To Ruperta alone, since her experience was narrowed to one phase of life, did their reception seem short of wonderful.
“Everything now,” said Ludovic, “depends upon our host; who he is, and whether he is likely to recognize us. Supposing that he does not, you and I, Princess, must pass as brother and sister; Countess Minna and Captain von Ompertz are our friends and travelling companions. Let us hope our incognito may not be suspected.”
As he spoke, the door was opened by the old steward, who, with a bow—for those were days of ceremonial—ushered their host into the room. A man as singular as was his dwelling. He seemed the very incarnation of power, with his broad chest, massive throat and strongly marked features. His hair and beard were black, his complexion swarthy, but his eyes, curiously, were light blue. He was plainly dressed, but a certain dignity of look and movement gave him an air of distinction. He bowed, and greeted the travellers with almost an excess of welcome.
“I should be very sorry to hear of your mishap,” he said, “were it not for the pleasure it gives me to be your host to-night.”
His voice, Ludovic thought, was the deepest he had ever heard. There was, too, a peculiar sustained vibration in it, like the deep pedal notes of an organ.
“We must consider ourselves very fortunate,” Ludovic added, after a word of thanks, “to have found a shelter so splendid and unexpected in this place.”
Their host laughed, showing, in contrast to his black beard, a row of dead white teeth. “I do not wonder at your surprise,” he said. “But I love a mountain life, its wildness and its sport. At the same time, sense of comfort and luxury in one’s home enhances by contrast one’s enjoyment of these surroundings.”
“Naturally,” Ludovic agreed, his opinion of their singular host still hanging in doubt.
“Many people pretend to love a mountain life,” the other continued, “but they make themselves woefully uncomfortable, and soon fly back to towns and civilization. I may, perhaps, claim to have the courage of my fancy.”
The man’s manner was perfect, far more refined than his appearance would have suggested, yet to Ludovic’s keen perception there was something about him which made him doubt the depth, the reality of his frankness.