DANGER SIGNALS.
A week later Rallywood returned from the frontier to take up his appointment in the Guard. Advised by a note from Wallenloup that his quarters were not yet in readiness for him at the Palace, he drove direct to the Continental on his arrival in Révonde.
Here presently Counsellor dropped in upon him. Rallywood was in his dressing-room, transforming himself as rapidly as possible into the likeness of an English gamekeeper; for a magnificent festivity in the shape of a masked ball was about to take place at the Palace. All the world had been invited, and as many of the world as could go were going, each with his or her own dream or purpose, as the case might be.
Major Counsellor sat and surveyed his friend, occasionally offering suggestions and remarks.
'Are you aware that the Guard of Maäsau never condescends to show itself in Révonde in any costume but its own blazing uniform? I see you have your edition of it lying on the chair over there. Why are you not conforming with their amiable peculiarities?'
Rallywood had his back to Counsellor at the moment.
'So I have heard, but I do not join until to-morrow,' he replied in an expressionless voice.
'And your quarters in the Palace? How about them?'
'I shall also have the rooms to-morrow.' Then he wheeled round and his eyes lit on his companion. 'Hullo! I didn't notice you before. Is that your notion of the gentle art of masquerade? What are you meant to be—a sort of Tommy Atkins?'
'I believed myself to be disguised as an officer and a gentleman,' returned Counsellor, rising to give Rallywood the full effect of his sturdy figure, clad in the uncompromising scarlet so dear to his country's heart. 'This is the uniform of the 30th Dragoons as worn in or about the year of grace 1730.'
'Your old regiment?'
Counsellor nodded. 'And my grandfather's,' adding, 'What's the matter with the dress?'
'Nothing,' said Rallywood, laughing. 'Perhaps I imagined on an occasion of this kind you might possibly stoop to something more misleading than this blatantly British get-up.'
'What were you expecting—a troubadour? I am satisfied to appear in my own character. Only a proportion of the people wear masks at this ball; it's an annual affair. Besides, life with a purpose is too wearing; one must always be on the alert and have the purpose in view, like the actor in a sixpenny theatre, who plays up to the gallery and keeps his eye open for the rotten egg of his enemy. The egg may not be thrown, but he must be ready to dodge it all the same. And—I have never excelled in dodging.'
'Ah—just what the Chancellor thinks. He says he has an immense admiration for you as the most honest diplomatist in Europe.'
'He put himself to the trouble of mentioning that fact to you, did he? Then I shall take the precaution of insuring my life. Anything might happen to a man of whom he has so villainous an opinion.'
Rallywood was arranging his gaiters.
'Why? You don't suppose Selpdorf is going to throw the egg? He spoke of you with absolute affection.'
'My good John, he has already thrown it! Now I must harass myself to find out the reason,' said Counsellor. 'You have spoilt my evening out. Before I had no purpose; now you have thrust one upon me. You should have kept your news until to-morrow.'
Rallywood was getting himself into his velveteen coat with a good deal of unnecessary violence.
'I don't believe the Chancellor is so dangerous,' he said carelessly. 'He is a consummate actor, but one knows it.'
'Yes,' assented the Major thoughtfully; 'yet the moment to watch him is the moment when he acts that he is acting. With the others of us acting is troublesome; with him it is habitual and a pleasure. However, he has given you your company; the rank is substantial, as far as it goes, and at least the accompanying pay is not altogether visionary.'
'Yes, he's done all that.' Rallywood was flinging some of his belongings back into his portmanteau.
'The next thing will be to find you a mission.'
'He has done that also.' Rallywood raised an expressive face. 'I am to reform the Guard!'
Counsellor burst into a great laugh, but as suddenly grew grave.
'They will take it kindly! Their welcome to you is likely to be ... interesting!'
'So I expected. But I went down to the mess last week and was introduced by old Wallenloup. They were very civil.'
'Ah! and since you left they have been very silent. They are overdoing it—too civil and too silent. Looks bad, you know.'
'Oh, that's all right; Selpdorf told me not to be drawn into any shallow quarrels,' Rallywood answered with a smile.
But the Major did not take up the smile. The two vertical lines above his fleshy nose deepened.
'It strikes me, my boy, that you've got the devil by the tail this time,' he said gruffly, as his eyes rested for a moment on Rallywood; 'but you know how to take care of yourself. Ready? We can drive to the Palace together. I have a carriage waiting.'
The couple proceeded downstairs, bought cigarettes of the waiter, and started. The wind was howling in its usual twanging cadences down the broad streets, increasing in force as they gained the open, lighted embankment of the river, along which they passed for some distance before reaching the courtyard of the Palace.
The great entrance hall was still full of arrivals, while up the wide central staircase trooped masks and dominos in a changing kaleidoscope of form and colour. Eager heads thrust this way and that, picturesque figures grouping and greeting, cavaliers of all periods, maidens of all nations, monks, barbarians, cardinals, queens, and clowns—sometimes the wisest heads under the most foolish caps—while here and there a few favoured paper-folk made desultory notes and sketches.
The painted ceiling stretching overhead is one of the triumphs of Renaissance art. The identity of the master hand who achieved that marvellous work has been a mooted point in art circles for a couple of centuries or thereabouts, and quite a library on the subject exists. The Maäsauns are very proud of their ceiling, prouder still of the controversy which has raged and still continues to rage around it.
M. Selpdorf, as representing his master, stood at the head of the staircase, and received the guests with a good deal more politeness and discrimination than the Duke himself might have shown, for that personage was said to have an awkward habit of turning his back upon those whom he happened to dislike.
Major Counsellor was greeted with effusion; Rallywood with raised eyebrows and a slight reserve.
'I had hoped to welcome the new captain of the Guard this evening,' Selpdorf said in a low voice and with a significant glance at Rallywood's velveteens.
'I have not yet joined, your Excellency. To-morrow I hope to have that honour,' returned Rallywood and passed on into the gallery beyond. This gallery, opening from the head of the staircase, ran round the great saloon, which served the purpose of a ballroom, and many of the guests were amusing themselves by looking down over the silk-hung balustrade on the dancers below.
In the gallery Counsellor paused to say a word here and there to several persons, who, like Rallywood and himself, were without masks, but he seemed to have curiously little facility in penetrating disguises. Presently a burly old man in the glittering green and gold of the Guard disengaged himself from the curtains at the back of the gallery, and nodding a supercilious acknowledgment of Rallywood's salute, brought his hand down with a rough heartiness on Counsellor's shoulder.
'Back again in Maäsau, Major Counsellor. I'm glad to see you!' he said with the laugh in his small eyes marred by a wrinkle of suspicious cunning, an expression which seemed startling on what was at first sight a big, bluff, sensual face. 'What good wind has blown you back among us?'
'Thanks, my lord;' Counsellor turned with ready response. 'I am glad to find that some of my old friends, especially Count Sagan, have not forgotten me,' he said simply.
'We believed you had forgotten Maäsau.'
'Maäsau will not allow herself to be forgotten!' laughed Counsellor. 'She is a coquette, and demands consideration from all the world.'
