She _was_ lovely--she was even lovelier than he had ever thought
before.
At the Regengetz a telegram awaited him. It was from Maud.
"I shall be in Edelweiss this week without fail. I have something
very important to tell you." So it read.
CHAPTER XXIII
PINGARI'S
Nine o'clock of a rainy night, on the steep, winding road that
climbed the mountain-side from the walled-in city to the crest on
which stood the famed monastery of St. Valentine,--nine o'clock of a
night fraught with pleasurable anticipation on the part of one R.
Schmidt, whose eager progress up the slope was all too slow
notwithstanding the encouragement offered by the conscienceless Jehu
who frequently beat his poor steeds into a gallop over level
stretches and never allowed them to pause on the cruel grades.
Late in the afternoon there had come to the general post-office a
letter for Mr. R. Schmidt. He had told her that any message intended
for him would reach his hands if directed to the post-office. Since
his arrival in the city, three days before, he had purposely avoided
the main streets and avenues of Edelweiss, venturing forth but seldom
from the Castle grounds, and all because he knew that he could not go
abroad during the day-time without forfeiting the privileges to be
enjoyed in emulation of the good Caliphs of Baghdad.
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