is anger abated
none.

"You're a fine example of a soldier! Are you mad to attack a man this
way? They will break you for this, or my name's not Carmichael. You
couldn't leave her in peace, could you? Well, those two kisses will
prove expensive."

"I shall kill you for this!"

"Bah! I have fought more times than you have years to your counting,"
with good Yankee spirit. "But if you think I'll waste my time in
fighting a duel with you, you're up the wrong tree."

"Go to the devil!"

"Not just at present; there's too much for me to do. But this is my
advice to you: apply for a leave of absence and take the waters of
Wiesbaden. They are good for choleric dispositions. Now, I return the
compliment: go to the devil yourself, only choose a route that will not
cross mine. That's all!"

Gretchen and the vintner had vanished. Carmichael agreed that it was the
best thing for them to do. The vintner was no coward, but he was
discreet. Somebody might ask questions. So Carmichael returned to the
consulate, equally indifferent what the colonel did or where he went. Of
the vintner he thought: "The hot-headed young fool, to risk his life
like that!" He would see later what he meant in regard to Gretchen. Poor
little goose-girl! They would find that there was one man interested
enough in her welfare to stand by her. His hands yet stung from the
contact of wood against steel, and his hair was damp at the edges. This
was a bit of old war-times.

"Are you hurt, Excellency?" asked the clerk solicitously.

"Hurt?"

"Yes. I heard a woman scream and ran to the window. It was a good fight.
But that fellow-_ach!_ To run away and leave you, an outsider, to fight
his battle!"

"He would have been sliced in two if I hadn't come to the front. A
hop-pole isn't half bad. I'll bet that lady's man has a bad arm for some
time to come. As for the vintner, he had good reasons for taking to his
heels."

"Good reasons?" But there was a sly look in the clerk's eyes.

"No questions, if you please. And tell no one, mind, what has taken
place."

"Very well, Excellency." And quietly the clerk returned to his table of
figures. But later he intended to write a letter, unsigned, to his
serene highness.

Carmichael, scowling, undertook to answer his mail, but not with any
remarkable brilliancy or coherency.

And in this condition of mind Grumbach found him; Grumbach, accompanied
by the old clock-mender from across the way, and a Gipsy Carmichael