The Prince also went to his room, and I remained where I was, deeming that for the present my duty was done.

The servant of the man whose coat I wore stood with another servitor close at hand—­indeed, many of all ranks stood about.

“That is the fellow,” I heard one say, tauntingly, meaning me to hear—­“peacocking it there in my master’s coat!”

His companion laughed contumeliously, at which the passion within me suddenly stirred.  I gave one of them the palm of my hand, and as the other fell hastily back my foot took him.

“What ho, there!  No quarrelling among the lackeys!” cried Von Reuss, insolently, from the other side of the room.

“Were you, by any chance, speaking to me?” said I, politely, looking over at him.

“Why, yes, fellow!” he said.  “If you squabble with the waiting-men concerning cast-off clothes, you had better do it in the stables, where, as you say, your own wardrobe is kept.”

“Sir,” said I, “the coat I wear, I wear by the command of your Prince.  It shall be immediately returned to you when the Prince permits me to go off duty.  In the mean time, pray take notice that I am Captain Hugo Gottfried, officer-in-waiting to the Prince Karl of Plassenburg, and that my sword is wholly at your service.”

“You are,” retorted Von Reuss, “the son of my uncle Casimir’s Hereditary Executioner, and one day you may be mine.  Let that be sufficient honor for you.”

“That I may be yours is the only part of my father’s hereditary office I covet!” said I, pointedly.

And certainly I had him there, for immediately he turned on his heel and would have walked away.

But this I could not permit.  So I strode sharply after him, and seizing him by his embroidered shoulder-strap, I wheeled him about.

“But, sir,” said I, “you have insulted an officer of the Prince.  Will you answer for that with your sword, or must I strike you on the face each time I meet you to quicken your sense of honor?”

Before he had time to answer the Prince came in.

“What, quarrelling already, young Spitfire!” he cried.  “I made you my orderly—­not my disorderly.”

Von Reuss and I stood blankly enough, looking away from one another.

“What was the quarrel?” asked the Prince, when he had seated himself at table.

I looked to Von Reuss to explain.  For indeed I was somewhat awed to think that thus early in my new career I had embroiled myself with the nephew of Duke Casimir, even though, like myself, he was in exile and dependent upon, the liberality of Prince Karl.

But, since he did not speak, I made bold to say:  “Sire, the Count von Reuss taunted me with wearing a borrowed coat, and called me a servitor, because by birth I am the son of the Hereditary Executioner of the Wolfmark.  So I told him I was an officer of your household, and that my sword was much at his service.”