He bowed with rather unusual grace, for one of his appearance and calling.
“Perfectly, madame—does madame think I look so like a fool?”
She surveyed him an instant.
“No, my good man, I don’t,” and closed the door; “but I wouldn’t care to tell you what you do look like,” she ended.
Going over to the window, she fixed the curtain so as to permit her to see in front of the house, and then, removing her veil, she drew out a tiny mirror and deftly touched to place the hair that was disarranged. As she finished, she heard horses approaching, and she saw, through the open gateway, a sudden commotion among the Lancers who were lounging at ease by the roadside, their mounts picketed under the trees. She knew that her man was coming.
A sergeant ran in and said a word to Hertz who, free now of his dust and anger, was sitting on the steps with Purkitz, hoping to get a glimpse of the face behind the veil, and staring at the windows with calm persistency.
“My God!” she heard Hertz exclaim, as both sprang up, and, frantically buttoning tunics and drawing on gloves, ran out into the road and swung to horse. There was a snap of commands, a stamping of hoofs, and the lances rose high above the wall in a line of fluttering pennons; they dipped, and the next moment the Archduke and the Regent’s Adjutant drew up before the gate.
The former raised his hand, and Hertz rode forward and saluted.
“How long have you been here, Captain Hertz?” he asked.
“Since a few minutes after three, sir.”