“Do you mean to say they are going to afford us no better accommodation than this?” I demanded.
“So it seems,” replied the dark young man. “Fortunately, however, the night is warm, the skies are clear, and to commune with the stars is reputed to be elevating for the spirit.”
Our officer had vanished into the castle, leaving us a corporal and three privates as a guard of honour. We, the prisoners, gathered together in the middle of the courtyard, and held a sort of impromptu indignation meeting. The women were especially eloquent in their complaints. Two of these I recognized as having been among my neighbours of the door-step, and we exchanged compassionate glances. The other four were oldish women, who wore caps and aprons, and looked like servants.
“Cooks,” whispered my comrade. “Some good burghers will be kept waiting for their suppers. Oh, what a lark!”
Our convention finally broke up with a resolution to the effect that, though we had been most shabbily treated, there was nothing to be done.
“We must suffer and be still. Let us make ourselves as comfortable as we can, and seek distraction in an interchange of ideas,” proposed my mate. He seated himself upon a barrel that lay lengthwise against the castle wall, and motioned to me to place myself beside him.
“You are English?” he inquired, in an abrupt German way.
“No, I am American.”
“Ah, it is the same thing. A tourist?”
“You think it is the same thing?” I questioned sadly. “You little know. But——yes, I am a tourist.”