I had not seen her
Serene Highness, the Princess Hildegarde--Gretchen. She had remained
in her room, and all efforts of mine to hold communication with her had
proved futile. I had stood at her door and supplicated; she had told
me to go away. The innkeeper had scowled when I suggested that he
carry a note to his mistress. He had refused.
"The Princess receives no notes," he had said. "Gretchen--it was a
different matter."
And Hillars had slept till after noon. It had been a bad morning for
me. The wounded lieutenant had been carried away the night before, and
there had not been anything for me to do but wander about--waiting.
"Will you help me with the Rhine wine?" asked Hillars.
"No. My head is fuddled enough as it is."
"Then you must let me do all the talking."
"And why you?"
"I shall know better how to irritate them," with a laugh. "They will
not take any particular interest in you when they set eyes on me. Homo
sum! I am the man they are looking for. They will find plenty of me.
I shall be a syndicate in myself; where they expect to find one man,
they will find a dozen, all alive and kicking.
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