There I am at it again.  Oh, but I, Hugo Gottfried, am the wise man when I set out on my disquisitions.  I could new-make all the saws of the world, set instances to them, and never breathe myself.

“Nay,” said the Prince, “all is safe set within and without, thanks to my brave commander and wise Chancellor, and these other matters can e’en bide till I go back to them.  Consider that I am but a captain of horse going a-wooing and needing to talk gayly for good comradeship by the road.  Call me honest Captain Miller’s Son.”

So Captain Miller’s Son rode with Herr Doctor Schmidt and his servant Johann.  And a merry time the three of us had till we arrived at the borders of the Mark.

Now I have not time nor yet space (though a great deal of inclination) to tell of the wondrous pranks we played—­of the broad-haunched countrywomen we rallied (or rather whom Captain Miller’s Son rallied, and who, truth to tell, mostly gave as good as they got, or better, to that soldier’s huge delight), the stout yeoman families into whose midst we went, and their opinion of the Prince.  Of the last I have a good tale to tell.  “A good man and a kindly,” so the man said; “he has given us safe horse, fat cow, and a quiet life.  But yet the old was good too.  The true race to reign is ever the anointed Prince.”

“But then, did not Dietrich, the anointed Prince, harry you?  And worse, let others plunder you?  And that is not the fashion of Prince Karl, usurper though he be!” said the Prince.

“Nay,” the honest man would reply, “usurper is he not—­a God-sent boon to Plassenburg rather.  We love him, would fight for him, all my six sons and I. Would we not, chickens?”

And the six sons rolled out a thunderous “Aye, fight—­marry, that we would!” as they sat, plaiting willow-baskets and mending bows about the fire.

“But, alas! he is cursed with a mad wife, and, after all said and done, he is not of the ancient stock,” said the ancient man, shaking his head.

And the Prince answered him as quickly, tapping his brow significantly with his forefinger, “Are not all wives a little touched?  Or are yon passing fortunate in your part of the country?  Faith, we of the city will all come courting to the Tannenwald if you prove better off.”

“We are even as our neighbors!” cried the yeoman, shrugging his shoulders.  “Maul, my troth, what sayest thou?  Here is a brisk lad that miscalls thy clan.”

The goodwife came forward, smiling, comely, and large of well-padded bone.

“Which?” said she, laconically.

The farmer pointed to the Prince.  The matron took a good look at him.

“Well,” she said, “he is the one that should know most about us.  He has been married once or twice, and hath gotten certain things burned into him.  As for this one,” she went on, indicating Dessauer, “he may be doctor of all the wisdoms, as ye say, but he has never compassed the mystery of a woman.  And this limber young spark with the quick eyes, he is a bachelor also, but ardently desires to be otherwise.  I wot he has a pretty lass waiting for him somewhere.”