understand their intricate thoughts."

"Are there such men?" asked Wogan.

"Men who love, such as Count Königsmarck and yourself."

Wogan held up his hand with a cry.

"Count, such men, we are told, are the blindest of all. Did not
Königsmarck prove it? As for myself, not even in that respect can I be
ranked with Königsmarck. I am a mere man-at-arms, whose love-making is a
clash of steel."

"But to-night--this risk you ran; you told me it was for a woman."

"For a woman, yes. For love of a woman, no, no, no!" he exclaimed with
surprising violence. Then he rose from his chair.

"But I have stayed my time," said he, "you have never had a more
grateful guest. I beg you to believe it."

Count Otto barely heard the words. He was absorbed in the fanciful
dreams born of many long solitary evenings, and like most timid and
uncommunicative men he made his confidence in a momentary enthusiasm to
a stranger.

"Königsmarck spoke for an hour, mentioning no names, so that I who from
my youth have lived apart could not make a guess. He spoke with a deal
of passion; it seemed that one hour his life was paradise and the next a
hell. Even as he spoke he was one instant all faith and the next all