“Oh, draw it mild, Usk. What a troubled spirit you are! You know your father begged us not to set foot in Thracia if we could help it.”
“But we can’t help it. It would be a sin and an impossibility not to seize such an opportunity of getting a little fresh air. Look here; we won’t even go into the town—just trot up and down that street leading from the station. There can’t be any danger in that, for I’m not like Philippa. No middle-aged Thracian, coming across me casually, would strike an attitude in the gutter and gasp out, ‘Carlino’s child! Will your Highness graciously permit me the ineffable honour of kissing your hand?’ I might be any one, from a scion of British royalty——”
“To a junior Irish member,” said Mansfield. “I say,” as they walked down the platform, “look at the gorgeous saloon they are adding to our train. Some one very great must be expected.”
“The Thracian royalties, no doubt,” returned Usk, “on their way to this wedding at Molzau. What luck to see them! Philippa will be awfully jealous.”
“No; don’t you remember that we saw they arrived at Molzau some days ago? But it must be some one big, for look at these grave and reverend signiors who are assembling to give him a send-off. Perhaps it’s your uncle.”
“What a lark! I think we will go and annex seats in his carriage, Mansfield. It would be such a spree for the railway people to be trying to get us out, while we persisted that we couldn’t understand what they said.”
“And such a spree for you to be arrested and to have to give your name, after all Lord Caerleon’s warnings. Don’t be an ass, Usk. If you want a walk, come out.”
“Wretched dull street this,” grumbled Usk, as they tramped steadily up and down outside the station. “I suppose it’s too soon to expect the people to have begun their decorations yet for the King’s coming of age. Queer idea for a fellow to come of age at sixteen, isn’t it? I wonder how he feels when he thinks of this day fortnight—whether he is much cocked-up about it. I say, do you happen to have observed that this place is a café? Let’s sit down and refresh the inner man.”
They took their seats at one of the little tables outside, and were welcomed with enthusiasm by the proprietor, who proved able to understand their German and also to make them understand his. Business was slack just at this hour, and he remained to talk to them while they drank their coffee, observing artlessly that it was not often that two honourable foreign gentlemen honoured his house with a visit. The street was beginning to fill now, and Usk and his friend gained a good deal of information as to the national costumes and the callings pursued by their various wearers. But it was not long before their attention was distracted by the appearance of an old man, for whom, as he was drawn slowly along in a bath-chair, the crowd everywhere made way respectfully. His hair and his bushy moustache were snow-white, but the eyes, which flashed a suspicious glance at the two Englishmen, were full of life.
“Who is that?” asked Usk of the landlord, when the old man passed.