“Well, of course they will. Now, don’t argue, my good fellow, but listen to me. We’re two gentlemen of the King’s household, and one of us has a toothache. The other will order a private room and dinner, and, further, a bottle of the best wine for the sufferer. And if he be as clever a fellow as I take him for, the pretty girl and no other will wait on us.”
“What if she won’t?” objected Fritz.
“My dear Fritz,” said I, “if she won’t for you, she will for me.”
We were at the inn. Nothing of me but my eyes was visible as I walked in. The landlady received us; two minutes later, my little friend (ever, I fear me, on the look-out for such guests as might prove amusing) made her appearance. Dinner and the wine were ordered. I sat down in the private room. A minute later Fritz came in.
“She’s coming,” he said.
“If she were not, I should have to doubt the Countess Helga’s taste.”
She came in. I gave her time to set the wine down—I didn’t want it dropped. Fritz poured out a glass and gave it to me.
“Is the gentleman in great pain?” the girl asked, sympathetically.
“The gentleman is no worse than when he saw you last,” said I, throwing away my cloak.
She started, with a little shriek. Then she cried: