It took courage indeed to face the matter squarely
and resolutely, when there was the urging desire to linger on and on,
indefinitely. That she was not going to marry the king of Jugendheit did
not alter his affairs in the least. It was all hopeless, absurd, and
impossible. He must go.
Some one was knocking on the door.
"Come in."
"A letter for your excellency," said the concierge.
"Wait till I read it. There may be an answer."
"If Herr Carmichael would learn the secret of number forty Krumerweg,
let him attire himself as a vintner and be in the Krumerweg at eight
o'clock to-night."
This note was as welcome to the recipient as the flowers in the spring.
An adventure? He was ready, now and always. Anything to take his mind
off his own dismal affairs. Then he recalled the woman in black; the
letter could apply to none but her. More than this, he might light upon
the puzzle regarding the vintner. He had met the fellow before. But
where?
"What sort of clothes does a vintner wear?" he asked.
"A vintner, your Excellency?"
"Yes. I shall need the costume of a vintner this evening."
"Oh, that will be easy," affirmed the concierge, "if your excellency
does not mind wearing clothes that have already been worn."
"My excellency will not care a hang.
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