in a dozen
different versions, but, as nearly as I could learn, he had, in the
disguise of a peasant, visited the Prussian camp on the evening
preceding a battle and had acted the fool with such a perfection of
art as to convince the enemy of his harmlessness. Before morning,
however, he had furnished the Danish commander with important
intelligence, thereby preventing the success of a surprise movement
which the Prussians were about to execute. In return for this service
he had been knighted on the battle-field, the order of Dannebrog
having been bestowed upon him.

One circumstance that probably intensified the charm which Dannevig
exerted upon the social circles of the Danish capital was the mystery
which shrouded his origin. There were vague whisperings of lofty
parentage, and even royal names were hinted at, always, of course, in
the strictest privacy. The fact that he hailed from France (though no
one could say it for a certainty) and still had a Danish name and
spoke Danish like a native, was in itself looked upon as an
interesting anomaly. Then again, his easy, aristocratic bearing and
his finely carved face suggested all manner of romantic
possibilities; his long, delicate hands, the unobtrusive perfection of
his toilet and the very texture of his handkerchiefs told plainly
enough that he had been familiar with high life from the cradle. His
way of living, too, was the subject of much curious comment. Without
being really extravagant, he still spent money in a free-and-easy
fashion, and always gave one the impression of having unbounded
resources, though no one could tell exactly what they were. The only
solution of the riddle was that he might have access to the treasury
of some mighty man who, for reasons which perhaps would not bear
publicity, felt called upon to support him.

I had heard his name abundantly discussed in academical and social
circles and was thoroughly familiar with the hypothetical part of his
history before chance led me to make his personal acquaintance. He had
then already lost some of his first lustre of novelty, and the
professional yawners at club windows were inclining to the opinion
that "he was a good enough fellow, but not made of stuff that was apt
to last." But in the afternoon tea-parties, where ladies of fashion
met and gently murdered each other's reputations, an allusion to him
was still the signal for universal commotion; his very name would be
greeted with clouds of ecs