“Patience, Count,” said the Prince, shaking off the hand which the Count had placed upon his shoulder.  “Decidedly, this fellow is worth consideration.  Since we have no swords, sir, and they seem to be woman’s weapons these days, we will use pistols.  Of course, you have come prepared.  It is a fine time for shooting.  This first light of twilight gives us equal advantage.  Will it be at ten or twenty paces?  I dare say, if we stand at twenty, in the centre of the road, we shall have a good look at each other before we separate indefinitely.”

“Your Highness insists?” murmured the Count.

“I not only insist, I command.”  The Prince took off his coat and waistcoat and deposited them on the grass at the side of the road.  Hillars did likewise.  There was a pleased expression on his face.  “I do believe, Count,” laughed the Prince, “this fellow expects to kill me.  Now, the pistols.”

“If you will permit me,” said the innkeeper, taking an oblong box from under his coat.  “These are excellent weapons.”

The Prince laughed.  “I suppose, innkeeper, if the result is disastrous to me, it will please you?”

The innkeeper was not lacking in courtesy.  “It would be a pleasure, I assure you.  There are certain reasons why I cannot fight you myself.”

“To be sure.”

“It would be too much like murder,” continued the innkeeper.  “Your hand would tremble so that you would miss me at point-blank.  There goes the last of the sun.  We must hurry.”

With a grimace the Count accepted the box and took out the pistols.

“They are old-fashioned,” he said.

“A deal like the innkeeper’s morals,” supplemented the Prince.

“But effective,” said the innkeeper.

The Count scowled at the old fellow, who met the look with phlegm.  As an innkeeper he might be an inferior, but as a second at a duel he was an equal.  It was altogether a different matter.

The Count carefully loaded the weapons, the innkeeper watching him attentively.  In his turn he examined them.

“Very good,” he said.

The paces were then measured out.  During this labor the Prince gazed indifferently toward the west.  The aftermath of the sun glowed on the horizon.  The Prince shaded his eyes for a spell.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “I believe the Princess is approaching.  At any rate here comes the coach.  Let us suspend hostilities till she has passed.”

A few minutes later the coach came rumbling along in a whirlwind of dust.  The stoical cavalrymen kept on without so much as a glance at the quartet standing at the side of the road.  Hillars looked after the vehicle till it was obscured from view.  Then he shook himself out of the dream into which he had fallen.  He was pale now, and his eyebrows were drawn together as the Count held out the pistol.

“Ah, yes!” he said, as though he had forgotten.  “There goes the woman who will never become your wife.”