Sagan's face changed.
'Yes, a coquette, who trifles with many admirers but who knows how to hold her own against them,' he replied significantly. 'Who is that?' he added, staring after Rallywood. 'I think I recognise him as an English lieutenant in the Frontier Cavalry.'
'He is the same to-day,' said Counsellor.
'What?' exclaimed Sagan. 'Why to-day? Has he, then, come in for one of your colossal fortunes?'
'Who can say?' returned Counsellor. 'A fortune or—a colossal misfortune. Ah! there is Madame Aspard. Au revoir, Count.
Counsellor passed on, perfectly well aware of the heavy meaning attached to the wilful ignoring of Rallywood's appointment to the Guard by its colonel-in-chief. There was certainly danger ahead.
GOOD LUCK AND A FIREFLY.
Meanwhile Rallywood had come to an anchor beside one of the high embossed doors of gold and white which led from the gallery into various luxurious withdrawing rooms. As he leant against the lintel a voice suddenly said in his ear, as it seemed—
'My dear lady, why have such scruples? They are the most detestable things in life and the least profitable. They poison pleasure even when they do not altogether deprive us of it. And what does one gain by them? Absolutely nothing, not so much as the good opinion of our friends, who can never be brought to believe we possess them,' said a man in a mocking tone.
A distinctly uncomfortable sensation pervaded Rallywood's mind for the second which preceded the reply. The voice was Baron von Elmur's, and there was a note of admiration in it that he had reason to be acquainted with.
A woman laughed, a light, provoking laugh, Rallywood, who was still held by the crush against the door, knew it well, but he breathed freely, for it was not the laugh he had feared to hear.
'Nevertheless, Baron, I like scruples; they are always respectable, and therefore of use—sometimes,' the lady answered in a high, sweet tone.
'Your husband, my Lord Sagan, has not found them indispensable in his career.'
'But he is not a woman!' with a sigh.
'A beautiful woman can dispense with everything except—her beauty! That makes fools of us all! Besides——'
The rest of the sentence was lost, as Rallywood managed at length to force his way through the crowd, which was thickening rapidly.
Then he came upon a group of men he knew, men from the frontier, from the marshes about Kofn Ford and the crags of Pulesco, men with tanned skins like his own, and the mark of the collar rim of their high military tunics round their throats. They were masked, and represented various original characters, and were enjoying themselves hugely. More than all were they astonished at being recognised so readily by Rallywood. Rallywood drew his finger round his throat by way of explanation. There was a general laugh, and the men scattered each to seek his own particular pleasure. Rallywood remained looking down on the dancers. There was in the back of his mind some desire to identify the lady whose glove was still in his possession. He fixed now on one tall domino, now on another, but without satisfaction. He was discontentedly coming to the point of knowing that he had made a fresh mistake, when he turned his head abruptly, with a vague sense of being looked at, and saw a black domino standing for an instant alone at the further end of the gallery. Even under the muffling silken folds he fancied he recognised the attitude of the girl he had met at the Chancellor's.
He at once began to make his way through the crowd in her direction, but when next he looked she was gone. He descended to the salon, where he danced with more than one masked lady. His six feet of stature marked him out from the shorter Maäsauns, and the tall athletic figure of the gamekeeper, who moved with so much of unexpected ease and grace, excited some attention.
After an interval, as he stood back against the wall to allow a couple who had been following him to pass, they drew up in front of him.
'I obey you, Mademoiselle,' said the man.
His companion, who wore a black domino, made a gesture of dismissal; then she turned to Rallywood. 'You have been looking for me?' she said, as her late partner moved away.
'But naturally, Mademoiselle,' replied Rallywood.
'You know who I am?'
'Not in the least. I cannot even make a guess, though I have been waiting to know since this day last week.'
'It would have been easy to ask the question—of anyone,' she said with an odd intonation.
'By no means. There are questions which cannot be asked—of anyone, because the answer touches too closely.' Rallywood pulled himself up with a sudden sense of being ridiculously in earnest.
And then they were dancing.
'Yet you are not a stranger in Révonde. Madame de Sagan could have answered your question—had you cared to ask it,' the girl said.
'It did not strike me to ask her. I trusted to the fact that, belonging to the Guard, I must some day have the good fortune to find you again.'
'You are patient!'
'No,' returned Rallywood, 'I am not patient. But I know that all things come to him who waits. I wait.'
'So I see, excellently!'
'Have I not waited long enough to hear your name first from your own lips?'
'Stop for a moment;' then standing beside him, she continued, 'Ask me to-morrow.'
'If I am alive I will!' he laughed.
He felt her hand move with a quick tremor on his arm.
'I knew it! Which of them has challenged you? Unziar?' The swift question, echoing his own thought, took him completely by surprise.
He passed his arm round her, for the waltz was nearing its end.
'Shall we go on? No; no one has done me the honour of sending me a challenge.'
'Let us have an end of this absurd mystery!' said the girl impatiently. 'I am Valerie Selpdorf, and you are——'
'John Rallywood of the Guard of Maäsau!' he interposed. 'I had my commission from you in the ante-room of the Hôtel du Chancelier. But for that I should have been more than half inclined to refuse it.'
'I wish you had refused it! It may cost you—more than a man cares to pay. I thought my father held the power to give any commission he pleased, but one can never reckon with the Guard. They mean to kill you, Captain Rallywood! I wanted to warn you, but I think you know more, perhaps, than I can tell you or than you will tell me. What is going to happen? I want to help you—you must let me help you!'
Rallywood laughed, but perhaps his arm drew her a little closer as they moved more slowly during the concluding bars of the waltz.
'My dear Mademoiselle, I assure you that your fears are quite groundless. I am proud to belong to the Guard of Maäsau, and they have so far shown no intention of rejecting me. As for duels, if there happened to be one—are not affairs common in Maäsau? And afterwards, fewer funerals take place than one would suppose likely! Besides, M. Selpdorf's wishes cannot be lightly disregarded in Révonde.'
'You will be drawn into a quarrel before the night is over.' Mademoiselle Selpdorf stated her conviction very plainly, without noticing his disclaimers.
The music ceased. Rallywood spoke once more. 'To prove to you how little I anticipate anything of the sort, will you allow me to have the last dance on the programme?'
'That is nothing! What can I do for you?' she exclaimed.
'Expect me! If you would promise to expect me, I don't yet know the man who could stop my coming to you.'
The words were lightly spoken, but Valerie Selpdorf, looking up into Rallywood's eyes, understood that he was likely to be able to make any words of his good. They were handsome eyes, rather long in shape, frank and steady, the iris of a dense grey bordering on hazel as became the sunburnt yellow of his hair and moustache, and at that moment they contained an expression which remained in Valerie's memory as the distinctive expression of his face. Whenever in the future she recalled Rallywood, she thought of him as he looked then.
'I will expect you,' promised Valerie.
They both knew that for the moment they stood together at one of those cross-roads where life and death meet, where moreover a look and a word convey a mutual revelation of character such as years of ordinary intercourse often fail to supply.
