“I have told him who I am.”

“Was it wise?”

“Hermann sleeps soundly; he will talk neither in his sleep nor in his waking hours.  He has forgiven me.”

“For what?” thoughtlessly.

“The time for explanations has not yet come, Captain.”

“Pardon me, Grumbach; I was not thinking.  But I came to bring you the invitation to the military ball.”

The broad white envelope, emblazoned with the royal arms, fascinated Hans, not by its resplendency, but by the possibilities which it afforded.

“Thank you; it was very good of you.”

“It was a pleasure, comrade.  What do you say to an hour or two at the Black Eagle?  We’ll drown our sorrows together.”

“Have you any sorrows, Captain?”

“Who hasn’t?  Life is a patchwork with the rounding-out pieces always missing.  Come along.  I’m lonesome to-night.”

“So am I,” said Hans.

The Black Eagle was lively as usual; and there were some familiar faces.  The vintner was there and so was Gretchen.  Carmichael hailed her.

“This is my last night here, Herr Carmichael,” she said.

“Somebody has left you a fortune?” There was a jest in Carmichael’s eyes.

“Yes,” replied Gretchen, her lips unsmiling.

“The poor lady who lived on the top floor of my grandmother’s house was rich.  She left me a thousand crowns.”

Carmichael and Grumbach:  “A thousand crowns!”

“And what will you do with all that money?” asked Hans.

“I am going to study music.”

“I thought you were going to be married soon,” said Carmichael.

“Surely.  But that will not hinder.  I shall have enough for two.”  Gretchen saw no reason why she should tell them of the princess’ generosity.

“But how does he take it?” asked Carmichael, with a motion of his head toward the vintner, half hidden behind a newspaper.

“He doesn’t like the idea at all.  But the Herr Direktor says that I am a singer, and that some day I shall be rich and famous.”

“When that day comes I shall be there with many a brava!”

The vintner, who sat near enough to catch a bit of the conversation, scowled over the top of his paper.  Carmichael eyed him mischievously.  Gretchen picked up her coppers and went away.

“A beautiful girl,” said Hans abstractedly.  “She might be Hebe with no trouble at all.”

Carmichael admired Hans.  There was always some new phase in the character of this quiet and unassuming German.  A plumber who was familiar with the classics was not an ordinary person.  He raised his stein and Hans extended his.  After that they smoked, with a word or two occasionally in comment.

At that day there was only one newspaper in Dreiberg.  It was a dry and solid sheet, of four pages, devoted to court news, sciences, and agriculture.  The vintner presently smoothed down the journal, opened his knife, and cut out a paragraph.  Carmichael, following his movements slyly, wondered what he had seen to interest him to the point of preservation.  The vintner crushed the remains of the sheet into a ball and dropped it to the floor.  Then he finished his beer, rose, and proceeded toward the stairs leading to the rathskeller below.  Down these he disappeared.