To BARON JASTO DANGLOSS, COMMANDING THE CIVIC AND MILITARY POLICE OFGRAUSTARK:"You are hereby informed that Baldos, the man who entered the citywith Miss Calhoun, is not to be regarded as a prisoner now orhereafter. He is to be given capable medical and surgical attentionuntil fully recovered, when he is to be allowed to go his way in peaceunquestioned."Also, he is to be provided with suitable wearing apparel and madecomfortable in every way."Also, the members of his party, now in the hills (whose names areunknown to me), are to be accorded every protection. Franz, thedriver, is to have his freedom if he desires it."And from this edict there is no recourse until its abatement by royaldecree."YETIVE."
"There," said the princess, affixing her signature "I think that will be sufficient." Then she rang for a servant. "Send to Baron Dangloss and ask him to come here at once."
Fifteen minutes later the chief of police stood in the presence of the eager young interpreters of justice.
"I want you to witness my signature, Baron Dangloss," said the princess after the greetings.
"Gladly," said the officer.
"Well, here is where I signed," said Yetive, handing him the paper. "I don't have to write my name over again, do I?"
"Not at all," said the baron gallantly. And he boldly signed his name as a witness.
"They wouldn't do that in the United States," murmured Beverly, who knew something about red tape at Washington.
"It is a command to you, baron," said Yetive, handing him the document with a rare smile. He read it through slowly. Then he bit his lip and coughed. "What is the matter, baron?" asked Yetive, still smiling.
"A transitory emotion, your highness, that is all," said he; but his hand trembled as he folded the paper.
Bright and early the next morning the party was ready for the last of the journey to Edelweiss. Less than twenty miles separated Ganlook from the capital, and the road was in excellent condition. Beverly Calhoun, tired and contented, had slept soundly until aroused by the princess herself. Their rooms adjoined each other, and when Yetive, shortly after daybreak, stole into the American girl's chamber, Beverly was sleeping so sweetly that the intruder would have retreated had it not been for the boisterous shouts of stable-boys in the courtyard below the windows. She hurried to a window and looked out upon the gray-cloaked morning. Postillions and stable-boys were congregated near the gates, tormenting a ragged old man who stood with his back against one of the huge posts. In some curiosity, she called Beverly from her slumbers, urging the sleepy one to hasten to the window.
"Is this one of your friends from the wilderness?" she asked.
"It's Franz!" cried Beverly, rubbing her pretty eyes. Then she became thoroughly awake. "What are they doing to him? Who are those ruffians?" she demanded indignantly.
"They are my servants, and—"
"Shame on them! The wretches! What has old Franz done that they should—Call to them! Tell 'em you'll cut their heads off if they don't stop. He's a dear old fellow in spite of his rags, and he—"
The window-sash flew open and the tormentors in the court below were astonished by the sound of a woman's voice, coming, as it were, from the clouds. A dozen pairs of eyes were turned upward; the commotion ended suddenly. In the window above stood two graceful, white-robed figures. The sun, still far below the ridge of mountains, had not yet robbed the morning of the gray, dewy shadows that belong to five o'clock.
"What are you doing to that poor old man?" cried Yetive, and it was the first time any of them had seen anger in the princess's face. They slunk back in dismay. "Let him alone! You, Gartz, see that he has food and drink, and without delay. Report to me later on, sir, and explain, if you can, why you have conducted yourselves in so unbecoming a manner." Then the window was closed and the princess found herself in the warm arms of her friend.
"I couldn't understand a word you said, Yetive? but I knew you were giving it to them hot and heavy. Did you see how nicely old Franz bowed to you? Goodness, his head almost touched the ground."
"He was bowing to you, Beverly. You forgot that you are the princess to him."
"Isn't that funny? I had quite forgotten it—the poor old goose."
Later, when the coaches and escort were drawn up in front of the Rallowitz palace ready for the start, the princess called the chief postillion, Gartz, to the step of her coach.
"What was the meaning of the disturbance I witnessed this morning?" she demanded.
Gartz hung his head. "We thought the man was crazy, your highness. He had been telling us such monstrous lies," he mumbled.
"Are you sure they were lies?"
"Oh, quite sure, your highness. They were laughable. He said, for one thing, that it was he who drove your highness's coach into Ganlook last evening, when everybody knows that I had full charge of the coach and horses."
"You are very much mistaken, Gartz," she said, distinctly. He blinked his eyes.
"Your highness," he gasped, "you surely remember—"
"Enough, sir. Franz drove the princess into Ganlook last night. He says so himself, does he not?"
"Yes, your highness," murmured poor Gartz.
"What more did he say to you?"
"He said he had come from his master, who is in the hospital, to inquire after your health and to bear his thanks for the kindnesses you have secured for him. He says his master is faring well and is satisfied to remain where he is. Also, he said that his master was sending him back into the mountains to assure his friends that he is safe and to bear a certain message of cheer to them, sent forth by the princess. It was all so foolish and crazy, your highness, that we could but jibe and laugh at the poor creature."
"It is you who have been foolish, sir. Send the old man to me."
"He has gone, your highness," in frightened tones.
"So much the better," said the princess, dismissing him with a wave of the hand. Gartz went away in a daze, and for days he took every opportunity to look for other signs of mental disorder in the conduct of his mistress, at the same time indulging in speculation as to his own soundness of mind.
Ganlook's population lined the chief thoroughfare, awaiting the departure of the princess, although the hour was early. Beverly peered forth curiously as the coach moved off. The quaint, half-oriental costumes of the townspeople, the odd little children, the bright colors, the perfect love and reverence that shone in the faces of the multitude impressed her deeply. She was never to forget that picturesque morning. Baron Dangloss rode beside the coach until it passed through the southern gates and into the countryside. A company of cavalrymen acted as escort. The bright red trousers and top-boots, with the deep-blue jackets, reminded Beverly more than ever of the operatic figures she had seen so often at home. There was a fierce, dark cast to the faces of these soldiers, however, that removed any suggestion of play. The girl was in ecstasies. Everything about her appealed to the romantic side of her nature; everything seemed so unreal and so like the storybook. The princess smiled lovingly upon the throngs that lined the street; there was no man among them who would not have laid down his life for the gracious ruler.
"Oh, I love your soldiers," cried Beverly warmly.
"Poor fellows, who knows how soon they may be called upon to face death in the Dawsbergen hills?" said Yetive, a shadow crossing her face.
Dangloss was to remain in Ganlook for several days, on guard against manifestations by the Axphainians. A corps of spies and scouts was working with him, and couriers were ready to ride at a moment's notice to the castle in Edelweiss. Before they parted, Beverly extracted a renewal of his promise to take good care of Baldos. She sent a message to the injured man, deploring the fact that she was compelled to leave Ganlook without seeing him as she had promised. It was her intention to have him come to Edelweiss as soon as he was in a condition to be removed. Captain Dangloss smiled mysteriously, but he had no comment to make. He had received his orders and was obeying them to the letter.
"I wonder if Grenfall has heard of my harum-scarum trip to St. Petersburg," reflected Yetive, making herself comfortable in the coach after the gates and the multitudes were far behind.
"I'll go you a box of chocolate creams that we meet him before we get to Edelweiss," ventured Beverly.
"Agreed," said the princess.
"Don't say 'agreed,' dear. 'Done' is the word," corrected the American girl airily.
Beverly won. Grenfall Lorry and a small company of horsemen rode up in furious haste long before the sun was in mid-sky. An attempt to depict the scene between him and his venturesome wife would be a hopeless task. The way in which his face cleared itself of distress and worry was a joy in itself. To use his own words, he breathed freely for the first time in hours. "The American" took the place of the officer who rode beside the coach, and the trio kept up an eager, interesting conversation during the next two hours.
It was a warm, sleepy day, but all signs of drowsiness disappeared with the advent of Lorry. He had reached Edelweiss late the night before, after a three days' ride from the conference with Dawsbergen. At first he encountered trouble in trying to discover what had become of the princess. Those at the castle were aware of the fact that she had reached Ganlook safely and sought to put him off with subterfuges. He stormed to such a degree, however, that their object failed. The result was that he was off for Ganlook with the earliest light of day.
Regarding the conference with Prince Gabriel's representatives, he had but little to say. The escaped murderer naturally refused to surrender and was to all appearances quite firmly established in power once more. Lorry's only hope was that the reversal of feeling in Dawsbergen might work ruin for the prince. He was carrying affairs with a high hand, dealing vengeful blows to the friends of his half-brother and encouraging a lawlessness that sooner or later must prove his undoing. His representatives at the conference were an arrogant, law-defying set of men who laughed scornfully at every proposal made by the Graustarkians.
"We told them that if he were not surrendered to our authorities inside of sixty days we would declare war and go down and take him," concluded "The American."
"Two months," cried Yetive. "I don't understand."
"There was method in that ultimatum. Axphain, of course, will set up a howl, but we can forestall any action the Princess Volga may undertake. Naturally, one might suspect that we should declare war at once, inasmuch as he must be taken sooner or later. But here is the point: before two months have elapsed the better element of Dawsbergen will be so disgusted with the new dose of Gabriel that it will do anything to avert a war on his account. We have led them to believe that Axphain will lend moral, if not physical, support to our cause. Give them two months in which to get over this tremendous hysteria, and they'll find their senses. Gabriel isn't worth it, you see, and down in their hearts they know it. They really loved young Dantan, who seems to be a devil of a good fellow. I'll wager my head that in six weeks they'll be wishing he were back on the throne again. And just to think of it, Yetive, dear, you were off there in the very heart of Axphain, risking everything," he cried, wiping the moisture from his brow.
"It is just eleven days since I left Edelweiss, and I have had a lovely journey," she said, with one of her rare smiles. He shook his head gravely, and she resolved in her heart never to give him another such cause for alarm.
"And in the meantime, Mr. Grenfall Lorry, you are blaming me and hating me and all that for being the real cause of your wife's escapade," said Beverly Calhoun plaintively. "I'm awfully sorry. But, you must remember one thing, sir; I did not put her up to this ridiculous trip. She did it of her own free will and accord. Besides, I am the one who met the lion and almost got devoured, not Yetive, if you please."
"I'll punish you by turning you over to old Count Marlanx, the commander of the army in Graustark," said Lorry, laughingly. "He's a terrible ogre, worse than any lion."
"Heaven pity you, Beverly, if you fall into his clutches," cried Yetive. "He has had five wives and survives to look for a sixth. You see how terrible it would be."