Rallywood did not dance again; he contented himself with following the movements of the black domino. After a time she joined a little group of people with whom she stood talking. One of the group presently detached himself and glanced round as if searching for some one. It was Unziar of the Guard. He quickly perceived Rallywood and at once came towards him.
'Allow me to recall myself to your memory, Captain Rallywood; I am Unziar of the Guard,' he said bowing, both voice and bow touching that extreme of punctiliousness which in itself constitutes an insolence.
'The Guard are said to have long memories. I hope in that particular, at least, if in no other, to support their traditions,' replied Rallywood, with an air of cool and serene indifference said to be impossible to any but men of his race.
'That is—something,' rejoined Unziar with a smile that belied its name. 'We are somewhat exigeant in the Guard. We ask for more than a long memory—a long pedigree, for example, and a long sword.'
'I have heard that also.'
Unziar glanced sharply at him out of his pale keen eyes. The fellow was too non-committal to please his taste. To hound a coward out of the corps promised infinitely less difficulty and enjoyment than he had hoped for when he pledged himself to rid the Guard of the Englishman. For perhaps the only time in his life he wished he wore any uniform but the tell-tale green and gold, for he knew of the Guard that it was often their 'great name that conquered.'
Spurred by this thought he looked Rallywood very straightly in the face, and the gleam of his eyes reminded the Englishman of glacier ice.
'Knowing so many of our peculiarities, perhaps Captain Rallywood may no longer care to join us?' said the Guardsman.
Rallywood laughed with absolute good-humour.
'I both care and—dare!' he said pleasantly.
Unziar's face cleared.
'I am forgetting my errand,' he said with a slight change of tone. 'I have been sent by a lady to bring you to her. Will you follow me?'
As they approached the group, the shorter of the two black dominoes spoke.
'You need not trouble to introduce Captain Rallywood, Anthony. We are already friends; are we not, Monsieur?'
The sweet high voice and the inconsequent childish laugh came upon Rallywood with a slight shock.
'I could hardly have dared to claim so much,' he said; 'but I cannot forget that Madame de Sagan—'
She laid her hand with a suspicion of caressing familiarity on his arm.
'Hush, then! Do you not know that it is inadmissible to mention the name of a masked lady until the clock strikes midnight? Captain Rallywood has been stationed near the Castle at Kofn Ford; we have therefore met—occasionally,' continued the lady, addressing herself to Mademoiselle Selpdorf.
'Captain Rallywood is luckier than most of us,' interposed another voice. 'He seems to have an enviable facility for appearing where we others in vain wish to be. Only last week——'
A tall Mephistopheles in scarlet silk, whose high shoulders lent him added height, had joined them. His peaked cap and feather sparkled with lurid points of fire. Countess Sagan turned upon him.
'But, Baron, where is then your domino? It is not yet midnight,' she exclaimed, her hand still remaining on Rallywood's arm.
'Listen!' von Elmur raised his hand. 'The happy moment arrives when the beautiful faces we long to see——' He gave the rest of the sentence to the ear of Mademoiselle Selpdorf, who stood silently looking on at the little scene.
At this instant the music broke off with a sudden clang; the dancers paused where they stood, as the great bell of the palace tower sent its strong, mellow boom of midnight out over the frost-bound city.
Rallywood, on looking round an instant later, saw that masks and dominoes had disappeared. Opposite to him stood Valerie Selpdorf in a dress of some deep velvety shade, which bore, wrought upon its texture here and there, tiny horseshoes embossed in iridescent jewels. A diadem of the same shape crowned her dark hair. Yet all the richness and delicacy of the blended colourings struck Rallywood with only one odd remembrance—his own boot-heel outlined in Révonde mud upon a longsuèdeglove. The same association apparently occurred to Baron von Elmur. His glance fled from Valerie to Rallywood, and he smiled with some malice.
'What have we here, Mademoiselle? The stamp of some idealised cavalry charger?' he asked. 'I should be eternally grateful if only I were—of the cavalry!'
A sudden intense expression, like a spasm of hope or happiness, crossed Unziar's pale face in a flash. A word sprang almost involuntarily from his lips.
'The Guard——' But the girl cut him remorselessly short.
'I do not idealise either the Guard'—she paused, then went on without taking her eyes from Elmur's face—'or the cavalry. One has illusions, doubtless, but none so entirely absurd! I have idealised my own desire merely. I want good luck. I am "Good Luck!"' She spoke the last two words in English, smiling back at Elmur.
The Baron bowed. He was not beaten yet.
'That is well,' he exclaimed; 'since the cavalry and Guard are disowned, it means that the good luck is for the poor diplomat!'
'Provisionally, yes,' said the girl.
'Mademoiselle Selpdorf has already given this waltz to me,' said Unziar, stepping forward.
But Mademoiselle Selpdorf placed her hand within the Baron's ready arm.
'Later, Anthony,' she answered. 'His Excellency deserves a consolation prize, since my reading of "Good Luck" is not in the German language.'
She turned away, and with her the group parted and scattered.
'You are very much interested; is it not so?'
Rallywood started. The Countess spoke petulantly.
'Do you not know,' she added, 'that the custom in Révonde holds you to the partner with whom you find yourself when midnight rings? Valerie Selpdorf is embarrassed with partners—my cousin Anthony Unziar, who desires perhaps herself, but most certainly her fortune, and our delightful German Minister, who uses all means that come to hand to win Maäsau for his master! But I should not say these foolish things to you, who are of the other party.'
They were dancing by this time, her head near his shoulder, her voice soft in his bending ear.
'Of the other party?' he repeated. 'I flattered myself that you said something else just now.'
'Yes, a friend; but I made a mistake—I have none—no, not one true friend!' the voice said passionately in his ear, 'and my husband——'
Rallywood almost lifted her clear of some crowding couples, and then gently released her. In a vague way he felt the force of her appealing beauty as he had felt it intermittently for some months past. It touched him for the moment, but he was apt to forget both it and the very existence of the woman herself directly he parted from her.
'Count Sagan is colonel-in-chief of the Guard?' he asked, and the question seemed to fit in with her train of thought.
She made no immediate response, but with a light touch on his arm led him to a flower-banked apartment, about which a few couples were scattered in various convenient nooks. She sank upon a sequestered settee, and made room for him beside her.
'Yes, he is colonel-in-chief of the Guard because they think him too old to act any longer as its real commandant. He was the first soldier in Maäsau and the most unequalled sportsman. He was all these things, and I am proud of them! But look at me!'
She rose languidly and stood before him. Rallywood saw a slight woman, tall and exquisitely fair, who carried her small head with its gleaming coronet royally. Her skin and her soft flushed cheeks had the pure, evanescent quality of a child's complexion. Moreover, her chief charm was perhaps her air of child-like innocence. Isolde of Sagan had seldom looked more lovely; she was honestly touched by self-pity, and was posing as the proud yet disillusioned wife of a man hopelessly older than herself, and for the time being she believed earnestly in that view of her lot.
