“You are laughing at me.”
“I am not; bring him down here. This noble gentleman has power over him. I wonder, indeed, at his daring to stay while he is so near; he has on his heart that which will send him trembling away. Bring him down here, and you shall at once see him vanish with curses and screams.”
“Heaven defend us!” cried the commandant, terrified.
“Send for him now, signor.”
“He is gone—vanished—not to be found!”
“I thought as much,” replied Philip, significantly.
“He is gone—vanished—you say. Then, commandant, you will probably apologise to this noble gentleman for your treatment of him, and permit us to return to our former apartments. I will there explain to you this most strange and interesting history.”
The commandant, more confused than ever, hardly knew how to act. At last he bowed to Philip, and begged that he would consider himself at liberty; “and,” continued he to Krantz, “I shall be most happy at an immediate explanation of this affair, for everything appears so contradictory.”
“And must, until it is explained. I will follow you into your own room; a courtesy you must not expect from my noble friend, who is not a little indignant at your treatment of him.”
The commandant went out, leaving the door open. Philip and Krantz followed: the former retiring to his own apartment; the latter, bending his steps after the commandant to his sitting-room. The confusion which whirled in the brain of the commandant made him appear most ridiculous. He hardly knew whether to be imperative or civil; whether he was really speaking to the first mate of the vessel, or to another party; or whether he had insulted a noble, or been cajoled by a captain of a vessel: he threw himself down on his sofa, and Krantz, taking his seat in a chair, stated as follows:—