"I'm not afraid of him," boasted Beverly, but there came a time when she thought of those words with a shudder.
"By the way, Yetive, I have had word from Harry Anguish. He and the countess will leave Paris this week, if the baby's willing, and will be in Edelweiss soon. You don't know how it relieves me to know that Harry will be with us at this time."
Yetive's eyes answered his enthusiasm. Both had a warm and grateful memory of the loyal service which the young American had rendered his friend when they had first come to Graustark in quest of the princess; and both had a great regard for his wife, the Countess Dagmar, who, as Yetive's lady in waiting, had been through all the perils of those exciting days with them.
As they drew near the gates of Edelweiss, a large body of horsemen rode forth to meet them. The afternoon was well on the way to night, and the air of the valley was cool and refreshing, despite the rays of the June sun.
"Edelweiss at last," murmured Beverly, her face aglow. "The heart of Graustark. Do you know that I have been brushing up on my grammar? I have learned the meaning of the word 'Graustark,' and it seems so appropriate.Grauis gray, hoary, old;starkis strong. Old and strong—isn't it, dear?"
"And here rides the oldest and strongest man in all Graustark—the Iron Count of Marlanx," said Yetive, looking down the road. "See—the strange gray man in front there is our greatest general, our craftiest fighter, our most heartless warrior. Does he not look like the eagle or the hawk?"
A moment later the parties met, and the newcomers swung into line with the escort. Two men rode up to the carriage and saluted. One was Count Marlanx, the other Colonel Quinnox, of the Royal Guard. The count, lean and gray as a wolf, revealed rows of huge white teeth in his perfunctory smile of welcome, while young Quinnox's face fairly beamed with honest joy. In the post that he held, he was but following in the footsteps of his forefathers. Since history began in Graustark, a Quinnox had been in charge of the castle guard.
The "Iron Count," as he sometimes was called, was past his sixtieth year. For twenty years he had been in command of the army. One had but to look at his strong, sardonic face to know that he was a fearless leader, a savage fighter. His eyes were black, piercing and never quiet; his hair and close-cropped beard were almost snow-white; his voice was heavy and without a vestige of warmth. Since her babyhood Yetive had stood in awe of this grim old warrior. It was no uncommon thing for mothers to subdue disobedient children with the threat to give them over to the "Iron Count." "Old Marlanx will get you if you're not good," was a household phrase in Edelweiss. He had been married five times and as many times had he been left a widower. If he were disconsolate in any instance, no one had been able to discover the fact. Enormously rich, as riches go in Graustark, he had found young women for his wives who thought only of his gold and his lands in the trade they made with Cupid. It was said that without exception they died happy. Death was a joy. The fortress overlooking the valley to the south was no more rugged and unyielding than the man who made his home within its walls. He lived there from choice and it was with his own money that he fitted up the commandant's quarters in truly regal style. Power was more to him than wealth, though he enjoyed both.
Colonel Quinnox brought news from the castle. Yetive's uncle and aunt, the Count and Countess Halfont, were eagerly expecting her return, and the city was preparing to manifest its joy in the most exuberant fashion. As they drew up to the gates the shouts of the people came to the ears of the travelers. Then the boom of cannon and the blare of bands broke upon the air, thrilling Beverly to the heart. She wondered how Yetive could be so calm and unmoved in the face of all this homage.
Past the great Hotel Regengetz and the Tower moved the gay procession, into the broad stretch of boulevard that led to the gates of the palace grounds. The gates stood wide open and inviting. Inside was Jacob Fraasch, the chief steward of the grounds, with his men drawn up in line; upon the walls the sentries came to parade rest; on the plaza the Royal band was playing as though by inspiration. Then the gates closed behind the coach and escort, and Beverly Calhoun was safe inside the castle walls. The "Iron Count" handed her from the carriage at the portals of the palace, and she stood as one in a dream.
The two weeks following Beverly Calhoun's advent into the royal household were filled with joy and wonder for her. Daily she sent glowing letters to her father, mother and brothers in Washington, elaborating vastly upon the paradise into which she had fallen. To her highly emotional mind, the praises of Graustark had been but poorly sung. The huge old castle, relic of the feudal days, with its turrets and bastions and portcullises, Impressed her with a never-ending sense of wonder. Its great halls and stairways, its chapel, the throne-room, and the armor-closet; its underground passages and dungeons all united to fill her imaginative soul with the richest, rarest joys of finance. Simple American girl that she was, unused to the rigorous etiquette of royalty, she found embarrassment in the first confusion of events, but she was not long in recovering her poise.
Her apartments were near those of the Princess Yetive. In the private intercourse enjoyed by these women, all manner of restraint was abandoned by the visitor and every vestige of royalty slipped from the princess. Count Halfont and his adorable wife, the Countess Yvonne, both of whom had grown old in the court, found the girl and her strange servant a source of wonder and delight.
Some days after Beverly's arrival there came to the castle Harry Anguish and his wife, the vivacious Dagmar. With them came the year-old cooing babe who was to overthrow the heart and head of every being in the household, from princess down. The tiny Dagmar became queen at once, and no one disputed her rule.
