Fritz hardly spoke, riding like a man asleep, but Sapt, without another word for the King, began at once to instruct me most minutely in the history of my past life, of my family, of my tastes, pursuits, weaknesses, friends, companions, and servants.
He told me the etiquette of the Ruritanian Court, promising to be constantly at my elbow to point out everybody whom I ought to know, and give me hints with what degree of favour to greet them.
"By the way," he said, "you're a Catholic, I suppose ?" "Not I," I answered.
"Lord, he's a heretic!" groaned Sapt, and forthwith he fell to a rudimentary lesson in the practices and observances of the Romish faith.
"Luckily," said he, "you won't be expected to know much, for the King's notoriously lax and careless about such matters.

But you must be as civil as butter to the Cardinal.

We hope to win him over, because he and Michael have a standing quarrel about their precedence." We were by now at the station.

Fritz had recovered nerve enough to explain to the astonished station master that the King had changed his plans.

The train steamed up.