"Your Highness, what are your commands?" It was the innkeeper who spoke. His fingers were twitching about the hammer of his carbine. He nodded approvingly toward me. My assault upon the Prince had brought me again into his good graces.
Gretchen did not answer him, but she smiled kindly.
"Ah, yes!" said the Prince. "This is that Breunner fellow."
The innkeeper made a movement. The Prince saw it, and so did I. Prince Ernst of Wortumborg was never so near death in all his life as at that moment. He knew it, too.
"Your Highness has a very good memory," said the innkeeper, dryly.
"There are some things it were best to forget," replied the Prince.
"I am pleased that Your Highness shares my opinion," returned the old fellow. The muzzle of the carbine was once more pointed at the ceiling.
The rest of us looked on, but we understood nothing of these passes.
Even Gretchen was in the dark.
"We met long ago," said the innkeeper.
"Yes; but I have really forgotten what the subject of Our discussion was," said the Prince, regarding the innkeeper through half-closed lids. "Perhaps he can explain."