The Princess looked on mechanically.
"Come," said the Count, in broken English; "I believe your carriage is
at the gate."
I glanced at the Princess. She might have been of stone, for all the
life she exhibited.
"Come; the comedy is a poor one," said the Count.
I followed him out of the garden. My indifference to personal safety
was due to a numbness which had taken hold of me.
"Get in," he said, when we reached the carriage. I did so, and he got
in after me. The driver appeared confused. It was not his fare,
according to the agreement. "To the city," he was briefly told. "Your
hotel?" turning to me. I named it. "Do you understand German?"
"But indifferently," I answered listlessly.
"It appears that you understand neither the language nor the people.
Who are you?"
"That is my concern," I retorted. I was coming about, and not
unnaturally became vicious.
"It concerns me also," was the gruff reply.
"Have your own way about it."
"How came you by that medal?" pointing to my breast.
"Honestly," said I.
"Honestly or dishonestly, it is all the same.
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