A woman touched him lightly on the arm, and smiled into his face. It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer. The intruder was handsomely, even richly, attired in a scarlet riding-suit, embroidered with gold; a broad belt, to which a hanger was attached, crossed his shoulders; his boots rose above his knee, and he carried a laced hat in his hand. On the right were several mounted grenadiers: on the left, some half dozen javelin-men. “I shall never be able to thank you.
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