He almost dropped as the Archduke’s hand fell on his shoulder.
“Scartman,” said he kindly, yet incisively, “doubtless your mind is much too occupied to remember everything that happens here—but let me suggest that it would be well even to make a special effort to forget what has occurred this afternoon. I have known such forgetfulness to merit special reward.”
The landlord looked up in bewildered joy.
“But Her Highness, sir—she will not——”
“Tush, man,” Armand interrupted, “I’ll answer for the Regent.”
The old man began to cry, and through his tears he groped for the Archduke’s hand and kissed the gauntlet fervently.
“God bless Your Highness!” he said—and was still repeating it when the latter passed the gate.
The Archduke rode slowly along the line of Lancers, scrutinizing every man as he went; then motioned the officers to him.
“Messieurs,” he said, “my compliments on your troop.—Captain Hertz, you may return to barracks.”
Hertz saluted, faced his men and raised his sword. And Armand, galloping down the road, turned in saddle and with his cap answered the wild cheer they sent after him.