Anguish, the painter, became Anguish, the strategist and soldier. He planned with Lorry and the ministry, advancing some of the most hair-brained projects that ever encouraged discussion in a solemn conclave. The staid, cautious ministers looked upon him with wonder, but so plausible did he made his proposals appear that they were forced to consider them seriously. The old Count of Marlanx held him in great disdain, and did not hesitate to expose his contempt. This did not disturb Anguish in the least, for he was as optimistic as the sunshine. His plan for the recapture of Gabriel was ridiculously improbable, but it was afterwards seen that had it been attempted much distress and delay might actually have been avoided.
Yetive and Beverly, with Dagmar and the baby, made merry while the men were in council. Their mornings were spent in the shady park surrounding the castle, their afternoons in driving, riding and walking. Oftentimes the princess was barred from these simple pleasures by the exigencies of her position. She was obliged to grant audiences, observe certain customs of state, attend to the charities that came directly under her supervision, and confer with the nobles on affairs of weight and importance. Beverly delighted in the throne-room and the underground passages; they signified more to her than all the rest. She was shown the room in which Lorry had foiled the Viennese who once tried to abduct Yetive. The dungeon where Gabriel spent his first days of confinement, the Tower in which Lorry had been held a prisoner, and the monastery in the clouds were all places of unusual interest to her.
Soon the people of the city began to recognize the fair American girl who was a guest in the castle, and a certain amount of homage was paid to her. When she rode or drove in the streets, with her attendant soldiers, the people bowed as deeply and as respectfully as they did to the princess herself, and Beverly was just as grand and gracious as if she had been born with a sceptre in her hand.
The soft moonlight nights charmed her with a sense of rapture never known before. With the castle brilliantly illuminated, the halls and drawing-rooms filled with gay courtiers, the harpists at their posts, the military band playing in the parade ground, the balconies and porches offering their most inviting allurements, it is no wonder that Beverly was entranced. War had no terrors for her. If she thought of it at all, it was with the fear that it might disturb the dream into which she had fallen. True, there was little or nothing to distress the most timid in these first days. The controversy between the principalities was at a standstill, although there was not an hour in which preparations for the worst were neglected. To Beverly Calhoun, it meant little when sentiment was laid aside; to Yetive and her people this probable war with Dawsbergen meant everything.
Dangloss, going back and forth between Edelweiss and the frontier north of Ganlook, where the best of the police and secret service watched with the sleepless eyes of the lynx, brought unsettling news to the ministry. Axphain troops were engaged in the annual maneuvers just across the border in their own territory. Usually these were held in the plains near the capital, and there was a sinister significance in the fact that this year they were being carried on in the rough southern extremity of the principality, within a day's march of the Graustark line, fully two months earlier than usual. The doughty baron reported that foot, horse and artillery were engaged in the drills, and that fully 8,000 men were massed in the south of Axphain. The fortifications of Ganlook, Labbot and other towns in northern Graustark were strengthened with almost the same care as those in the south, where conflict with Dawsbergen might first be expected. General Marlanx and his staff rested neither day nor night. The army of Graustark was ready. Underneath the castle's gay exterior there smouldered the fire of battle, the tremor of defiance.
Late one afternoon Beverly Calhoun and Mrs. Anguish drove up in state to the Tower, wherein sat Dangloss and his watchdogs. The scowl left his face as far as nature would permit and he welcomed the ladies warmly.
"I came to ask about my friend, the goat-hunter," said Beverly, her cheeks a trifle rosier than usual.
"He is far from an amiable person, your highness," said the officer. When discussing Baldos he never failed to address Beverly as "your highness." "The fever is gone and he is able to walk without much pain, but he is as restless as a witch. Following instructions, I have not questioned him concerning his plans, but I fancy he is eager to return to the hills."
"What did he say when you gave him my message?" asked Beverly.
"Which one, your highness?" asked he, with tantalizing density.
"Why, the suggestion that he should come to Edelweiss for better treatment," retorted Beverly severely.
"He said he was extremely grateful for your kind offices, but he did not deem it advisable to come to this city. He requested me to thank you in his behalf and to tell you that he will never forget what you have done for him."
"And he refuses to come to Edelweiss?" irritably demanded Beverly.
"Yes, your highness. You see, he still regards himself with disfavor, being a fugitive. It is hardly fair to blame him for respecting the security of the hills."
"I hoped that I might induce him to give up his old life and engage in something perfectly honest, although, mind you, Baron Dangloss, I do not question his integrity in the least. He should have a chance to prove himself worthy, that's all. This morning I petitioned Count Marlanx to give him a place in the Castle Guard."
"My dear Miss Calhoun, the princess has—" began the captain.
"Her highness has sanctioned the request," interrupted she.
"And the count has promised to discover a vacancy," said Dagmar, with a smile that the baron understood perfectly well.
"This is the first time on record that old Marlanx has ever done anything to oblige a soul save himself. It is wonderful, Miss Calhoun. What spell do you Americans cast over rock and metal that they become as sand in your fingers?" said the baron, admiration and wonder in his eyes.
"You dear old flatterer," cried Beverly, so warmly that he caught his breath.
"I believe that you can conquer even that stubborn fellow in Ganlook," he said, fumbling with his glasses. "He is the most obstinate being I know, and yet in ten minutes you could bring him to terms, I am sure. He could not resist you."
"He still thinks I am the princess?"
"He does, and swears by you."
