"That sounds very well, sir, but how can I take up arms against my Prince? He stands by his guns—as you may see, sir,—and, dammit all, I'm no traitor. I've just got to stand by 'em with him. That rot about all being fair in love and war is the silliest—Oh, well, there's no use whining about it. I'm mad about her, and so is he. You can't—"
The Count stopped him with a sharp gesture. A look of real concern appeared in his eyes.
"Do you believe that he is actually in love with this girl?"
"Heels over head," barked the unhappy lieutenant. "I've never seen a worse case."
"This is serious—more serious than I thought."
"It's horrible," declared Dank, but not thinking of the situation from the Count's point of view.
"We do not know who or what she is. She may be—"
"I beg your pardon, sir, but we do know what she is," said the other firmly. "You will not pretend to say that she is not a gentlewoman. She is cultured, refined—"
"I grant all of that," said the Count. "I am not blind, Dank, But it seems fairly certain that her name is not Guile. We—"
"Nor is his name Schmidt. That's no argument, sir."