"Why--why--what is this woman to you--this tavern wench, this--"
"Be careful," I warned.
Gretchen was calmly wiping her cheek; but her eyes were like polished
emeralds.
"You came here, I believe," said I, "to see if my passports were
proper."
"Damn you and your passports! Are you a gentleman?"
"Would you recognize one if you saw him?" I laughed.
"Can you fight?"
"Certainly," said I, thinking of the weapons nature in her kindness had
given to me.
"Good! Otto, have the horses brought around. We will cut for the
barracks and get the colonel's weapons--the rapiers."
The word "rapier" sent an icy chill up my spine. A duel!
"The devil!" said I, under my breath. I knew less about fencing than I
did about aerial navigation, which was precious little. The fact that
Gretchen was now smiling aggravated the situation. I could not help
the shudder. Why, the fellow would make a sieve out of me!
"Will you look at my passports now?" I asked. "You may not have the
opportunity again."
"Your passports from now on will be void," was the retort. "But I
shall be pleased to give you a passport to the devil.
Pages:
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161