"Then, my mind is made up. I'll go to Ganlook and bring him back with me, willy-nilly. He is too good a man to be lost in the hills. Good-bye, Baron Dangloss. Thank you ever and ever so much. Oh, yes; will you write an order delivering him over to me? The hospital people may be—er—disobliging, you know."
"It shall be in your highness's hands this evening."
The next morning, with Colonel Quinnox and a small escort, Beverly Calhoun set off in one of the royal coaches for Ganlook, accompanied by faithful Aunt Fanny. She carried the order from Baron Dangloss and a letter from Yetive to the Countess Rallowitz, insuring hospitality over night in the northern town. Lorry and the royal household entered merrily into her project, and she went away with the godspeeds of all. The Iron Count himself rode beside her coach to the city gates, an unheard-of condescension.
"Now, you'll be sure to find a nice place for him in the castle guard, won't you, Count Marlanx?" she said at the parting, her hopes as fresh as the daisy in the dew, her confidence supreme. The count promised faithfully, even eagerly. Colonel Quinnox, trained as he was in the diplomacy of silence, could scarcely conceal his astonishment at the conquest of the hard old warrior.
Although the afternoon was well spent before Beverly reached Ganlook, she was resolved to visit the obdurate patient at once, relying upon her resourcefulness to secure his promise to start with her for Edelweiss on the following morning. The coach delivered her at the hospital door in grand style. When the visitor was ushered into the snug little room of the governor's office, her heart was throbbing and her composure was undergoing a most unusual strain. It annoyed her to discover that the approaching contact with an humble goat-hunter was giving her such unmistakable symptoms of perturbation.
From an upstairs window in the hospital the convalescent but unhappy patient witnessed her approach and arrival. His sore, lonely heart gave a bound of joy, for the days had seemed long since her departure.
He had had time to think during these days, too. Turning over in his mind all of the details in connection with their meeting and their subsequent intercourse, it began to dawn upon him that she might not be what she assumed to be. Doubts assailed him, suspicions grew into amazing forms of certainty. There were times when he laughed sardonically at himself for being taken in by this strange but charming young woman, but through it all his heart and mind were being drawn more and more fervently toward her. More than once he called himself a fool and more than once he dreamed foolish dreams of her—princess or not. Of one thing he was sure: he had come to love the adventure for the sake of what it promised and there was no bitterness beneath his suspicions.
Arrayed in clean linen and presentable clothes, pale from indoor confinement and fever, but once more the straight and strong cavalier of the hills, he hastened into her presence when the summons came for him to descend. He dropped to his knee and kissed her hand, determined to play the game, notwithstanding his doubts. As he arose she glanced for a flitting second into his dark eyes, and her own long lashes drooped.
"Your highness!" he said gratefully.
"How well and strong you look," she said hurriedly. "Some of the tan is gone, but you look as though you had never been ill. Are you quite recovered?"
"They say I am as good as new," he smilingly answered. "A trifle weak and uncertain in my lower extremities, but a few days of exercise in the mountains will overcome all that. Is all well with you and Graustark? They will give me no news here, by whose order I do not know."
"Turn about is fair play, sir. It is a well-established fact that you will givethemno news. Yes, all is well with me and mine. Were you beginning to think that I had deserted you? It has been two weeks, hasn't it?"
"Ah, your highness, I realize that you have had much more important things to do than to think of poor Baldos, I am exceedingly grateful for this sign of interest in my welfare. Your visit is the brightest experience of my life."
"Be seated!" she cried suddenly. "You are too ill to stand."
"Were I dying I should refuse to be seated while your highness stands," said he simply. His shoulders seemed to square themselves involuntarily and his left hand twitched as though accustomed to the habit of touching a sword-hilt. Beverly sat down instantly; with his usual easy grace, he took a chair near by. They were alone in the ante-chamber.
"Even though you were on your last legs?" she murmured, and then wondered how she could have uttered anything so inane. Somehow, she was beginning to fear that he was not the ordinary person she had judged him to be. "You are to be discharged from the hospital to-morrow," she added hastily.
"To-morrow?" he cried, his eyes lighting with joy. "I may go then?"
"I have decided to take you to Edelweiss with me," she said, very much as if that were all there was to it. He stared at her for a full minute as though doubting his ears.
"No!" he said, at last, his jaws settling, his eyes glistening. It was a terrible setback for Beverly's confidence. "Your highness forgets that I have your promise of absolute freedom."
"But you are to be free," she protested. "You have nothing to fear. It is not compulsory, you know. You don't have to go unless you really want to. But my heart is set on having you in—in the castle guard." His bitter, mocking laugh surprised and wounded her, which he was quick to see, for his contrition was immediate.
"Pardon, your highness. I am a rude, ungrateful wretch, and I deserve punishment instead of reward. The proposal was so astounding that I forgot myself completely," he said.
Whereupon, catching him in this contrite mood, she began a determined assault against his resolution. For an hour she devoted her whole heart and soul to the task of overcoming his prejudices, fears and objections, meeting his protestations firmly and logically, unconscious of the fact that her very enthusiasm was betraying her to him. The first signs of weakening inspired her afresh and at last she was riding over him rough-shod, a happy victor. She made promises that Yetive herself could not have made; she offered inducements that never could be carried out, although in her zeal she did not know it to be so; she painted such pictures of ease, comfort and pleasure that he wondered why royalty did not exchange places with its servants. In the end, overcome by the spirit of adventure and a desire to be near her, he agreed to enter the service for six months, at the expiration of which time he was to be released from all obligations if he so desired.
