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During his residence in London, the famous Prince Florizel of Bohemia gained the affection of all classes by his manners and by his generosity. He was a remarkable man even by what was known of him. Although he had an even temper and a philosophy of a ploughman, the Prince of Bohemia also had a taste for the adventurous and eccentric life. Now and then[2], when he felt blue, when there was no laughable play in any of the London theatres, and when the season of the year was unsuitable for his favourite sports, he asked his confidant and Master of the Horse[3], Colonel Geraldine, to a walk. The Master of the Horse was a young officer of a brave and even hot temper. He was glad to take a walk and hastened to make ready. Long practice and a varied experience of life gave him an ability to disguise. He could adapt, not only his face and manners, but his voice and almost his thoughts, to those of any rank, character, or nation. In this way he distracted attention from the Prince, and sometimes used it in order to make their way into strange societies. Of course, they never told of these secrets to the civil authorities. The strong courage of the one and the ready invention and devotion of the other brought them through many dangerous adventures. They grew in confidence as time went on.
One evening in March hard rain drove them into an Oyster Bar in the neighbourhood of Leicester Square. Colonel Geraldine was dressed and painted to represent a person connected with the Press. The Prince, as usual, changed his appearance by the addition of false whiskers and a pair of large eyebrows. These lent him a shaggy and weather-beaten air, which formed the strongest disguise. So the commander and his companion sipped their brandy and soda in security.
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The Prince was disturbed, and looked at his confidant with a shade of doubt. As for the young man, the flush came back darkly into his cheek, and his eyes threw out a spark of light.
“You are the men for me!” he cried, with an almost terrible excitement. “Shake hands upon the bargain!” (his hand was cold and wet). “You little know in what a company you will begin the march! You little know in what a happy moment for yourselves you partook of my cream tarts! I am only a soldier, but I am a soldier in an army. I know Death's private door. I am Death's friend, and can show you the way into eternity without ceremony and without scandal.”
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