It was the longest and most sensible speech he had as yet heard from her lips. He had not suspected the existence of so much thoughtful wisdom behind that low brow, in its frame of wild hair. "You are right, Regina," he replied. "For your sake I must forbear from provoking them." He saw in the moonlight a dark flush suffuse her face. "For my sake, _Herr_?" she said hesitatingly. "I don't quite understand what you mean, _Herr_." "Oh, well, never mind," he answered evasively. "What I wanted to ask you, Regina, was--are you satisfied in my service? can I do anything to make you more comfortable?" She stared at him in dumb amazement. "You mustn't think, Regina," he went on, "that I am unfriendly. My mind is occupied with many things, and I prefer to be quite alone with my troubles. So if I don't speak to you often you will understand how it is." Her eyes drooped. Her hands fumbled for the balustrade as if seeking a support, then the next moment she turned, and leaving her basket in the lurch, scampered off, as if driven by furies. "Strange creature!" he muttered, as he looked after her. "I must be kinder to her. She deserves it." Then he leant over the balustrade again, and gazing into the silver water fancied he saw growing there a garden of lilies and crimson roses. CHAPTER IX Lieutenant Merckel was far from being pleased at the course events had taken on the day of the funeral. He called the Schrandeners poltroons and old women, and declared they were unworthy ever to have worn the king's uniform. When some one ventured to ask why he had not shown himself in it to the procession, and had left the mob leaderless at a critical moment, he replied that that was a different matter altogether: he was an officer, and as such bound only to draw his sword in the service of the king. The Schrandeners, not accustomed to logical argument, accepted the explanation, and promised to retrieve their reputation the next time the opportunity offered itself. But this did not satisfy Felix Merckel. "Father," he said, late one evening when the old landlord was counting the cash taken during the day, "I can't bear to think that scoundrelly cur holds the rank of Royal Prussian officer as I do. I am ashamed to have served with him. Our army doesn't want to be associated with people like him. It drags the cockade through the gutter, not to speak of the sword-knot. I know what I'll do; I'll call him out and shoot him." He stretched his legs on the settle, twisting his cavalry moustache with a bland smile. The old man let fall, in horrified dismay, a handful of silver that he was counting, and the coins rolled away into the cracks of the floor. "Felixchen," he said, "you really mustn't drink so much of that Wacholder brandy. It's good enough for customers, but you, Felixchen, shall have a bottle of light wine to-morrow, and perhaps some of them will follow your example, and so it won't cost me anything."