"But my friends in the pass, your highness," he said in surrendering, "what is to become of them? They are waiting for me out there in the wilderness. I am not base enough to desert them."
"Can't you get word to them?" she asked eagerly. "Let them come into the city, too. We will provide for the poor fellows, believe me."
"That, at least, is impossible, your highness," he said, shaking his head sadly. "You will have to slay them before you can bring them within the city gates. My only hope is that Franz may be here tonight. He has permission to enter, and I am expecting him to-day or to-morrow."
"You can send word to them that you are sound and safe and you can tell them that Graustark soldiers shall be instructed to pay no attention to them whatever. They shall not be disturbed." He laughed outright at her enthusiasm. Many times during her eager conversation with Baldos she had almost betrayed the fact that she was not the princess. Some of her expressions were distinctly unregal and some of her slips were hopeless, as she viewed them in retrospect.
"What am I? Only the humble goat-hunter, hunted to death and eager for a short respite. Do with me as you like, your highness. You shall be my princess and sovereign for six months, at least," he said, sighing. "Perhaps it is for the best."
"You are the strangest man I've ever seen," she remarked, puzzled beyond expression.
That night Franz appeared at the hospital and was left alone with Baldos for an hour or more. What passed between them, no outsider knew, though there tears in the eyes of both at the parting. But Franz did not start for the pass that night, as they had expected. Strange news had come to the ears of the faithful old follower and he hung about Ganlook until morning came, eager to catch the ear of his leader before it was too late.
The coach was drawn up in front of the hospital at eight o'clock, Beverly triumphant in command. Baldos came down the steps slowly, carefully, favoring the newly healed ligaments in his legs. She smiled cheerily at him and he swung his rakish hat low. There was no sign of the black patch. Suddenly he started and peered intently into the little knot of people near the coach. A look of anxiety crossed his face. From the crowd advanced a grizzled old beggar who boldly extended his hand. Baldos grasped the proffered hand and then stepped into the coach. No one saw the bit of white paper that passed from Franz's palm into the possession of Baldos. Then the coach was off for Edelweiss, the people of Ganlook enjoying the unusual spectacle of a mysterious and apparently undistinguished stranger sitting in luxurious ease beside a fair lady in the royal coach of Graustark.
It was a drowsy day, and, besides, Baldos was not in a communicative frame of mind. Beverly put forth her best efforts during the forenoon, but after the basket luncheon had been disposed of in the shade at the roadside, she was content to give up the struggle and surrender to the soothing importunities of the coach as it bowled along. She dozed peacefully, conscious to the last that he was a most ungracious creature and more worthy of resentment than of benefaction. Baldos was not intentionally disagreeable; he was morose and unhappy because he could not help it. Was he not leaving his friends to wander alone in the wilderness while he drifted weakly into the comforts and pleasures of an enviable service? His heart was not in full sympathy with the present turn of affairs, and he could not deny that a selfish motive was responsible for his action. He had the all too human eagerness to serve beauty; the blood and fire of youth were strong in this wayward nobleman of the hills.
Lying back in the seat, he pensively studied the face of the sleeping girl whose dark-brown head was pillowed against the corner cushions of the coach. Her hat had been removed for the sake of comfort. The dark lashes fell like a soft curtain over her eyes, obscuring the merry gray that had overcome his apprehensions. Her breathing was deep and regular and peaceful. One little gloved hand rested carelessly in her lap, the other upon her breast near the delicate throat. The heart of Baldos was troubled. The picture he looked upon was entrancing, uplifting; he rose from the lowly state in which she had found him to the position of admirer in secret to a princess, real or assumed. He found himself again wondering if she were really Yetive, and with that fear in his heart he was envying Grenfall Lorry, the lord and master of this exquisite creature, envying with all the helplessness of one whose hope is blasted at birth.
The note which had been surreptitiously passed to him in Ganlook lay crumpled and forgotten inside his coat pocket, where he had dropped it the moment it had come into his possession, supposing that the message contained information which had been forgotten by Franz, and was by no means of a nature to demand immediate attention. Had he read it at once his suspicions would have been confirmed, and it is barely possible that he would have refused to enter the city.
Late in the afternoon the walls of Edelweiss were sighted. For the first time he looked upon the distant housetops of the principal city of Graustark. Up in the clouds, on the summit of the mountain peak overlooking the city, stood the famed monastery of Saint Valentine. Stretching up the gradual incline were the homes of citizens, accessible only by footpaths and donkey roads. Beverly was awake and impatient to reach the journey's end. He had proved a most disappointing companion, polite, but with a baffling indifference that irritated her considerably. There was a set expression of defiance in his strong, clean-cut face, the look of a soldier advancing to meet a powerful foe.
"I do hope he'll not always act this way," she was complaining in her thoughts. "He was so charmingly impudent out in the hills, so deliciously human. Now he is like a clam. Yetive will think I am such a fool if he doesn't live up to the reputation I've given him!"
"Here are the gates," he said, half to himself. "What is there in store for me beyond those walls?"
