Gretchen came in, a little better dressed than in the daytime, the change consisting of coarse stockings and shoes of leather, of which she was correspondingly proud.

“Will you want me, Fraeu-Wirtin, for a little while to-night?” she asked.

“Till nine.  Half a crown as usual.”

Gretchen sought the kitchen and found an apron and cap.  These half-crowns were fine things to pick up occasionally, for it was only upon occasions that she worked at the Black Eagle.

In an obscure corner sat the young vintner.  He had finished his supper and was watching and scrutinizing all who came in.  His face brightened as he saw the goose-girl; he would have known that head anywhere, whether he saw the face or not.  He wanted to go to her at once, but knew this action would not be wise.

In the very corner itself, his back to the vintner’s, and nothing but the wall to look at, was the old man in tatters and patches, the mountaineer who possessed a Swiss watch and gave golden coins to goose-girls.  He was busily engaged in gnawing the leg of a chicken.  Between times he sipped his beer, listening.

Carmichael had forgotten some papers that day.  He had dined early at the hotel and returned at once to the consulate.  He was often a visitor at the Black Eagle.  The beer was sweet and cool.  So, having pocketed his papers, he was of a mind to carry on a bit of badinage with Fraeu Bauer.  As he stepped into the big hall, in his evening clothes, he was as conspicuous as a passing ship at sea.

“Good evening, Fraeu-Wirtin.”

“Good evening, your Excellency.”  She was quite fluttered when this fine young man spoke to her.  He was the only person who ever caused her embarrassment, even though temporary.  There was always a whimsical smile on his lips and in his eyes, and Fraeu Bauer never knew exactly how to take him.  “What is on your mind?” brightly.

“Many things.  You haven’t aged the least since last I saw you.”

“Which was day before yesterday!”

“Not any further back than that?”

“Not an hour.”

She turned to make change, while Carmichael’s eyes roved in search of a vacant chair.  He saw but one.

“The goose-girl?” he murmured suddenly.  “Is Gretchen one of your waitresses?”

“She comes in once in a while.  She’s a good girl and I’m glad to help her,” Fraeu Bauer replied.

“I do not recollect having seen her here before.”

“That is because you rarely come at night.”

Gretchen carried a tray upon which steamed a vegetable stew.  She saw Carmichael and nodded.

“I shall be at yonder table,” he said indicating the vacant chair.  “Will you bring me a tankard of brown Ehrensteiner?”

“At once, Herr.”

Carmichael made his way to the table.  Across the room he had not recognized the vintner, but now he remembered.  He had crowded him against a wall two or three days before.