There was a question in his,
a command in hers. I pretended to be examining the faded tints in the
stein I held in my hand.
I was thinking: "Since when has an innkeeper waited on the wishes of
his barmaid?"
There was a mystery after all.
CHAPTER IX
I took my pipe and strolled along the river bank. What had I stumbled
into? Here was an old inn, with rather a feudal air; but it was only
one in a thousand; a common feature throughout the Continent. And yet,
why had the gods, when they cast out Hebe, chosen this particular inn
for her mortal residence? The pipe solves many riddles, and then,
sometimes, it creates a density. I put my pipe into my pocket and
cogitated. Gretchen had brought about a new order of things. A
philosophical barmaid was certainly a novelty. That Gretchen was
philosophical I had learned in the rose gardens. That she was also
used to giving commands I had learned in the onion patch. Hitherto I
had held the onion in contempt; already I had begun to respect it.
Above all, Gretchen was a mystery, the most alluring kind of mystery--a
woman who was not what she seemed.
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