and days at a
time. As a deputy sheriff I have arrested desperadoes, have shot and
been shot at. Then I went East and entered a great college; went in
for athletics, and wore my first dress-suit. Then my foster-parent
died, leaving me his fortune. And as I am frugal, possibly because of
my German origin, I have more money than I know what to do with." He
ceased.
"Go on," she urged.
"When the Spanish War broke out I entered a cavalry regiment as a
trooper. I won rank, but surrendered it after the battle of Santiago.
And now there are but two things in the world I desire to complete my
happiness. I want to know who I am."
"And the other thing?"
"The other thing? I can't tell _you_ that!"--hurriedly.
"Ah, I believe I know. You have left some sweetheart back in America."
All her interest In his narrative took a strange and unaccountable
slump.
"No; I have often admired women, but I have left no sweetheart back in
America. If I had I should now feel very uncomfortable."
Somehow she couldn't meet his eyes. She recognized, with vague anger,
that she was glad that he had no sweetheart. Ah, well, nobody could
rob her of her right to dream, and this was a very pleasant dream.
"The train is slowing down," he said suddenly.