But the handsome youth, after the fashion of Austrian officers, put his hand to his cap with inimitable grace, while a decided smile, a smile of happiness, played about the corners of his mouth, and his answer by no means expressed assent.
"Well, I love life. Here one really lives. When there is no war in Europe, then it is wearisome," he said, speaking in English, which most clearly proved how distant his relation to the old continent was.
At the station, when they were standing on the platform beside the train, Schmidt said to Frederick, wringing his hand impetuously in his German way:
"Now, old fellow, you must soon come to see me in Meriden. Meriden is a small place, and you can recuperate there better than here."
"I'm not altogether a free agent," Frederick replied with a faint, fatalistic smile.
"Why not?"
"I have obligations. I am tied down."
With the indiscretion of intimacy, Schmidt asked:
"Has it anything to do with the wooden Madonna?"
"Perhaps it is something of the sort," Frederick replied. "The poor little thing lost her father, her natural protector, and as I had a share in her rescue—"