Mr. Melton
    took his valet with him (on the box-seat), and I followed in a
    _Stadtwagen_ with the luggage. When I arrived, I found the _maitre
    d'hotel_ in a stupor of concern. The English nobleman, he said, had
    found fault with everything, and used to him language to which he was
    not accustomed. I quieted him, telling him that the stranger was
    probably unused to foreign ways, and assuring him that Your Honour
    had every faith in him. He announced himself satisfied and happy at
    the assurance. But I noticed that he promptly put everything in the
    hands of the headwaiter, telling him to satisfy the milor at any
    cost, and then went away to some urgent business in Vienna. Clever
    man! I took Mr. Melton's orders for our journey in the morning, and asked
    if there was anything for which he wished. He simply said to me:

    "Everything is rotten. Go to hell, and shut the door after you!" His man, who seems a very decent little fellow, though he is as vain
    as a peacock, and speaks with a Cockney accent which is simply
    terrible, came down the passage after me, and explained "on his own,"
    as he expressed it, that his master, "Mr. Ernest," was upset by the
    long journey, and that I was not to mind. I did not wish to make him
    uncomfortable, so I explained that I minded nothing except what Your
    Honour wished; that the steam-yacht would be ready at 7 a.m.; and
    that I should be waiting in the hotel from that time on till Mr.
    Melton cared to start, to bring him aboard. In the morning I waited till the man Jenkinson came and told me that
    Mr. Ernest would start at ten. I asked if he would breakfast on
    board; he answered that he would take his _cafe-complet_ at the
    hotel, but breakfast on board. We left at ten, and took the electric pinnace out to the _Trent_,
    which lay, with steam up, in the roads. Breakfast was served on
    board, by his orders, and presently he came up on the bridge, where I
    was in command. He brought his man Jenkinson with him. Seeing me
    there, and not (I suppose) understanding that I was in command, he
    unceremoniously ordered me to go on the deck. Indeed, he named a
    place much lower. I made a sign of silence to the quartermaster at
    the wheel, who had released the spokes, and was going, I feared, to
    make some impertinent remark. Jenkinson joined me presently, and
    said, as some sort of explanation of his master's discourtesy (of
    which he was manifestly ashamed), if not as an amende:

    "The governor is in a hell of a wax this morning." When we got in sight of Meleda, Mr. Melton sent for me and asked me
    where we were to land. I told him that, unless he wished to the
    contrary, we were to run to Vissarion; but that my instructions were
    to land at whatever port he wished. Whereupon he told me that he
    wished to stay the night at some place where he might be able to see
    some "life." He was pleased to add something, which I presume he
    thought jocular, about my being able to "coach" him in such matters,
    as doubtless even "an old has-been like you" had still some sort of
    an eye for a pretty girl. I told him as respectfully as I could that
    I had no knowledge whatever on such subjects, which were possibly of
    some interest to younger men, but of none to me. He said no more; so
    after waiting for further orders, but without receiving any, I said:

    "I suppose, sir, we shall run to Vissarion?" "Run to the devil, if you like!" was his reply, as he turned away. When we arrived in the creek at Vissarion, he seemed much
    milder--less aggressive in his manner; but when he heard that you
    were detained at Plazac, he got rather "fresh"--I use the American
    term--again. I greatly feared there would be a serious misfortune
    before we got into the Castle, for on the dock was Julia, the wife of
    Michael, the Master of the Wine, who is, as you know, very beautiful. Mr. Melton seemed much taken with her; and she, being flattered by
    the attention of a strange gentleman and Your Honour's kinsman, put
    aside the stand-offishness of most of the Blue Mountain women. Whereupon Mr. Melton, forgetting himself, took her in his arms and
    kissed her. Instantly there was a hubbub. The mountaineers present
    drew their handjars, and almost on the instant sudden death appeared
    to be amongst us. Happily the men waited as Michael, who had just
    arrived on the quay-wall as the outrage took place, ran forward,
    wheeling his handjar round his head, and manifestly intending to
    decapitate Mr. Melton. On the instant--I am sorry to say it, for it
    created a terribly bad effect--Mr. Melton dropped on his knees in a
    state of panic. There was just this good use in it--that there was a
    pause of a few seconds. During that time the little Cockney valet,
    who has the heart of a man in him, literally burst his way forward,
    and stood in front of his master in boxing attitude, calling out:

    "'Ere, come on, the 'ole lot of ye! 'E ain't done no 'arm. He honly
    kissed the gal, as any man would. If ye want to cut off somebody's
    'ed, cut off mine. I ain't afride!" There was such genuine pluck in
    this, and it formed so fine a contrast to the other's craven attitude
    (forgive me, Your Honour; but you want the truth! ), that I was glad
    he was an Englishman, too. The mountaineers recognized his spirit,
    and saluted with their handjars, even Michael amongst the number. Half turning his head, the little man said in a fierce whisper:

    "Buck up, guv'nor! Get up, or they'll slice ye! 'Ere's Mr. Rooke;
    'e'll see ye through it." By this time the men were amenable to reason, and when I reminded
    them that Mr. Melton was Your Honour's cousin, they put aside their
    handjars and went about their work. I asked Mr. Melton to follow,
    and led the way to the Castle. When we got close to the great entrance within the walled courtyard,
    we found a large number of the servants gathered, and with them many
    of the mountaineers, who have kept an organized guard all round the
    Castle ever since the abducting of the Voivodin. As both Your Honour
    and the Voivode were away at Plazac, the guard had for the time been
    doubled. When the steward came and stood in the doorway, the
    servants stood off somewhat, and the mountaineers drew back to the
    farther sides and angles of the courtyard. The Voivodin had, of
    course, been informed of the guest's (your cousin) coming, and came
    to meet him in the old custom of the Blue Mountains.