"Christian will gladly receive you."
"'Pon my soul, I would be most happy to take charge of your baggage guard."
"Thank you, major—but Willie Lumsden, my own lieutenant, has that duty assigned him."
"I think it would be a very interesting service, notwithstanding the dust, the noise, and the screeching of the wheels at one's ear. Ay, faith!" he continued, looking back, "'tis a dainty dame."
"Who—Herr Major?"
"She, with the dark hair and yellow hood in yonder caleche. Those arms are very like Klosterfiörd's. Surely Karl has not been such a blockhead as to marry the daughter of old Rantzau—Gunhilda, the holiday nun—the prudish little sister of St. Knud?"
"Our pistolier is still in the full enjoyment of single blessedness."
"Then whose ware may she be?"
I did not make any answer.
"Your colonel's lady," continued this incorrigible fellow; "for I do not perceive any other caleche. What! you grow red as a turkeycock! Zounds—it cannot be—is she thine? my dear fellow, I congratulate you. Happy dog! I should like to be in your shoes for six hours. Is she Carlstein's daughter? Faith! she turned the heads of half the Viennese."