"And who, in the name of Weimer, are you?" bawled the Count. He
scrutinized me intently; then a light of recognition broke over his
face. "The other one! A nest of them!"
"Count," interposed the Prince, seating himself at the table, "let me
have a short talk with them before you act. There may be extenuating
circumstances. Anything of this sort amuses and interests me. Let us
use a little diplomacy in the matter."
"Yes," said Hillars; "let us lie a little."
"And who can do it better than a journalist?" the Prince laughed.
"Diplomatists," Hillars sent back.
"What is her Serene Highness to you?" resumed the Prince.
"Nothing--positively nothing."
"Then you are afraid to acknowledge your regard for her?"
"I?" Hillars dropped his arm from my shoulders. "I am not afraid of
anything--not even the Count here." Then he laughed. "If her Serene
Highness was anything to me, your Highness, I should not be afraid to
say so before the King himself."
"You impudent--" But a wave of the Prince's hand silenced the Count.
"Have patience, my friend. This is not impudence; it is courage and
prudence.
Pages:
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185