offer you these verses on which I was but now engaged. I am so little of a poet, and was so ill inspired by prison bars, that they have some claim to be at least a curiosity.’
The Colonel’s countenance lighted as he took the paper; the silver spectacles were hurriedly replaced. ‘Ha!’ he said, ‘Alexandrines, the tragic metre. I shall cherish this, your Highness, like a relic; no more suitable offering, although I say it, could be made. “Dieux de l’immense plaine et des vastes forêts.” Very good,’ he said, ‘very good indeed! “Et du geolier lui-même apprendre des leçons.” Most handsome, begad!’
‘Come, Governor,’ cried the Countess, ‘you can read his poetry when we are gone. Open your grudging portals.’
‘I ask your pardon,’ said the Colonel. ‘To a man of my character and tastes, these verses, this handsome reference—most moving, I assure you. Can I offer you an escort?’
‘No, no,’ replied the Countess. ‘We go incogniti, as we arrived. We ride together; the Prince will take my servant’s horse. Hurry and privacy, Herr Oberst, that is all we seek.’ And she began impatiently to lead the way.
But Otto had still to bid farewell to Dr. Gotthold; and the Governor following, with his spectacles in one hand and the paper in the
