“The old mare’ll soon take you there, sir,” said the driver. I jumped in. But at this moment I saw a man on the platform beckoning with his hand and hastening towards me. The cabman also saw him and waited. I dared not tell him to drive on, for I feared to betray any undue haste, and it would have looked strange not to spare a moment to my wife’s cousin, Anton von Strofzin. He came up, holding out his hand delicately gloved in pearl-gray kid, for young Anton was a leader of the Strelsau dandies.
“Ah, my dear Fritz!” said he. “I am glad I hold no appointment at court. How dreadfully active you all are! I thought you were settled at Zenda for a month?”
“The queen changed her mind suddenly,” said I, smiling. “Ladies do, as you know well, you who know all about them.”
My compliment, or insinuation, produced a pleased smile and a gallant twirling of his moustache.
“Well, I thought you’d be here soon,” he said, “but I didn’t know that the queen had come.”
“You didn’t? Then why did you look for me?”
He opened his eyes a little in languid, elegant surprise. “Oh, I supposed you’d be on duty, or something, and have to come. Aren’t you in attendance?”
“On the queen? No, not just now.”
“But on the king?”
“Why, yes,” said I, and I leaned forward. “At least I’m engaged now on the king’s business.”