"Here, help yourself, Herr Vice-palatine!" he added, waving his hand
toward the contents of the chest. It was a more wonderful sight than the
arsenal itself. Rolls of gold coin, sacks of silver, filled the chest to
the brim.
Herr Bernat could only stare in speechless amazement. He made no move to
obey the behest to "help himself," whereupon Count Vavel himself thrust
his hands into the chest, lifted what he could hold between them of gold
and silver, and filled the vice-palatine's hat, which that worthy was
holding in his hand.
"But--pray--I beg of you--" remonstrated Herr Bernat, "at least, let us
count it."
"You can count it when you get home," interrupted Count Vavel.
"But I must give you a receipt for it."
"A receipt?" repeated his host. "A receipt between gentlemen? A receipt
for money which is given for the defense of the fatherland?"
"But I certainly cannot take all this money without something to show
from whom I received it, and for what purpose. Give me at least a few
words with your signature, Herr Count."
"That I will gladly do," responded the count, turning toward his desk,
and coming face to face with Marie, who had descended from her throne.
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