The Sword Maker | Page 9

the adage "Blood tells" enjoyed
universal acceptance. It was, in fact, that erroneous statement "The
King can do no wrong" done up into tabloid form. From it, too, sprang
that double-worded maxim of the days of chivalry, "Noblesse oblige."
In our own time, the two-worded phrase is "Money talks," and if

diligent inquirers probe deeply into the matter, they will find that the
aspirations of the people always correspond with reasonable accuracy
to the meaning of the phrase then in use. Nothing could be more
excellent, for instance, than the proverb "Money talks" as representing
two commercial countries like America and England. In that short
sentence is packed the essence of many other wise and drastic sayings,
as, for instance, "The devil take the hindmost;" for, of course, if money
talks, then the man without it must remain silent, and his place is at the
tail of the procession, where the devil prowls about like a Cossack at
the rear of Napoleon's army.
Confronting each other in that ancient house on the Fahrgasse, we
witness, then, the personification of the two phrases, ancient and
modern: blood represented by the standing lad, and money by the
seated merchant.
"I am Prince Roland, only son of the Emperor," the young man had said,
and he saw at once by the expression on the face of his host that, could
he be convinced of the truth of the assertion, the thousand thalers that
the Prince had demanded would be his on the instant.
For a full minute Roland thought he had succeeded, but as the surprise
died out of the merchant's countenance, there replaced it that mask of
caution which had had so much to do with the building of his fortune.
During their conference Herr Goebel cudgeled his brain, trying to
remember where he had seen this young man before, but memory had
roamed among clerks, salesmen, and industrious people of that sort
where, somehow, this young fellow did not fit in. When Roland
suddenly sprung on him the incredible statement that he was a member
of the Imperial family, the merchant's recollection then turned towards
pageants he had seen, in one of which this young stranger might very
well have borne a part. Blood was beginning to tell.
But now experience came to the merchant's aid. Only in romances did
princes of the blood royal wander about like troubadours. Even a
member of the lesser nobility did not call unheralded at the house of a
merchant. The aristocracy always wanted money, it is true, "but what
they thought they might require, they went and took," as witness the

piratical Barons of the Rhine, whose exactions brought misery on the
great city of Frankfort.
Then all at once came the clinching remembrance that when the
Electors were appealed to on behalf of the young Prince, the three
Archbishops had promptly seized his Royal Highness, and, in spite of
the pleadings of the Empress (the Emperor was drunk and indifferent)
placed him in the custody of the Archbishop nearest to Frankfort, the
warrior prelate of Mayence, who imprisoned him in the strong fortress
of Ehrenfels, from which, well guarded and isolated as it was upon a
crag over-hanging the Rhine, no man could escape.
"Will you kindly be seated again, sir," requested the merchant, and if he
had spoken a short time before, he would have put the phrase "your
Royal Highness" in the place of the word "sir."
Roland, after a moment's hesitation, sat down. He saw that his coup had
failed, because he was unable to back it up by proofs. His dramatic
action had been like a brilliant cavalry charge, for a moment successful,
but coming to naught because there was no solid infantry to turn the
temporary confusion of the enemy into complete rout. Realizing that
the battle must be fought over again, the Prince sat back with a sigh of
disappointment, a shade of discontent on his handsome face.
"I find myself in rather a quandary," proceeded the merchant. "If indeed
you are the Emperor's son, it is not for such as I to cross-examine you."
"Ask me any questions you like, sir. I shall answer them promptly
enough."
"If I beg you to supply proof of the statement you make, you would be
likely to reply that as you dared not enter your father's Palace, you are
unable to furnish me with corroboration."
"Sir, you put the case in better language than I could employ. In more
halting terms that is what I should have said."
"When were you last in the Palace?"

"About the same time, sir, that you took up your residence in prison."
"Ah, yes; that naturally would be your answer. Now, my young friend,
you have shown me that you know nothing of mercantile practice;
therefore