for you on the chance,' answered
Otto.

By this time they were close alongside; and the man, with the countryfolk
instinct, turned his cloudy vision first of all on his companion's mount.
'The devil!' he cried. 'You ride a bonny mare, friend!' And then, his
curiosity being satisfied about the essential, he turned his attention to
that merely secondary matter, his companion's face. He started. 'The
Prince!' he cried, saluting, with another yaw that came near dismounting
him. 'I beg your pardon, your Highness, not to have recognised you at
once.'

The Prince was vexed out of his self-possession. 'Since you know me,' he
said, 'it is unnecessary we should ride together. I will precede you, if
you please.' And he was about to set spur to the grey mare, when the
half-drunken fellow, reaching over, laid his hand upon the rein.

'Hark you,' he said, 'prince or no prince, that is not how one man should
conduct himself with another. What! You'll ride with me incog. and set
me talking! But if I know you, you'll preshede me, if you please! Spy!'
And the fellow, crimson with drink and injured vanity, almost spat the
word into the Prince's face.

A horrid confusion came over Otto. He perceived that he had acted
rudely, grossly presuming on his station. And perhaps a little shiver of
physical alarm mingled with his remorse, for the fellow was very powerful
and not more than half in the possession of his senses. 'Take your hand
from my rein,' he said, with a sufficient assumption of command; and when
the man, rather to his wonder, had obeyed: 'You should understand, sir,'
he added, 'that while I might be glad to ride with you as one person of
sagacity with another, and so receive your true opinions, it would amuse
me very little to hear the empty compliments you would address to me as
Prince.'

'You think I would lie, do you?' cried the man with the bottle, purpling
deeper.

'I know you would,' returned Otto, entering entirely into his
self-possession. 'You would not even show me the medal you wear about
your neck.' For he had caught a glimpse of a green ribbon at the
fellow's throat.

The change was instantaneous: the red face became mottled with yellow: a
thick-fingered, tottering hand made a clutch at the tell-tale ribbon.
'Medal!' the man cried, wonderfully sobered. 'I have no medal.'

'Pardon me,' said the Prince. 'I will even tell you what that medal
bears: a Phoenix burning, with the word _Libertas_.