That night was long, though we accomplished a lot of talking: cold it seemed, too, though we were in midsummer. I dozed a little, with the stone wall of the castle for my pillow, half-conscious all the while that Sebastian Roch was carrying on a bantering flirtation with the two young girls. At daybreak our guard was changed. At six o’clock we were visited by a dapper little lieutenant, who looked us over, asked our names and other personal questions, scratched his chin for a moment reflectively, and finally, with an air of inspiration, bade us begone. The gates were thrown open and we issued from our prison, free.
“It’s been almost a sensation,” said Sebastian Roch. “So one can experience almost a sensation, even in X———! Live and learn.”
“My dear sir, I am patriotism incarnate. Only I find my country dull. If that be treason, make the most of it. I could not love thee, dear, so well, loved I not dulness less. It is not every night of my life that I am arrested, and sit on a barrel smoking cigarettes with an enlightened foreigner. The English are not generally accounted a lively race, but by comparison with the inhabitants of X———they shine like diamonds.”
“I dare say,” I acquiesced. “But I’m not English—I’m American.”
“So I perceive from your accent,” answered he impertinently. “But as I told you once before, it amounts to the same thing. You wear your rue with a difference, that is all.”
“Speaking of sensations,” said I, “I would sell my birthright for a cup of coffee.”
“You’ll find no coffee-house awake at this hour,” said Sebastian.
“What! and provoke a violation of the law. By law they’re not allowed to open till seven o’clock.”
“Oh, laws be hanged! I must have a cup of coffee.”
“Really, you are delightful,” asserted Sebastian, putting his arm through mine.
Presently we came to a beer hall, at whose door I began to bang. My friend stood by, shaking with laughter, Which seemed to me disproportionate to the humour of the event.
“Oh, no, far from it. But this is such a lark you know,” said he.
By and by, we were seated opposite each other at a table, sipping hot coffee.
As I looked at Sebastian Roch I observed a startling phenomenon. The apex of his right whisker had become detached from the skin, and was standing out half an inch aloof from his cheek! The sight sent a shiver down my spine. It was certainly most unnatural. His eyes were bright, his voice was soft, he spoke English like a man and a brother, and his character seemed whimsical and open; but his beard, his dashing, black, pointed beard—which I’m not sure I hadn’t been envying him a little—was eerie, and, instinctively I felt for my watch. It was safe in its place and so was my purse. Therefore, at the door of the Bierhaus, in due time, we bade each other a friendly good-bye, he promising to look me up one of these days at my hotel.