“Will you return to America?” she queried.

“I shall idle in Paris for a while.  I have an idea that there will be war one of these days.”

“And which side will you take?”

“I should be a traitor if I fought for France; I should be an ingrate if I fought against her.  I should be a spectator, a neutral.”

“That would expose you to danger without the right to strike a blow in defense.”

“If I were hurt it would be but an accident.  War correspondents would run a hundred more risks than I. Oh, I should be careful; I know war too well not to be.”

“All this is strange talk for a man who is a confessed lover.”

“Pardon me!” his eyes rather empty.

“Why, you tell me there is a woman; and all your talk is about war and danger.  These are opposites; please explain.”

“There is a woman, but she will not hinder me in any way.  She will, in fact, know nothing about it.”

“You are a strange lover.  I never read anything like you in story-books.  Forgive me!  I am thoughtless.  The subject may be painful to you.”

The horses began to pull.  Under normal circumstances Carmichael would not have dismounted, but his horse had carried him many miles that morning, and he was a merciful rider.  In the war days often had his life depended upon the care of his horse.

“You have been riding hard?”

“No, only far.”

“I do not believe that there is a finer horseman in all Ehrenstein than yourself.”

“Your highness is very good to say that.”  Why had he not gone on instead of waiting at the fork?

Within a few hundred yards of the gates he mounted again.  And then he saw a lonely figure sitting on the parapet.  He would have recognized that square form anywhere.  And he welcomed the sight of it.

“Your Highness, do you see that man yonder, on the parapet?  We fought in the same cavalry.  He is covered with scars.  Not one man in a thousand would have gone through what he did and lived.”

“Is he an American?”

“By adoption.  And may I ask a favor of your highness?”

“Two!” merrily.

“May I present him?  It will be the joy of his life.”

“Certainly.  All brave men interest me.”

Grumbach rose up, uncovered, thinking that the riders were going to pass him.  But to his surprise his friend Carmichael stopped his horse and beckoned to him.

“Herr Grumbach,” said Carmichael, “her serene highness desires me to present you.”

Hans was stricken dumb.  He knew of no greater honor.

“Mr. Carmichael,” she said in English, “tells me that you fought with him in the American war?”

“Yes, Highness.”

She plied him with a number of questions; how many battles they had fought in, how many times they had been wounded, how they lived in camp, and so forth; and which was the more powerful engine of war, the infantry or the cavalry.