Carmichael was plainly bewildered. He tried to recall the past history of Ehrenstein which would offer a niche for this inoffensive-looking German. He was blocked.
"Dead or alive," he repeated.
"So."
"You were mad to return."
"I know it. But I had to come; I couldn't help it. Oh, don't look like that! I never hurt anybody, unless it was in battle"—naïvely. "Ask no more, my friend. I promise to tell you when the right time comes. Now, will you get me that invitation to the gallery at the military ball?"
"I will, if you will give me your word, as a soldier, as a comrade in arms, that you have no other purpose than to look at the people."
"As God is my judge"—solemnly—"that is all I wish to do. Now, what has happened since I went away? I have dared to ask questions of no one."
Carmichael gave him a brief summary of events, principal among which was the amazing restoration of the Princess Hildegarde. When he had finished, Grumbach remained dumb and motionless for a time.
"And what is her serene highness like?"
To describe the Princess Hildegarde was not only an easy task, but a pleasant one to Carmichael, and if he embroidered this description here and there, Grumbach was too deeply concerned with the essential points to notice these variations in the theme.