The charming young woman turned round and gave me an angelic glance, which, for some reason or other, reduced me to extreme confusion.
"Thank you, dear Count, for giving me an opportunity of knowing Monsieur Vignerte otherwise than by reputation. Monsieur, let me hope we shall meet again without having to wait for so special an occasion. But I'm told you work so hard."
It was not the first time I was to learn how much more tactful distinguished imbeciles are than people of reputed intelligence. Count de Marçais gave me further proof of this when he answered for me:
"No offence meant, dear friend, but perhaps it is easier to gain admittance to the castle library than to your affections!"
Melusine's eyelids quivered imperceptibly.
"No offence taken, I assure you," she rejoined, smiling. "Monsieur Vignerte is a true scholar, and will tell you that the very best libraries are those to which admission is most difficult. Isn't that so, Herr Beck?" She added, turning to the old savant, who had just arrived and was lost in astonishment at the troops concentrated at the two ends of the parade-ground.
I admired the surpassing skill with which she turned a conversation verging on delicate ground.
"You are unquestionably right, Fräulein," my old colleague hastened to reply, with the utter ingenuousness of the man of learning. "Monsieur Vignerte knows only too well that the whole library, manuscripts included, is at his disposal."
"Hush!" said Fräulein von Graffenfried, turning round. "Here's the King."
A group of horsemen had just appeared opposite us, on the other side of the square, in the courtyard of the castle. There was immediately a volley of sharp commands. Cavalry and infantry stiffened to attention. With a noise like sheets of metal tearing, bayonets were fixed to the muzzles of rifles. Three thousand swords flashed out, three thousand tongues of lightning.