"Will you permit me to speak to you, sir?"
"Well?" said the Lieutenant curtly.
"My forge, which has been black and cold for many a long day, will soon
be alight and warm again. What think you of this?" He handed to the
Lieutenant his order for a thousand swords, and the officer made a
mental note of the commission as an interesting point in armament that
would be appreciated by his chief.
"You did not inform me last night who was the merchant you hoped would
finance your enterprise."
"Hoped?" echoed Roland, his eyes sparkling. "'Tis more than hope, Herr
Lieutenant. His name is Goebel, and he is one of the richest and
chiefest traffickers of Frankfort. Why, my fortune is made! Read this,
written in his own hand. I got it from him before midday, on my mere
word that I was certain of an order from his Lordship."
"You are indeed much to be envied," said the Lieutenant coldly,
returning the two documents.
"Ah, but I am just at the beginning. If _you_ would favor me by
smoothing the way to his Lordship, the Archbishop of Mayence, I in
return--"
"Out upon you for a base-born, profit-mongering churl! Do you think that
I, an officer, would demean myself by partnering a bagman!"
The Lieutenant turned on his heel, strode away and left him.
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