"Oh, I wish you wouldn't be so dismal," she cried in despair. "It seems just like a funeral."
"A thousand apologies, your highness," he murmured, with a sudden lightness of speech and manner. "Henceforth I shall be a most amiable jester, to please you."
Beverly and the faithful Aunt Fanny were driven to the castle, where the former bade farewell to her new knight until the following morning, when he was to appear before her for personal instructions. Colonel Quinnox escorted him to the barracks of the guards where he was to share a room with young Haddan, a corporal in the service.
"The wild, untamed gentleman from the hills came without a word, I see," said Lorry, who had watched the approach. He and Yetive stood in the window overlooking the grounds from the princess's boudoir, Beverly had just entered and thrown herself upon a divan.
"Yes, he's here," she said shortly.
"How long do you, with all your cleverness, expect to hoodwink him into the belief that you are the princess?" asked Yetive, amused but anxious.
"He's a great fool for being hoodwinked at all," said Beverly, very much at odds with her protege. "In an hour from now he will know the truth and will be howling like a madman for his freedom."
"Not so soon as that, Beverly," said Lorry consolingly. "The guards and officers have their instructions to keep him in the dark as long as possible."
"Well, I'm tired and mad and hungry and everything else that isn't compatible. Let's talk about the war," said Beverly, the sunshine in her face momentarily eclipsed by the dark cloud of disappointment.
Baldos was notified that duty would be assigned to him in the morning. He went through the formalities which bound him to the service for six months, listening indifferently to the words that foretold the fate of a traitor. It was not until his hew uniform and equipment came into his possession that he remembered the note resting in his pocket. He drew it out and began to read it with the slight interest of one who has anticipated the effect. But not for long was he to remain apathetic. The first few lines brought a look of understanding to his eyes; then he laughed the easy laugh of one who has cast care and confidence to the winds. This is what he read:
"She is not the princess. We have been duped. Last night I learned the truth. She is Miss Calhoun, an American, going to be a guest at the castle. Refuse to go with her into Edelweiss. It may be a trap and may mean death. Question her boldly before committing yourself."
There came the natural impulse to make a dash for the outside world, fighting his way through if necessary. Looking back over the ground, he wondered how he could have been deceived at all by the unconventional American. In the clear light of retrospection he now saw how impossible it was for her to have been the princess. Every act, every word, every look should have told him the truth. Every flaw in her masquerading now presented itself to him and he was compelled to laugh at his own simplicity. Caution, after all, was the largest component part of his makeup; the craftiness of the hunted was deeply rooted in his being. He saw a very serious side to the adventure. Stretching himself upon the cot in the corner of the room he gave himself over to plotting, planning, thinking.
In the midst of his thoughts a sudden light burst in upon him. His eyes gleamed with a new fire, his heart leaped with new animation, his blood ran warm again. Leaping to his feet he ran to the window to re-read the note from old Franz. Then he settled back and laughed with a fervor that cleared the brain of a thousand vague misgivings.
"She is Miss Calhoun, an American going to be a guest at the castle,"—not the princess, butMissCalhoun. Once more the memory of the clear gray eyes leaped into life; again he saw her asleep in the coach on the road from Ganlook; again he recalled the fervent throbs his guilty heart had felt as he looked upon this fair creature, at one time the supposed treasure of another man. Now she was Miss Calhoun, and her gray eyes, her entrancing smile, her wondrous vivacity were not for one man alone. It was marvelous what a change this sudden realization wrought in the view ahead of him. The whole situation seemed to be transformed into something more desirable than ever before. His face cleared, his spirits leaped higher and higher with the buoyancy of fresh relief, his confidence in himself crept back into existence. And all because the fair deceiver, the slim girl with the brave gray eyes who had drawn him into a net, was not a princess!
Something told him that she had not drawn him into his present position with any desire to injure or with the slightest sense of malice. To her it had been a merry jest, a pleasant comedy. Underneath all he saw the goodness of her motive in taking him from the old life, and putting him into his present position of trust. He had helped her, and she was ready to help him to the limit of her power. His position in Edelweiss was clearly enough defined. The more he thought of it, the more justifiable it seemed as viewed from her point of observation. How long she hoped to keep him in the dark he could not tell. The outcome would be entertaining; her efforts to deceive. If she kept them up, would be amusing. Altogether, he was ready, with the leisure and joy of youth, to await developments and to enjoy the comedy from a point of view which she could not at once suspect.
His subtle efforts to draw Haddan into a discussion of the princess and her household resulted unsatisfactorily. The young guard was annoyingly unresponsive. He had his secret instructions and could not be inveigled into betraying himself. Baldos went to sleep that night with his mind confused by doubts. His talk with Haddan had left him quite undecided as to the value of old Franz's warning. Either Franz was mistaken, or Haddan was a most skilful dissembler. It struck him as utterly beyond the pale of reason that the entire castle guard should have been enlisted in the scheme to deceive him. When sleep came, he was contenting himself with the thought that morning doubtless would give him clearer insight to the situation.
Both he and Beverly Calhoun were ignorant of the true conditions that attached themselves to the new recruit. Baron Dangloss alone knew that Haddan was a trusted agent of the secret service, with instructions to shadow the newcomer day and night. That there was a mystery surrounding the character of Baldos, the goat-hunter, Dangloss did not question for an instant: and in spite of the instructions received at the outset, he was using all his skill to unravel it.
