Bloem, turning, stopped an instant for a burlesque salute, then threw himself into the other's arms. A moment later, he was dragging him forward to introduce him to Stewart.
"My cousin," he cried, "Ritter Bloem, a soldier as you see—a great fire-eater! Cousin, this is my friend, Dr. Bradford Stewart, whom I had the good fortune to meet at Vienna."
"I am pleased to know you, sir," said the captain, shaking hands and speaking excellent English.
"You must join us," Bloem interposed. "We are just going to have coffee on the terrace. Come," and he caught the other by the arm.
But the captain shook his head.
"No, I cannot come," he said; "really I cannot, much as I should like to do so. Dr. Stewart," he added, a little hesitatingly, "I trust you will not think me discourteous if I take my cousin aside for a moment."
"Certainly not," Stewart assured him.
"I will join you on the terrace," said Bloem, and Stewart, nodding good-by to the captain, followed the waiter, who had stood by during this exchange of greetings, and now led the way to a little table at one corner of the broad balcony looking out over the square.
"Shall I pour the coffee, sir?" he asked, as Stewart sat down.
"No; I will wait for my companion," and, as the waiter bowed and stepped back, Stewart leaned forward with a deep breath of admiration.