'All these things have been,' she added softly, her eyes filling with tears, 'butI am! Can I ever be satisfied with what only was?' Rallywood's face altered. Like any other man in such a position he felt immensely sorry for her. She saw the advantage she had gained, and at once the coquette awoke in her.
'Captain Rallywood,' she sank down beside him again, 'I need a friend in whom I can trust, who will ask nothing of me, but who will give me all the things I most want.'
The interpretation of this enigmatical speech was left to the ear, for the young Countess was gazing at her big black fan, where luminous fireflies hung tangled amongst the dusky feathers. Quickly with some dissatisfaction she became aware that Rallywood was not looking at her—as he should have been doing—but staring in front of him with a grave expression. Well, she knew she could make him look at her as she desired—yet. It was but a matter of time.
'I think you may count upon me,' said Rallywood at last. He believed in her, which was good; moreover, he meant what he said; yet the speech was wholly lacking in the flavour which to the Countess Sagan was the flavour of life.
'After all, it is little to promise, and I may not need your friendship for very long,' she replied, plucking a glittering firefly from her fan and laying it on his sleeve with her sweet light laugh. 'Like a firefly I shall dance out my short night, and die quickly before life grows stale!'
Rallywood took out his cigarette case of Alfaun leather-work, and dropped the firefly with its sparkle of diamond-dust into it.
'I don't like to hear you say that,' he said in his quiet way, which the listener decided might mean so much or so little. 'We must all go out some time, I suppose, but one always wants the beautiful things to live for ever.... Meanwhile, can you spare me another dance?'
THE CLOISTER OF ST. ANTHONY.
The night was drawing to a close. The long supper room was almost deserted. Amongst the lingerers were a few officers in the uniform of the Guard, who stood talking together in one corner.
'The fellow has given you no chance,' Adolf was saying gloomily.
'Have him in here! Kick him in here, if necessary!' said Colendorp.
'I don't think you will find him reluctant, drawled Unziar. 'I have spoken with him already this evening, and I—ah—rather liked what he said.'
'Then why haven't you arranged it? To-morrow he joins—and he must never be permitted to join the Guard! We might have asked Abenfeldt to remove him, but the Guard has up to the present day been able to set its own house in order,' added Colendorp with a sour glance at Unziar. 'Has his Excellency the Chancellor thrown out too powerful a hint about the fellow?—I saw Mademoiselle dancing with him this evening—I mean a hint too powerful to be disregarded by those who wish to retain the good opinion of M. Selpdorf!'
Unziar scowled.
'I permit no one—not one of my own regiment—to insult me,' he rejoined with a white blaze of anger on his pale face, and the wine in his hand trembled.
Adolf suddenly stretched across to take up a decanter, and catching the glass with the edge of his heavy epaulet, knocked it from Unziar's fingers.
'We are losing sight of the main question,' he said. 'May I suggest, sir,' to Colendorp, who happened to be the captain of his own squadron, 'that it is unusual to be obliged to act so carefully as we have been advised to do in this case?'
Colendorp's dark face grew darker, but the honour of the Guard over-rode all personal considerations.
'I have been hasty, Unziar,' he said in a stifled voice after a slight pause.
Unziar bowed and continued as if the interlude with its covert allusions had not taken place.
'It has been difficult to get at Rallywood this evening. Yet let us see how he shoots before we conclude that he has any rooted objection to handling a pistol. I agree with Captain Colendorp, that the affair should be brought off to-night. I will go and find the Englishman.'
He had already walked towards the broad arched doorway, when among the palms and the hangings which shrouded it two men appeared. One was Counsellor, in his blazing red uniform, beside him Rallywood's tall figure, clad in soft brown tones of velveteen, looked almost black.
Behind them again appeared other faces.
Rallywood took in the meaning of the situation at a glance. Without any perceptible pause he held out his hand to Counsellor.
'Well, good-bye, Major, since you are going. I will turn up to-morrow as early as I can,' he said.
Counsellor understood also. In his position it was impossible to do anything for Rallywood. As an agent secretly accredited by the Court of St. James's, he must hold aloof and neutral in all personal quarrels. He appreciated the tact with which Rallywood dismissed him from a scene which promised to be distinctly awkward, but his hand itched to shoot down the flower of the Guard of Maäsau for the insolence that dared to doubt the worthiness of an Englishman of birth to hold a place among them.
'Good-bye, Rallywood,' he said gruffly, and turned on his heel to find himself face to face with Baron von Elmur and one or two officers of the Frontier Cavalry.
'There is about to be a storm, Major, observed Elmur, passing Counsellor with a cool nod.
'So it seems. A storm in a teacup!' retorted the Major derisively.
Meanwhile Rallywood, with the men of the Cavalry, his old brother-officers, behind him, advanced to meet Unziar.
'We of the Guard are hoping to break glasses with you gentlemen of the Cavalry before the night is over,' began Unziar, alluding to a fashion amongst the military contingent in Maäsau of taking wine together and breaking the glasses afterwards as a sign of unalterable good feeling and mutual loyalty. Unziar included Rallywood with the two officers beside him in this invitation, by a slight inclination of the head.
The three men accepted, but there was a little stiffening in the attitude of each, for Rallywood had friends here who were resolved, if only for the honour of the Frontier Corps, to see their late comrade through the coming trouble.
Before the wine filled the glasses, Adolf was already deep in the story of Unziar's shooting-match with Abenfeldt.
'Allow me the honour of drinking with you, Monsieur,' said Colendorp to Rallywood. 'It was in truth a notable performance; we have never had even in the Guard a surer shot than Unziar,' he added, alluding to the anecdote.
Rallywood had just time to make up his mind and determine upon his course of action.
The glasses clinked together, and then clashed upon the floor, where the men set their heels upon them. Then Rallywood turned to Unziar:
'I compliment you, Lieutenant Unziar,' he said. 'I already knew that you were a swordsman not easily to be matched; since, in fact, the little affair at Alfau, when I had the pleasure of acting as your second. But the pistol is, I venture to say, another matter.'
Unziar set his shoulders back with an indescribable suggestion of scornful defiance.
'May I ask you to state precisely what you mean, Monsieur?' he answered.
'I mean that although a man may shoot any number of swallows of a morning before breakfast, it does not follow that he can hit a man at, say, twenty paces.' Rallywood spoke deliberately.
The whole group of men listened in silence. Then Unziar leant towards Rallywood with a smile.
'We can but try, Captain Rallywood,' he said gently.
Although everyone in their immediate neighbourhood was listening, from the other side of the hall they looked, no doubt, like a group of tall men engaged in the ordinary conversation and common amenities of society, the only noticeable difference being that Unziar was a little more deprecating and low-voiced than usual. Elmur, standing near by, filled his glass and drank, with a silent nod at Unziar.
'I shall be delighted to assist you in settling the question,' returned Rallywood; then, consulting his card, he added, I find I have an engagement for the last dance, some twenty minutes hence. May I recommend the interval to your consideration?'