Baldos was not summoned to the castle until noon. His serene indifference to the outcome of the visit was calculated to deceive the friendly but watchful Haddan. Dressed carefully in the close-fitting uniform of the royal guard, taller than most of his fellows, handsomer by far than any, he was the most noticeable figure in and about the barracks. Haddan coached him in the way he was to approach the princess, Baldos listening with exaggerated intentness and with deep regard for detail.
Beverly was in the small audience-room off the main reception hall when he was ushered into her presence. The servants and ladies-in-waiting disappeared at a signal from her. She arose to greet him and he knelt to kiss her hand. For a moment her tongue was bound. The keen eyes of the new guard had looked into hers with a directness that seemed to penetrate her brain. That this scene was to be one of the most interesting in the little comedy was proved by the fact that two eager young women were hidden behind a heavy curtain in a corner of the room. The Princess Yetive and the Countess Dagmar were there to enjoy Beverly's first hour of authority, and she was aware of their presence.
"Have they told you that you are to act as my especial guard and escort?" she asked, with a queer flutter in her voice. Somehow this tall fellow with the broad shoulders was not the same as the ragged goat-hunter she had known at first.
"No, your highness," said he, easily. "I have come for instructions. It pleases me to know that I am to have a place of honor and trust such as this."
"General Marlanx has told me that a vacancy exists, and I have selected you to fill it. The compensation will be attended to by the proper persons, and your duties will be explained to you by one of the officers. This afternoon, I believe, you are to accompany me on my visit to the fortress, which I am to inspect."
"Very well, your highness," he respectfully said. He was thinking of Miss Calhoun, an American girl, although he called her "your highness." "May I be permitted to ask for instructions that can come only from your highness?"
"Certainly," she replied. His manner was more deferential than she had ever known it to be, but he threw a bomb into her fine composure with his next remark. He addressed her in the Graustark language:
"Is it your desire that I shall continue to address you in English?"
Beverly's face turned a bit red and her eyes wavered. By a wonderful effort she retained her self-control, stammering ever so faintly when she said in English:
"I wish you would speak English," unwittingly giving answer to his question. "I shall insist upon that. Your English is too good to be spoiled."
Then he made a bold test, his first having failed. He spoke once more in the native tongue, this time softly and earnestly.
"As you wish, your highness, but I think it is a most ridiculous practice," he said, and his heart lost none of its courage. Beverly looked at him almost pathetically. She knew that behind the curtain two young women were enjoying her discomfiture. Something told her that they were stifling their mirth with dainty lace-bordered handkerchiefs.
"That will do, sir," she managed to say firmly. "It's very nice of you, but after this pay your homage in English," she went on, taking a long chance on his remark. It must have been complimentary, she reasoned. As for Baldos, the faintest sign of a smile touched his lips and his eyes were twinkling as he bent his head quickly. Franz was right; she did not know a word of the Graustark language.
"I have entered the service for six months, your highness," he said in English. "You have honored me, and I give my heart as well as my arm to your cause."
Beverly, breathing easier, was properly impressed by this promise of fealty. She was looking with pride upon the figure of her stalwart protege.
"I hope you have destroyed that horrid black patch," she said.
"It has gone to keep company with other devoted but deserted friends," he said, a tinge of bitterness in his voice.
"The uniform is vastly becoming," she went on, realizing helplessly that she was providing intense amusement for the unseen auditors.
"It shames the rags in which you found me."
"I shall never forget them, Baldos," she said, with a strange earnestness in her voice.
"May I presume to inquire after the health of your good Aunt Fanny and—although I did not see him—your Uncle Sam?" he asked, with a face as straight and sincere as that of a judge. Beverly swallowed suddenly and checked a laugh with some difficulty.
"Aunt Fanny is never ill. Some day I shall tell you more of Uncle Sam. It will interest you."
"Another question, if it please your highness. Do you expect to return to America soon?"
This was the unexpected, but she met it with admirable composure.
"It depends upon the time when Prince Dantan resumes the throne in Dawsbergen," she said.
"And that day may never come," said he, such mocking regret in his voice that she looked upon him with newer interest.
"Why, I really believe you want to go to America," she cried.
The eyes of Baldos had been furtively drawn to the curtain more than once during the last few minutes. An occasional movement of the long oriental hangings attracted his attention. It dawned upon him that the little play was being overheard, whether by spies or conspirators he knew not. Resentment sprang up in his breast and gave birth to a daring that was as spectacular as it was confounding. With long, noiseless strides, he reached the door before Beverly could interpose. She half started from her chair, her eyes wide with dismay, her lips parted, but his hand was already clutching the curtain. He drew it aside relentlessly.
Two startled women stood exposed to view, smiles dying on their amazed faces. Their backs were against the closed door and two hands clutching handkerchiefs dropped from a most significant altitude. One of them flashed an imperious glance at the bold discoverer, and he knew he was looking upon the real princess of Graustark. He did not lose his composure. Without a tremor he turned to the American girl.
"Your highness," he said clearly, coolly, "I fear we have spies and eavesdroppers here. Is your court made up of—I should say, they are doubtless a pair of curious ladies-in-waiting. Shall I begin my service, your highness, by escorting them to yonder door?"