"Of the best, except for one thing."
His tone alarmed me somewhat. We drew away then from the crowd, and, standing apart together, he told me what had happened.
"That Clara is a devil, Prince, and we must beware of her. She hates you, and has been torn in two ways by this business."
"What do you mean, man? Speak out. Where is the Duke Marx?"
"Safe, and where no one will find him. Drunk as a Christian duke should be, and the wine that was made from the water couldn't make him drunker. She lured him out to Spenitz; and, when she had got him separated from his servants, drove with him to the house at Friessen alone." This was the place we had secured for the purpose in a lonely spot some fifty miles from the city. "He would have gone to the world's end in the mood she worked him into, and I chuckled louder every fresh mile we covered."
"You! What were you doing there?" I asked in astonishment.
"I was the driver, of course. We wanted no servants—there was no place for them—and, once we started from Spenitz, I vowed that he should go on if I had to brain him to get him there. Bacchus, but he's a fool!"
"Get on with the story, man," said I impatiently. "I want to know what you fear is wrong."
"He went out like a lamb, protesting only now and then that he must be back soon, and must be in Munich to-night; but she stopped his protests with a kiss, and the fool was as happy as a drunken clown. We reached Friessen, and then the play began. While they were billing and fooling in the house I slipped a saddle on the horse's back in place of his harness, went out on to the road, and, after I had given him less than half an hour with Clara, I came galloping up to the house at full stretch, for all the world as if I had followed them every yard of the way from Spenitz, and I rushed into the room with my sword drawn, spluttering out oaths, and vowing I'd have his life on the spot."
"Well?"