"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."
"That shall be decided at once," was the retort of the Prince.