Being used to Frederick I do not take him too seriously and made no reply, intending to brush the incident aside, but I found my gaze continually returning to Coleopteron, conscious of that peculiar fascination which attracts one to impending tragedy.  It was evident that he had just left the cafe and was hurrying across the promenade to catch the little steamer which was due to leave in ten minutes for Ofen.  It was also evident to any thinking individual that there must be some extraordinarily urgent reason for his wishing to catch the boat which justified him in taking the awful risks which he was incurring.  The position was full of human interest and I became as intrigued as Frederick.

It seemed that Coleopteron was under some divine protection which enabled him to elude so large a crowd.  One lady stepped right on him, but apparently, by a piece of brilliant footwork, he managed to get in the arch between the sole and the heel and so survive.  Another promenader brushed him with his boot and knocked him over, but he doggedly continued on his way.

I was conscious of a greatly accelerated beating of my heart and noticed that Frederick was perspiring freely.

Half-way across the twenty-foot pavement Coleopteron was sniffed at by a dog and our hearts stopped beating, but again he was saved by the fact that the dog was on a chain and just hadn’t time to eat him before he was dragged after his mistress.

I noticed now that Frederick’s eyes were protruding from his head and that he was muttering to himself.  I too felt the strain telling upon me, A shrill whistle from the little steamer warning passengers to hurry up was immediately responded to by Coleopteron, who increased his speed to the utmost, when suddenly Frederick’s trembling hand caught mine.

“Look!” he said, and, following his gaze, I saw approaching twelve gendarmes.  We did not speak; we did not need to invite each other’s views; our minds had but a single thought—­Coleopteron could not possibly escape twenty-four Hungarian Government boots.

On scurried our little friend and on came the gendarmes.  I was conscious of a feeling of physical sickness, and Frederick groaned aloud.  As the dreadful moment of contact approached we shut our eyes tight and each gripped the other’s hand.  How long we remained like this I cannot tell, for we were both afraid to look and see the my smudge on the pavement indicating a hero’s end; but eventually, by mutual arrangement, we opened our eyes, and then we saw—­not a smudge, but Coleopteron still advancing quite unconcerned.  It was a miracle.

“I can’t stand it any longer,” cried Frederick, to the amazement of those sitting about us outside the cafe, “I shall go mad!” and, leaping up from his seat, he rushed across the promenade and, taking from his pocket a picture-postcard of some Hungarian beauty, he coaxed Coleopteron to walk on to it, then bore him triumphantly back and deposited him upon the leaf of a palm which overhung our table.