The two frontier men stepped forward simultaneously to offer their services to Rallywood. He thanked them, and was about to accept, when Captain Adiron interposed.
'If either of these gentlemen will resign in my favour I shall feel it an obligation, as I can then offer myself to Captain Rallywood as one of his seconds.'
Courtesy demanded that Rallywood and his friends should fall in with this proposal, and Rallywood, replying to Adiron, added:
'You have heard exactly what passed between Lieutenant Unziar and myself, and I am sure I cannot do better than leave the matter in your hands in conjunction with my friend, Colonel Jenard.'
Colendorp and Adolf, as representing Unziar, accompanied Rallywood's seconds to make the necessary arrangements. Meanwhile, Rallywood strolled back to the gallery above the ballroom, and looked down at the dancers. He could not see Valerie, but he remembered Selpdorf and his injunctions to avoid a quarrel, and smiled as he thought over the words, since the Chancellor must have been perfectly aware that he had pushed an unwelcome foreigner into a position that could only be held by force of arms, even in the case of a Maäsaun candidate of noble blood. At that moment he saw his own position clearly. He knew himself to be an unconsidered unit in the big game of diplomacy that was being played over his head, and he remembered that the day of human sacrifices is not yet, as many suppose, quite a thing of the past. The gods are changed, or called by other names, and the high priest no longer dips his hands in the actual blood of the victim; but the whole deadly drama goes on repeating itself as it always must while the generations of men have their being under various modifications of the primeval system of the strong hand. That his life might be deliberately requisitioned by Selpdorf to forward some secret policy of his own was by no means an impossible supposition. Rallywood glanced at the clock. In another quarter of an hour he must either be dancing with Valerie Selpdorf or lying dead in the famous Cloister of St. Anthony, which overlooked the river, and where many another man had died under much the same circumstances.
Rallywood laughed again and turned on his heel. At that period it did not seem to matter greatly which way it ended, but he was going to carry the undertaking through with what credit his wits afforded him.
In the meantime the Cloister of St. Anthony had been lit up from end to end with a brilliant light, and while the other two seconds went to fetch their respective principals to the spot, Adiron and Adolf exchanged a word or two as they waited.
'The Englishman took it very well,' remarked Adiron.
'Devilish well,' lisped little Adolf; 'he made rather a favour, of it just to satisfy Unziar, you know! He's too sure of himself, this Rallywood. If he kills Unziar, which is unlikely, I shall have to finish the affair myself!' with a frowning importance that sent Adiron into one of his ready roars of laughter.
The Cloister was still echoing with the sound when Rallywood, accompanied by Jenard, arrived from the other side of the palace, where the state rooms were situated. On the way Jenard explained to Rallywood that the procedure decided upon as being best suited to the requirements of the case was simply alternate shots at twenty paces.
Rallywood and Unziar being placed, one of the men sent a coin spinning up into the air. Then followed a long minute of silence.
St. Anthony's Cloister looks inward towards a quadrangle; the outer side bordering the river has been glazed in, but in the interval of waiting Rallywood could hear the water plashing and sobbing against the foundations of the old walls, and the wild sound of thetsa, sweeping down from the snowy frontier above Kofn Ford, as it wailed and howled drearily along the dark waters. He almost started when Adiron, approaching him, said:
'You have won the first shot, Captain Rallywood.'
'Then I am afraid I must beg of you to do me the great favour of rearranging the affair,' replied Rallywood; 'for if I should be unfortunate enough to kill Lieutenant Unziar, or even to disable him, the question at issue between us must remain undecided for at the best an indefinite time, and possibly for ever. If you recollect, the matter over which he was pleased to differ with me was my expressed opinion that though a good shot may bring down swallows to perfection, he might miss a man at a moderate distance.'
'You have won the toss,' remonstrated Adiron.
'Yes, unluckily. But I feel sure that Lieutenant Unziar will be kind enough not to hold me to that, since it is evident that the first shot should be his.'
Adiron grinned. It was his way of showing many mixed emotions.
'I like your way of conducting a dispute, Captain Rallywood,' he said; 'but as your second I must warn you that it is the worst luck in the world to refuse luck. You have won the toss. In declining to profit by it you are paying court to death.'
Rallywood shrugged his shoulders.
'I may prove my point,' he retorted, smiling.
'As for that, it might be decided on a different basis later on,' urged Adiron.
For the second time that night Rallywood looked at his watch.
'I have an engagement in seven minutes,' he said. 'I shall be glad if you will convey my meaning to Lieutenant Unziar.'
'As you like,' said Adiron; 'but in case of accident I should like to take the opportunity of saying to you now, that in the whole range of my experience I have never derived more pleasure from the attitude of a principal than I have on this occasion from yours.'
Adiron concluded with a bow and recrossed to the other second. Since the Englishman was determined to go to his grave in so excellent and gallant a fashion, by heaven, it was Victor St. Just Adiron who would escort him to its brink with all the honours of a fine and hereditary courtesy! He was a man quite capable of losing himself in a cause; therefore, as he approached the other seconds, he came as a partisan of Rallywood's, resolved that his man should have his will in spite of all or any opposition.
'My principal,' he began, 'has just pointed out that this meeting is rather in the nature of the justification of an opinion than a quarrel in the ordinary sense;' then, repeating Rallywood's contention, he added, 'You will see that it remains for Lieutenant Unziar to prove himself in the right.'
Colendorp threw out a bitter oath, Adolf objected softly, and Jenard stood silent and in dismay. What could Rallywood mean by throwing away his life? But Adiron backed up Rallywood; he was going to bring this thing to pass! Rallywood should have a last satisfaction in this life, because he was worthy of it.
'If Lieutenant Unziar chooses to withdraw his opinion,' he said, 'of course Captain Rallywood will not go any further into the matter. For the rest, he has an appointment in less than seven minutes. On his behalf I can but insist that his suggestion affords the only possible way out of the difficulty.'
Reluctantly the other men yielded. Rallywood had gained a moral advantage. If he were destined to die, he would die in a manner that would go down into the history of the Guard. Hastily and in accordance with the request of Rallywood, the change of procedure was explained to Unziar.
The two opponents stood absolutely still, Rallywood's face wearing the expression of one who is politely interested in something that is happening to somebody else.
At the signal Unziar raised his pistol and fired.
Rallywood stood in his place for some thirty seconds, while there was a sound of splintering glass as the bullet rushed out into the darkness above the river; then he advanced smiling.
'It seems,' he said,'that I was right.'
Unziar stared at him.
Rallywood handed his pistol to Jenard, and bowing to the assembled men ceremoniously, he went on:
'I hope we may consider the affair concluded, and as I am engaged for the dance that is about to begin, I trust you will excuse me.'
And with another bow he was gone. No one spoke for a little while, then Unziar walked towards the others with no very pleasant face. That Rallywood had done a thing above reproach, and in a manner above reproach, made it none the easier for his pride to accept the result. But he was above all considerations and before all considerations true to himself—to Anthony Unziar.
'Captain Rallywood has made his point and a reputation,' he said at last. 'I think, Colendorp, you will agree with me that as men of honour we must consider the matter ended.'
