There was rather a sad expression in Gretchen’s eyes.  She understood to a fuller extent than I what was likely to follow when it was found that I had misrepresented myself.  I cursed the folly which had led me to say that I was English.  And I swore at the innkeeper for meddling.  As I left the room I smiled at Gretchen, but she did not answer it.  Perhaps I was gone five minutes.  In that time I made up my mind to show the passports, and trust to luck for the rest.  When I came back Gretchen had engrossed their attention.  They took no notice of me.  I have never understood how it came about, but all at once the lieutenant bent forward and kissed Gretchen on the cheek.  She started back with a cry, then looked at me.  That swift glance told me what to do.  I took the lieutenant by the collar and flung him into the corner.  The surprise on his face was not to be equaled.  Then, as he rose to his feet, the veins in his neck swelled with rage.

“I’ll pay you for that, you meddling beef-eater!” he roared.

“Don’t mention it,” said I, with an assumption of blandness which I did not feel.  “That was simply gratuitous.  It is a sample of what I shall do to you if you do not immediately ask this lady’s pardon for the gross insult you have just offered her.”

“Insult!  To kiss a common barmaid an insult!” he yelled, now purpling.  “Why—­why—­what is this woman to you—­this tavern wench, this—­”

“Be careful,” I warned.

Gretchen was calmly wiping her cheek; but her eyes were like polished emeralds.

“You came here, I believe,” said I, “to see if my passports were proper.”

“Damn you and your passports!  Are you a gentleman?”

“Would you recognize one if you saw him?” I laughed.

“Can you fight?”

“Certainly,” said I, thinking of the weapons nature in her kindness had given to me.

“Good!  Otto, have the horses brought around.  We will cut for the barracks and get the colonel’s weapons—­the rapiers.”

The word “rapier” sent an icy chill up my spine.  A duel!

“The devil!” said I, under my breath.  I knew less about fencing than I did about aerial navigation, which was precious little.  The fact that Gretchen was now smiling aggravated the situation.  I could not help the shudder.  Why, the fellow would make a sieve out of me!

“Will you look at my passports now?” I asked.  “You may not have the opportunity again.”

“Your passports from now on will be void,” was the retort.  “But I shall be pleased to give you a passport to the devil.  I shall kill you,” complacently.

“Think of my family,” said I, a strange humor taking possession of me.

“You should have thought of your family before you struck me that blow,” he replied.

My laughter was genuine; even Gretchen smuggled a smile.  The lieutenant had taken my remark in all seriousness.