"Come," said Dan.
I dumbly followed him up to my room. He struck a match and lit the candle.
"Got any tobacco?" he asked, taking out a black pipe. "I have not had a good smoke in a week. I want to smoke awhile before I talk."
I now knew that he had been a witness to all, or at least to the larger part of it.
"There is some tobacco on the table," I said humbly. I felt that I had wronged him in some manner, though unintentionally. "The Princess Hildegarde!" I murmured.
"The very person," said Hillars. He lit his pipe and sat on the edge of the bed. He puffed and puffed, and I thought he never would begin. Presently he said: "And you never suspected who she was?"
"On my word of honor, I did not, Dan," said I, staring at the faded designs in the carpet. The golden galleon had gone down, and naught but a few bubbles told where she had once so proudly ridden the waters of the sea. The Princess Hildegarde? The dream was gone. Castles, castles! "I am glad you did not know," said Dan, "because I have always believed in your friendship. Yet, it is something we cannot help—this loving a woman. Why, a man will lay down his life for his friend, but he will rob him of the woman he loves. It is life. You love her, of course."
"Yes." I took out my own pipe now. "But what's the use. She is a Princess. Why, I thought her at first a barmaid—a barmaid! Then I thought her to be in some way a lawbreaker, a socialist conspirator. It would be droll if it were not sad. The Princess Hildegarde!" I laughed dismally. "Dan, old man, let's dig out at once, and close the page. We'll talk it over when we are older."
"No, we will face it out. She loves you. Why not? So do I." He got off the bed and came over to me and rested his hands on my shoulders. "Jack, my son, next to her I love you better than anything in the world. We have worked together, starved together, smoked and laughed together. There is a bond between us that no human force can separate. The Princess, if she cannot marry you, shall not marry the Prince. I have a vague idea that it is written. 'The moving finger writes; and, having writ, moves on.' We cannot cancel a line of it."
"Dan, you will do nothing rash or reckless?"