A plaything for Metternich! Who can gaze upon these little toys without a thrill of pity?
"Poor little codger!" Fitzgerald murmured aloud.
"Yes, yes!" agreed a voice in good English, over his shoulder; "who will ever realize the misery of that boy ?" Fitzgerald at once recognized his jousting opponent of the previous hour.

Further, this second appearance refreshed his memory.

He knew now where he had met the man; he even recalled his name.
"Are you not Karl Breitmann ?" he asked with directness.
"Yes.

And you are--let me think.

Yes; I have it.