'And in Captain Rallywood's favour?' asked Colendorp suddenly.
'Certainly. What do you say, gentlemen?' Adiron spoke with warmth.
'I suppose we must concede that it was neatly done, and that Captain Rallywood deserves his success,' agreed Adolf with some constraint.
Unziar's generosity rose to the occasion.
'Our gain in the Guard is your loss in the Cavalry, Colonel Jenard,' he said handsomely.
Jenard acknowledged the implied compliment, and went off leaving the three Guardsmen together.
'We shall have to swallow the Englishman after all,' said Colendorp blackly. 'How came you to miss him, Unziar?'
Unziar raised his eyebrows.
'Who can tell? Luck, I suppose,' replied he. 'But I, for one, am not sorry. The man's worth keeping.'
'He shapes well,' commented Adolf. 'But how will the chief take it?'
'I am going to find the Colonel and tell him what has happened,' said Unziar. 'I don't know how you fellows feel about it, but I say for myself that the Guard might have done a good deal worse.'
Colonel Wallenloup was at that moment engaged in promenading the ballroom with Valerie Selpdorf on his arm. She belonged to that sufficiently rare type of girl whose society is sought and enjoyed by those older men who, as a rule, are content to stand by and watch the current of younger life sweep by them, men who are in no sense gallants, but who find a strong attraction in talking to a young and clever woman on all kinds of subjects that too often lie outside the domain of the thoughts of youth. Youth, engrossed in the problem of self, persistently ignores those far more varied and profound problems to be found hidden in more experienced hearts and lives.
Wallenloup, who distrusted all women and was accordingly disliked by not a few, always claimed a waltz with Valerie whenever he had the good fortune to meet her. To him she was a woman worth talking to first, and a pretty girl afterwards.
Their dance having concluded, Wallenloup walked down the room with his partner, continuing his monologue. Valerie had been very silent, but the Colonel had more to say than usual, and his subject happened to be a very scathing condemnation of outside interference with the affairs of the Guard. Valerie listened without words. Perhaps her heart beat more quickly, and there may have been more anxiety in her mind as to the final upshot of the case in point than her companion could have guessed. But she showed a flattering amount of interest in his opinion, although she was well aware that the question was probably being settled once for all, as far as Rallywood was concerned, in St. Anthony's Cloister, without the help of Colonel Wallenloup.
Suddenly she leant a little more heavily on his arm.
'My dear Mademoiselle, what is the matter?' exclaimed the Colonel. 'You are pale. What is it?'
'I am tired, and the saloon has become so hot, but—thanks, I see my next partner coming,' she answered as Rallywood came towards them.
Wallenloup looked down at her with some reproach.
'This fellow?' he said.
'But why not?' she replied with a little smile. 'Is he not one of the Guard? Can I aspire to anything higher?'
'Captain Rallywood is not yet of the Guard!' said the old soldier; then he bowed coldly and turned on his heel, without giving any symptom of having recognized Rallywood beyond his scornful words.
'I have come, Mademoiselle,' said Rallywood.
The girl's pale cheeks were now touched with a delicate carmine, such as shines between the fingers of a hand held up against a light. The flush seemed to heighten and enhance her beauty, or rather it lent her a novel kindling charm that struck home upon Rallywood's mood.
'What have you been doing?' she asked with interest.
'Breaking glasses with the Guard,' he replied.
'That ceremony occasionally includes the use of a sword or a pistol.'
'I have used neither,' he replied.
'Are you then also a diplomatist?' she asked with quick scorn.
Rallywood pulled his moustache. He did not pretend to understand women, but that Mademoiselle Selpdorf should now despise him for escaping a danger she had half an hour ago trembled over and prayed to avert, seemed at best rather inconsistent.
'I have attempted to be diplomatic now and then, perhaps,' he said, 'but not always with conspicuous success.'
'Diplomacy was never meant,' she said, looking frowningly at him through her black lashes, 'never meant to be a private virtue. Its only excuse lies in a national necessity.'
'M. Selpdorf instructed me to avoid a quarrel,' rejoined Rallywood.
'What do you suppose he meant,' she asked bitterly, 'knowing you had to deal with the Guard?'
'Ah!' and a slow smile dawned in his eyes; 'now I wonder what he meant knowing I had to deal with the Guard?'
Valerie frowned again; her words were not particularly expedient under the circumstances, but she disliked having them flung back at her.
'I beg your pardon. Of course I know nothing of—of these things. The matter concerns you only. But I thought, and I am sorry for the mistake, that you looked like a man!'
There was a jingle of spurs behind her as she was about to turn away, and Colonel Wallenloup strode up hurriedly.
'Captain Rallywood, why are you not wearing the uniform of your regiment—of the Guard?' he asked in a loud tone.
There was a stir amongst the people about them; many stopped and drew nearer to hear the end of this unprecedented conversation.
'Because I intend to resign my commission to-morrow, sir,' replied Rallywood haughtily.
'On the part of the Guard, I beg of you to reconsider that decision,' urged Wallenloup.
He shook hands gravely with the young man, then detaching a star of gun-metal from his breast, he awkwardly attempted to fasten it to the lapel of Rallywood's coat. 'I see you have not the star of the Guard. May I give you mine? Unziar, see to this; I cannot attach it.'
'No, Colonel Wallenloup; that should rather be my duty,' said the Countess Sagan, who happened to be standing by.
Wallenloup grunted.
'As the wife of our colonel-in-chief, madame, I feel sure your kindness will be appreciated,' he said grimly.
Madame de Sagan's blue eyes glanced up into Rallywood's face as her fingers touched his breast.
'No, as your friend,' she said softly.
Then all at once Rallywood discovered how numerous were his friends and well-wishers in Maäsau. He was overwhelmed with congratulations and introductions, but the memory of that night which lingered longest with him was the tall figure of Valerie Selpdorf standing aside and looking coldly on. She expressed no pleasure at the turn events had taken, she offered no congratulations, but she met Unziar with what was only too plainly a mocking comment on the little scene, and the next moment was floating down the long room in the young Maäsaun's arms to the music of the last waltz.
ONE WOMAN'S DIPLOMACY.
There are men who though conspicuously in the world are never of it. Counsellor was one of these. He gave the impression of being a spectator; one who looked on at the play of common ambitions and intrigues with an amused and impersonal interest. He was drawn into no quarrels. Those who hated him most continued to shake hands with him, and none could accuse him of being a partisan. Yet he was rather truculent than meek, entirely ready to give his opinion, often with a surprising frankness, but maintaining throughout the complex relations of his life a superb reserve that formed a defence behind which neither favour nor enmity could penetrate.
He stayed on at Révonde, though thetsacontinued to blow relentlessly. Affairs were yet in a chaotic condition and he lingered grumblingly at the club, declaring it was too cold to travel, and apparently finding his chief relaxation in privately deriding Rallywood for the favours which Révonde society was thrusting so lavishly upon him.
