placed an extremely high estimate. It was Willy Snyders the kind-hearted
who, soon after a chance meeting with his fellow-Silesian, dragged him
from his wretched quarters, not without much coaxing, and transferred him
to the club-house.

"Wait and see the way that lunatic Franck is going to behave," said Willy
in his peculiar voice, in which there was a blending of the guttural and
nasal tones of American English with the Austrian German accent of his
friends. "He snaps like a mad dog. He's enough to make you split your
sides laughing--that is, if the perverse creature comes at all and
doesn't have dinner served in his room."

As a matter of fact, Franck was the first to enter the dining-room.
Willy's tongue kept wagging, while the eccentric merely shook hands
limply with Frederick and said nothing. Though the three were countrymen,
Franck's appearance--like Willy, he was wearing evening dress--added a
touch of embarrassment where there had been perfect unconstraint; and
though Willy had lent Frederick a suit, and a tailor had already been
ordered, Frederick expressed regret at not being appropriately dressed.

"Yes, Ritter's a great stickler for form," Willy observed. "Every evening
we have to present the appearance of at least attaches to an embassy."

Petronilla entered and explained in wordy Italian that the poor, dear,
sweet little signorina had fallen asleep in bed and was breathing quietly
and regularly.

"You could shoot off a cannon, bum! bum! Outside her window, and she
wouldn't wake up," she said. Then holding out a newspaper, she asked
whether the gentlemen had heard of the sinking of the _Roland_ and the
few survivors. When Willy, with his dilating nostrils and his
characteristic half-serious, half-comic expression, introduced Frederick
as one of those survivors, she burst into a noisy laugh, which vastly
amused two of the three Silesians. When convinced that Willy was not
teasing, she stared at Frederick speechlessly, burst into tears, and
kissed his hands. Then she ran out.

Soon after, Lobkowitz entered, a tall, quiet man. He had heard of
Frederick's recent experience, and greeted him with simple cordiality.

"Ritter has just come in his cart," he said.

They looked out of the window. Frederick saw an elegant two-wheeled
dog-cart with a handsome coachman in black livery preparing to drive off,
while a thoroughbred grey, feeling the tightening of the reins, was
rearing and plunging in the shafts.