She lived for the world, and her
first thought was of self.
He soothed her tenderly.
"Hush--be at rest! There is no injury but what I can repair, nor is
there a creature in sight to have witnessed the accident. Trust in me;
no one shall ever know of this. You shall reach town safely and alone."
And, while he promised, he forgot that he thus pledged his honor to
leave four hours of his life so buried that, however much he needed, he
neither should nor could account for them.
CHAPTER IX.
THE PAINTED BIT.
Baden was at its brightest. The Victoria, the Badischer Hof, the
Stephanie Bauer were crowded. The Kurliste had a dazzling string of
names. Imperial grandeur sauntered in slippers; chiefs, used to be
saluted with "Ave Caesar Imperator," smoked a papelito in peace over
"Galignani." Emperors gave a good-day to ministers who made their
thrones beds of thorns, and little kings elbowed great capitalists who
could have bought them all up in a morning's work in the money market.
Statecraft was in its slippers and diplomacy in its dressing-gown.
Statesmen who had just been outwitting each other at the hazard of
European politics laughed good-humoredly as they laid their gold down on
the color. Rivals who had lately been quarreling over the knotty points
of national frontiers now only vied for a twenty-franc rosebud from the
bouquetiere. Knights of the Garter and Knights of the Golden Fleece,
who had hated each other to deadliest rancor with the length of the
Continent between them, got friends over a mutually good book on the
Rastadt or Foret Noir.
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