"
"I believe you love your Paris better than your Dreiberg."
"Not a bit of doubt. And down in your heart you do, too. Think of the
lights, the theaters, the cafes and the pretty women!" Carmichael's cane
described a flourish as if to draw a picture of these things.
"Yes, yes," agreed the colonel reminiscently; "you are right. There is
no other night equal to a Parisian night. _Ach, Gott!_ But think of the
mornings, think of the mornings!"--dolefully.
"On the contrary, let us not think of them!"--with a mock shudder.
And then a pretty woman rose from a chair near-by. She nodded brightly
at the colonel, who bowed, excused himself to Carmichael, and made off
after her.
"I believe I stepped on his toe that time," said Carmichael to himself.
Then he looked round for Gretchen. She was still at the side of the
policeman. She had watched the scene between the two men, but was quite
unconscious that it had been set for her benefit. She came back.
Carmichael stepped confidently to her side and raised his hat.
"Did you get your geese together without mishap?" he asked.
The instinct of the child always remains with the woman. Gretchen
smiled. This young man would be different, she knew.
"They were only frightened. But his highness"--eagerly--"was he very
angry?"
"Angry? Not the least.
Pages:
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37