"Do you know where the American consulate is?" he asked low, so that none but Gretchen and the vintner heard.
"Yes," said the vintner, blushing with shame.
"I live above the agency."
"Good! I shall expect to see you in the morning."
But the vintner was determined that he shouldn't. He would be at work in the royal vineyards on the morrow.
"To-morrow?" repeated Gretchen, to whom this by-play was a blank. "Why should he wish to see you?"
"Who knows? Let us be going. They are pressing us too close to the gates."
"Very well," acquiesced Gretchen, somewhat disappointed. She wanted to see all there was to be seen.
"It is half-after ten," he added, as if to put forward some logical excuse for leaving at this moment.
A man followed them all the way to the Krumerweg.
Carmichael threw himself eagerly into the gaiety of the dance. Never had he seen the ball-room so brilliant with color. Among all those there his was the one somber dress. The white cambric stock and the frill in his shirt were the only gay touches. It was not his fault: the rules of the service compelled him thus to dress. But he needed no brass or cloth of gold. There was not a male head among all the others to compare with his.
He was an accomplished waltzer, after the manner of that day, when one went round and round like some mechanical toy wound up. Strauss and Waldteufel tingled his feet; and he whirled ambassadors' wives till they were breathless and ambassadors' daughters till they no longer knew or cared where they were. He was full of subtle deviltry this night, with an undercurrent of malice toward every one and himself in particular. This would be the last affair of the kind for him, and he wanted a full memory of it. Between times he exchanged a jest or two with the chancellor or talked battles with old Ducwitz; twice he caught the grand duke's eye, but there was only a friendly nod from that august personage, no invitation to talk. Thrice, while on the floor, her highness passed him; but there was never a smile, never a glance. He became careless and reckless. He would seek her and talk to her and smile at her even if the duke threw a regiment in between. The Irish blood in him burned to-night, capable of any folly. He no longer danced. He waited and watched; and it was during one of these waits that he saw Grumbach in the gallery.
"Now, what the devil is the Dutchman doing with a pair of opera-glasses!"