“Then there would have been one noble-hearted man the less,” said Larrson. “Won’t you give me one more shake of the hand, as you did then?”
“With all my heart!” said Christian, grasping the major’s hand.
Then, removing his mask, he said to M. Goefle:
“It is not my custom to hide my face from persons who inspire me with confidence and affection.”
“What!” exclaimed the major and his lieutenant, “Christian Goefle, our friend of last night?”
“No; Christian Waldo, who had stolen the name of M. Goefle, and whom M. Goefle has been good enough to pardon for a great impertinence. I recognized you at once last evening, major.”
“Ah, very good! You attended the ball in spite of the prejudices of the baron, who, perhaps, had not had the good taste to invite you?”
“But it is nowhere customary to receive as a guest a person who is paid by the master of the house to entertain his guests. I should really have had no reason to complain if I had been put out of doors, and it was folly in me to expose myself to such a danger. Still, I had an excuse; my object in travelling is to observe the countries through which I pass, so as to remember and describe them. I am a sort of note-taking scribbler and observer; by which I do not mean, however, a diplomatic spy. I study the fine arts and sciences even more than manners and customs, but I am interested in all sorts of things; and as I have seen something of society elsewhere, I took a fancy to behold it once more in all its luxury—a strange anomaly—in the midst of the mountains and lakes and ice of a country that is apparently inaccessible. But my face seems greatly to have displeased the baron, and accordingly I wore my mask at his house to-day. You advised me last evening not to return thither at all.”
“And we should so advise you still, dear Christian,” said the major, “if the baron had remembered the incident of last night, but his illness appears to have made him forget it. However, look out for his servants. Cover your face again, and talk French, for here are some of them now, bringing us the punch; they may have seen you at the ball.”
A vast silver bowl, full of flaming punch, was now placed upon the table of rough granite, and the major did the honors with much spirit; but M. Goefle, an instant before so animated, had suddenly fallen into a brown study, and, as in the morning, seemed to be divided between the desire of making merry and that of solving some problem.