The enterprise. [volume] (Harlem, Mont.) 1899-1926, 1915-07-29
Are you satisfied. Mr. Smart, that

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witnesses. Ih1s IL 4 business transac
ton, not game OF chance" 1t was
the insult perfect.
AS ne prepared to take his depar
ture ne assumed an insinuating air Of
apology and remarked to me:
II owe you an apology. Mr.. Smart
There was time when | did you ar
injustice. I suspected you of keeping
your mistress here. Pray forgive my
error"
Five days later I was snugly en-
sconced in the ducal suit at the Bris
tol. overlooking the Kartnerringstra
bereft of my baronial possessions. but
not at all sorry. My romance had been
short lived. 1t is one thing to write
novels about medieval castles and
quite another thing to try to write a
novel in one of them. l trust may
never again be guilty Of such arrant
stupidity as to think that an American
oorn citizen can become feudal baron
by virtue of his dollars and cents any
more than an American born girl can
nope to be a real. dyed in the wool
ountess or duchess because some one
needs the money more than she does.
t would be quite as impossible. con
-rariwise. to transform noble duke
nto plain American citizen. so there
lou are. even up.
NY plans We're made After fort
light in Vienna l expected to go west
0 London for the autumn and then
oack to New York. Strange to relate.
+ was homesick. Never before had my
thoughts turned so restlessy. so visit
fully to the haunts of my boyhood days.
began to long for the lights Of Broad
way (Which | had scornfuly despised
II other days. and the gay peacockery
f Fifth avenue at 4 in the afternoon.
Il seemed to me that nowhere in all
he world WAS life so joyous and blithe
md worth while as in "old New York;"
nowhere We're the theaters so attract
i've. nowhere such restaurants. Even.
Il retrospect. the subway looked allur-
ing and as for the Fifth avenue stages.
hey were too beautiful for words
Nh what a builder of unreal things a
spell of homesickness may become if
me gives it half a chance.
As for SchIoss Rothhoefen, I had it
IN excellent authority mo less a person
than Conrad Schmick himself, that
barely had | shaken the dust of the
place from myself before the new mas
ter put into execution most eXtraor-
binary and incomprehensible plan of
reconstruction. In the first place. he
cave all the servants two weeks notice
and then began to raZe the castle from
the bottom upward instead of the other
way round, as a sensible person might
have been expected to do. He was
knocking out the walls in the cellars
and digging up the stone floors with
splendid disregard for that omnous
thing known as a cataclysm. The
grave question in the minds of the
servants was whether the usual and
somewhat mandatory two weeks no.
tee wouldn't prove trifle too long aft
erall. In fact, Hawkes.. with an inspira-
ton worthy of an office boy. managed
to produce q sick grandmother and cot
away from the place at the end of one
week, although having been paid in full
for two.
The day on which | left for Paris
still saw Tarnowsy at work. with his
masons, heroically battering down the
walls Of the grim old stronghold. and
chuckled to myself 1t was quite
evident that he hadn't found the hid
ing place up to that time.
After several days in Paris took
myself off to London. | was expecting
letters at Claridge's, where l always
take rooms-not because l think it is
the best hotel in London, but because
l am to some extent a creature of hab-
1t. My mother took me to Claridge's
when l was a boy. and saw Won
derful parsonage at the door. whom !
was pleased to call the king. Ever
since then l have been going to Cla-
ridges. and while my first king Is dead
there is one in his place, who bids fair
to live long, albeit no one shouts en-
couragement to him. He wears the
most gorgeous buttons I've ever seen.
and l doubt If King Solomon himself
could have been more regal. certainly
not Nebuchadnezzar. He works from
Z in the morning until Z at night. and
he has an imperial scorn for anything
smaller than half sovereign.
There were many letters waiting
there for me, but not one from the
Countess Aline. had encouraged the
hope that she might write to me. 1t
was the least she could do in return
for all that l had done for her not
withstanding my wretched behavior
on the last day Of our association.
While l had undoubtedly offended in
the most fragrant manner, still my act
was not objectionable. There was
tribute, not outrage, in my behavior
Poopendyke fidgeted a good deal
with the scanty results of my literary
labors. rafting the typed pages in a
most instnuating way. He oiled his
mil