"Nor I," said Bernenstein, drawing himself up. "Nor you, Tarlenheim?"
"No, I also go on," I answered. Then again there was a moment's silence.
"She may make a man soft as a sponge," reflected Sapt, starting again, "or hard as a bar of steel. I should feel safer if the night were dark. I've looked at her often from my tent and from bare ground, and I know her. She got me a decoration, and once she came near to making me turn tail. Have nothing to do with her, young Bernenstein."
"I'll keep my eyes for beauties nearer at hand," said Bernenstein, whose volatile temper soon threw off a serious mood.
"There's a chance for you, now Rupert of Hentzau's gone," said Sapt grimly.
As he spoke there was a knock at the door. When it opened, James entered.
"The Count of Luzau-Rischenheim begs to be allowed to speak with the King," said James.
"We expect His Majesty every moment. Beg the Count to enter," Sapt answered; and, when Rischenheim came in, he went on, motioning the Count to a chair: "We are talking, my lord, of the influence of the moon on the careers of men."
"What are you going to do? What have you decided?" burst out Rischenheim impatiently.