In the untiring whirl and tangle of court life and gaiety Rallywood lived and moved with a growing enjoyment that half surprised himself, and for which he accounted on the score of change from the dull drudgery of the frontier. His acceptance by the Guard had been thorough; even the colonel-in-chief, Count Sagan, whose strongest point was not courtesy, had given him a pronounced recognition. The pretty Countess demanded a good deal of his attention and attendance, and this fact brought down upon him some of Counsellor's most scathing jeers.
'Gallantries are in vogue, my boy, and you are qualifying for a high place amongst the Maäsauns,' he said. 'She is a deuced pretty woman. I offer you my compliments.'
'She is pretty,' replied Rallywood, 'but there are a good many people in Maäsau who think her handsomer than I do.'
'Yet you tell me that you are again on your way to her house this evening. Can't you get through the day without a glimpse of her?'
'Does it seem so bad as all that?' asked Rallywood reflectively. 'Yes, I suppose I like going there; yet as I have said before, there are a good many people who appreciate her more than I do.'
'Then what in the world takes you there?'
An odd expression grew slowly into the young man's face.
'Because of the other people, I suppose,' he repeated dreamily.
'As for instance?'
Rallywood woke up from his thoughts and shook himself.
'Unziar,' he returned with a grin.
Counsellor opened the stove and threw in the remnant of his cigar.
'Ah!' he commented significantly; 'and I presume Unziar goes there to meet you. I begin to see.'
Rallywood laughed.
'I'm hanged if I do! By the way, the Countess wants of all things to make a friend of you. She says the English are so reliable. But you are such an old bear the women can't get at you.'
'So much the better for me,' was the grim reply. 'Also I am sorry that I can't reciprocate the Countess's opinion of me. There are very few reliable women. If I had ever found one I might have married her.'
'That is a hard saying, Major. You've been unlucky. That's where it hurts with you!'
'No, I've no personal feeling in the matter. I share the opinion in common with many wise men. Let me refer you to Solomon, the census of whose harem warrants us in believing that what he didn't know about women wasn't worth knowing. Yet he records as his experience, "One man among a thousand have I found; but a woman among all these have I not found."'
'I bet he didn't! You can't sample a delicate quality in the bulk,' retorted Rallywood, and was already at the door when an idea stopped him. 'Look here, Major; come with me and revise your verdict.'
To his surprise Counsellor stood up and asked one more question.
'Countess Isolde invited me?'
'Any number of times, as you know.'
'The more fool she,' growled Counsellor; 'I'll go.'
The cotillon, danced with its hundred absurdities, was as fashionable at Révonde as elsewhere. Counsellor, like a courtly bear, was induced to join in its whimsical vagaries.
The details of the cotillon obtaining at that period do not concern us here. It is sufficient to say that, as a result of some evolution, by chance or by choice Counsellor found himself with the Countess on a raised daïs at one end of the room, while Mademoiselle Selpdorf and Rallywood formed the corresponding couple at the other end. Between them the dance proceeded, thus leaving the respective couples virtually isolated for a few minutes.
'It was delightful of you to come to our little party to-night,' the Countess was saying to her companion. 'Now that you have come to see me here, can I not induce you to come also to Sagan next week? We are going out there for a few days. Do think of it.'
'You are too kind, my dear madame, but an old man like myself may be out of place.'
The Countess sighed a little.
'Of course you are not at all old,' she said, shaking her head at him, 'though you are fond of playing the part. But if you want to be old you can be old in good company at the Castle, for the Duke will be there—you know he is a cousin of ours.'
Counsellor looked back into the smiling blue eyes. Most men would have succumbed to their innocent flattery. To the Major they only suggested an infinite capacity for foolishness.
'Don't you think we could exchange our Duke for another, a more interesting one?' she added, misled perhaps by his look. 'Duke Gustave is so wrapped up in his stupid gambling, and altogether there are many things——' her speech tailed off inconsequently into a confused silence.
'Wanting? Certainly! For example, we have no Duchess,' said Counsellor gallantly. 'We need a pretty Duchess. But is it not possible that Maäsau may yet boast the most adorable Duchess in Europe?'
Countess Isolde started and flushed like a pleased child, and her eyes lit up as she laid her fan on Counsellor's stout knee with a confidential impulsive gesture.
'But England does not like the idea of pretty Duchesses?' she ventured reproachfully. 'And you are only a flatterer after all!'
The Major raised his bushy white eyebrows.
'Have I that reputation?'
'No, they say you are terribly frank;' then a design to sound this difficult and usually unapproachable diplomat came into her irrational head. Older men than he had been vanquished by her beauty ere now. 'England has not yet recognized my husband's claim as next heir,' she whispered. 'Major Counsellor, do you think your nation could ever be brought to recognize me as Duchess?'
'If the occasion arose,' answered the wily old soldier softly, 'I do not see—speaking as a man—how any request of yours could be refused. But I cannot answer for my nation. Still, if the occasion arose——' he hesitated as if searching for words, but in reality, waiting for his companion to take up the unfinished sentence.
The Countess trembled with excitement. This was indeed a triumph. She, 'silly Isolde,' as old Sagan was ever ready to call her, had gained a little bit of information they would give their ears to possess, but she would keep it and use it at her leisure. Meanwhile she must strike while the iron of old Counsellor's nature was yet hot.
'But the occasion will arise, believe me! Perhaps soon, at Sagan!' As she spoke she started violently, and her face turned white as Count Sagan stood before them.
'Do you feel inclined for a hand of whist, Counsellor?' he said abruptly, with a wrathful, questioning glance at his wife. 'Has my wife been boring you with her chatter?'
'On the contrary, Major Counsellor has promised to join us at the Castle next week,' exclaimed his wife.
Sagan's bloodshot eyes darkened. He had the guile of a plotter, but lacked something of the self-control. Counsellor, who appeared to be watching the dancers, turned upon this and added:
'And I have been thanking Madame de Sagan for the invitation.'
'Ah, I knew you wouldn't come! Well, you will lose nothing. We shall have a houseful of fools,' interrupted the Count roughly.
'I have already accepted, and will with your permission, Count, be one of the fools,' replied Counsellor genially.
The Countess understood she had in some way put her foot in it, but as the two men walked away together she nodded complacently to herself, with the words, 'I know what I know!'
The tide of dancers still swept backwards and forwards as Madame de Sagan idly observed them, until her glance chanced to fall upon the opposite couple at the further end of the saloon. Something in Valerie's air fixed her wandering attention at once with a little shock. What was Rallywood saying to her? And where was Anthony Unziar? The Countess Isolde had to the full the all-devouring vanity of her type, but now, for once in her life, she felt desirous of forwarding a love affair that was not her own.
'You are going to Sagan, of course?' Valerie had said to her partner as they stood together.
'I think not,' Rallywood replied.
'I thought you would be sure to be in attendance'—she glanced carelessly towards the daïs where the Countess was at the moment laying her fan on Counsellor's knee—'as usual.'
'No, Unziar is the lucky man,' Rallywood answered without significance in his tone.
'Nonsense! Anthony is her cousin!' said the girl impatiently.
