Gretchen sought the kitchen and found an apron and cap. These
half-crowns were fine things to pick up occasionally, for it was only
upon occasions that she worked at the Black Eagle.

In an obscure corner sat the young vintner. He had finished his supper
and was watching and scrutinizing all who came in. His face brightened
as he saw the goose-girl; he would have known that head anywhere,
whether he saw the face or not. He wanted to go to her at once, but knew
this action would not be wise.

In the very corner itself, his back to the vintner's, and nothing but
the wall to look at, was the old man in tatters and patches, the
mountaineer who possessed a Swiss watch and gave golden coins to
goose-girls. He was busily engaged in gnawing the leg of a chicken.
Between times he sipped his beer, listening.

Carmichael had forgotten some papers that day. He had dined early at the
hotel and returned at once to the consulate. He was often a visitor at
the Black Eagle. The beer was sweet and cool. So, having pocketed his
papers, he was of a mind to carry on a bit of badinage with Fräu Bauer.
As he stepped into the big hall, in his evening clothes, he was as
conspicuous as a passing ship at sea.

"Good evening, Fräu-Wirtin."

"Good evening, your Excellency." She was quite fluttered when this fine
young man spoke to her. He was the only person who ever caused her
embarrassment, even though temporary. There was always a whimsical smile
on his lips and in his eyes, and Fräu Bauer never knew exactly how to
take him. "What is on your mind?" brightly.