“Lieutenant von Mitter?” cried Maurice, dropping the dog, who by now had grasped the meaning of it all. “You came just in time!”
They shook hands.
“I'll lay odds that you put up a good fight,” the Lieutenant said, pleasantly. “Curse these students! If I had my way I'd coop them all up in their pest-hole of a university and blow them into eternity.”
“And how did the dog come in this part of the town?” asked Maurice, picking up his hat.
“He was with her Royal Highness. This is charity afternoon. She drives about giving alms to the poor, and when she enters a house the dog stands at the entrance to await her return. She came out of another door and forgot the dog. Max there remembered him only when we were several blocks away. A dozen or so of those rascally students stood opposite us when we stopped here. It flashed on me in a minute why the dog did not follow us. And we came back at a cut, leaving her Highness with no one but the groom. Max, take the dog to her Highness, and tell her that it is Monsieur Carewe who is to be thanked.”
Maurice blushed. “Say nothing of my part in the fracas. It was nothing at all.”
“Don't be modest, my friend,” said the cuirassier, laughing, while his comrade dismounted, took the dog under his arm, and made off. “This is one chance in a lifetime. Her Royal Highness will insist on thanking you personally. O, I know Mademoiselle's caprices. And there's your hat, crushed all out of shape. Truly, you are unfortunate with your headgear.”
“It's felt,” said Maurice, slapping it against his leg. “No harm done to the hat. Well, good day to you, Lieutenant, and thanks. I must be off.”
“Nay, nay!” cried the Lieutenant. “Wait a moment. `There is a tide in the affairs of men, which, taken at the flood—' How does that line go? I was educated in England and speak English as I do my mother tongue—”
“Won't you let me go?” asked Maurice. “Look at my clothes.”