Rallywood's grey eyes were on her face.
'Whose cousin? What do you mean?' he asked innocently.
Valerie bit her lip. She hated this Englishman. Of all her acquaintances he alone, in his blundering way, was able to put her somehow at a disadvantage.
'When the Duke goes to Sagan,' she said, without noticing his question, 'the Count has the privilege as colonel-in-chief of the Guard, of inviting any two officers he pleases to act with the escort. So we shall see.'
'I wonder,' said Rallywood after a pause, 'where you get your impressions from, Mademoiselle?'
'I see—like other people. We all form our judgments on what we see and—know!'
'What do you know, for instance?'
'I heard of you when you were at Kofn Ford, near the Castle of Sagan,' she answered.
Rallywood was only human, and however moderately he may have returned Madame de Sagan's preference, he was fully aware of its existence. In those days on the frontier he had, rather from fastidiousness than principle perhaps, avoided her and her invitations whenever possible. But that was one thing; it was another to hear the matter coolly alluded to by the girl beside him. Involuntarily he drew a little away from her. His notions were founded less on actual knowledge and experience of women—for of that he had little—than gathered from that idealized version of the sex with which the right-minded male animal is usually furnished by his own mental and emotional processes. So far his intercourse with Isolde of Sagan had been limited to certain sentimental passages; the initiative lay with the lady, but Rallywood had once or twice been distinctly wrought upon by the appeals to his sympathy and pity. Now, however, looked at from a fresh standpoint, the one in fact from which Valerie viewed it, the subject became suddenly repellent, and he slid away from the discussion with another question.
'What has Unziar been saying of me? You have treated me differently since—that night.'
There appeared to be no need to particularize the night.
Mademoiselle Selpdorf understood both the first involuntary movement and the change of subject, and resented them equally.
'Anthony is generous, so generous!' she said with some warmth. 'I suppose it is an English trait to take everything and to give nothing in return. Anthony told me of all that took place in the Cloister of St. Anthony. Your action seemed to him so fine, poor fellow!—but not to me. You believed in your luck, of course, and took the hazard and won, leaving him hopelessly at a disadvantage. I should not have accepted the position as he did—I should have forced you to fight it out sooner or later! I had rather a hundred times have died by your bullet than lived to endure your triumph!'
Rallywood pondered this view of the matter before he spoke.
'I dare say you are right,' he said at last; 'at least, no woman could have been so generous to another woman as he was to me.'
'You are complimentary, Captain Rallywood!'
'I beg your pardon. I only meant that women are not generous as between themselves. Looked at from your point of view, I see that I was wrong about that affair with Unziar. But more than all, it proves he is a splendid fellow.'
Now Unziar's praise from Rallywood's lips displeased Mademoiselle Selpdorf almost more than all which had gone before.
'It is easy to say these things, but'—she rose eagerly—'at last that figure is ended. What a stupid interval it has been!' she added with a little smile.
'I am sorry. I always have the misfortune to bore you,' Rallywood said, accepting his snub meekly.
'Never mind! You can't help it!' she responded with a pleasant nod as she left him.
Rallywood remained standing where he was.
'A very nasty one indeed for me. I shouldn't wonder, though, if she forgave me for the sake of that last back-handed blow!' he reflected with some amusement.
Which proves that Révonde was teaching Rallywood something that has its own value at one period or another of a man's life. He was too poor to dream of marrying anyone, much less the daughter of the Chancellor of Maäsau, a woman whose training and tastes had not been guided on the lines of simplicity or economy. That Valerie Selpdorf attracted him was a truth to which his eyes began to be opened at the moment when Counsellor asked him why he haunted Madame de Sagan's entertainments. Then it had struck him that the almost certain chance of meeting Valerie was his chief motive, yet he believed it was safe to divulge to himself, since the girl bitterly disliked him, and he, in the strength of the insular and Puritan side of his nature, disapproved of her. It was the pleasure of the hour, no one looked beyond that in Révonde, and Rallywood had fallen into the universal habit of drifting.
'You are thoughtful. What can you have been talking about?' asked the Countess, coming up.
'Mademoiselle Selpdorf has been giving her opinion of me. It is not flattering, and I am depressed,' returned Rallywood, hoping the Countess meant to talk of Valerie.
'Has she? She is often absurd in her ideas. But we need not talk of her. To turn to something pleasanter, do you know that I have just persuaded Major Counsellor to come to us at Sagan?'
Rallywood instantly perceived that the three or four days at the old frontier castle might prove to be a singularly interesting period, and regretted that he was not to be a guest also.
'And you are coming too, are you not?' went on Madame de Sagan, with a note in her voice that Rallywood was learning to dread.
'I fancy not. Unziar and Adiron have been mentioned.'
'Yes, Anthony Unziar, because he is my cousin, and for the sake of Valerie. Also Captain Colendorp. I do not like him, he is always black and sneering, but the Count chose him yesterday, and then I suggested yourself. They were rather doubtful about you, but Baron von Elmur consented. And I was so glad—Jack!'
The friendship had been progressing, it will be perceived, during the last three weeks. But Rallywood made no immediate response, being absorbed in digesting the information she had given him. That the German minister should be permitted to dictate the guests for the three days' festivities at the Castle was in itself a pregnant fact. But further, the Germans had never before possessed old Sagan's confidence; his dislike of the encroaching mammoth, whom the whole little nation feared, was notorious. This new departure was therefore ominous.
'I had no notion that Baron von Elmur liked me any better than my countrymen,' said Rallywood aloud.
'Ah, no, perhaps not; but now, you will understand, he wishes to please me!' Countess Isolde answered with an air of mysterious importance.
'He is not alone in wishing to do that,' returned Rallywood, ashamed even as he uttered it, of the meaningless compliment.
'Jack,' she said, with a proud raising of her blonde head, 'you are my friend, and of course you wish to please me. But everyone will want to stand well with me some day—when I have power—and then you shall see what I will do for those whom I wish to please!'
Every word she spoke added to the certainty that some new plot was afoot, and Rallywood glanced round for Counsellor's stout figure.
'You are glad to come to Sagan?' persisted his companion; 'say you are glad.'
'I've never been more glad of anything in my life!' Rallywood replied with truth, and then, his good angel rather than his mother's wit coming to his rescue, he got away from the dancing-salon, and found Counsellor at the entrance preparing to leave.
'I'll walk round with you, Major,' he proposed.
'I'm not going your way,' replied Counsellor. 'Besides, I wish to drive. Hullo, you have got hold of my gloves!' and snatching at the gloves—which happened to be Rallywood's—he thrust his own into the young man's hand, saying in a low voice as he did so, 'Be on the Cloister Bridge in half an hour. Good-night!'
At the appointed time, Rallywood, having replaced his military greatcoat by one less remarkable, was waiting on the bridge, when he was accosted by a hunchbacked fellow in a shabby Maäsaun sheepskin, who dropped a rough English 'Good-night,' as he passed. Presently Rallywood followed him until they came out into an open country road where the bitingtsamet them full face.