My neighbor must have thought me very inattentive; but I felt that I could not lose a word of Mr. Brent's conversation. The vestibule (or "Halle," as they called it), where we went after dinner, used to be occupied by the _Corps du Garde._ It had vaulted ceilings and great oak beams, and was filled with hunting implements of all ages arranged in groups on the walls very artistically; there were cross-bows, fencing-swords, masks, guns (old and new), pistols, etc. Mr. Brent was very much impressed by this collection, gazed at the specimens with sparkling admiration, and remarked to the governess, who was always at his elbow, "I never saw such a lot of things [meaning the weapons] outside of a shindy." "What is a shindy?" inquired the governess, always anxious to improve her knowledge of the language. "Why, don't you know what a shindy is? No? Well, it's a free fight, where you kill promiscuous." "Gott im Himmel!" almost screamed the terrified damsel. "Do you mean to say that you have killed any one otherwise than in a duel?" "I can't deny that I have killed a few," Mr. Brent said, cordially, "but never in cold blood." "How dreadful!" his listener cried. "But you see, over there," pointing with his cigar into the vague (toward Colorado), "if a man insults you, you must kill him then and there, and you must always be heeled." "Heeled!" she repeated, puzzled. "Do they always get well?" Neither understood. Probably she thinks to this day that a shindy is an exceptionally good hospital. The Count said, "This room is a very good specimen of Renaissance style." Mr. Brent replied, "I don't know what 'renny-saunce' means, but this room is the style I like"; and added, "It's bully; and to-morrow I'd like to take a snap-shot of it and of all the company to show mother, if [with his charming smile] you will let me." "You shall take that and any other thing you like," said the Count. "How long do you intend staying in Europe?" "That depends," answered Mr. Brent. "I came across the pond because the doctor said I needed rest and change." "I hope that you have had them both," the Count said, kindly. "I got the change, all right; but the hotel-keepers got the rest, as the story goes." Every one laughed and voted the young and clever American perfectly delightful. The Countess extended her jeweled hand when she bade him good night, the hand that always had been held with reverence and pressed gently to lips, and felt it seized in a grip which made her wince.