There could be no further hesitation. Something must be done and instantly. He gently closed the door before answering the third question. In his nervousness he spoke in English, advancing to the middle of the room. Impossible to see the woman to whom he hissed this alarming threat-he only could speculate as to its effect:
“If you utter a sound, madam, I shall kill you. Be calm, and allow me to explain my presence here!”
He expected her to shriek, forgetting that she might not understand his words. Instead there was a deathly silence. Had she swooned? His heart was leaping with hope. But she spoke softly again, tremulously, and in English:
“You will find my jewels on the dressing table. Take them and go You will not hurt me?”
“I am not here to do you injury, but to serve your Princess,” whispered the man. “For God's sake, do not make an outcry. You will ruin everything. Will you let me explain?”
“Go! Go! Take anything! I can be calm no longer. Oh, how can I expect mercy at your hands!” Her tones were rising to a wail of terror.
“Sh! Do you want to die?” he hissed, striding to the canopy bed, discernible as his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. “I will kill you if you utter a sound, so help me God!”
“Oh!” she moaned.
“Listen! You must aid me! Do you hear?”
Another heart-breaking moan. “I am here to save the Princess. There is a plot to abduct her to-night. Already there are men in the castle, perhaps in her room. You must tell me where she sleeps. There is no time to be lost. I am no thief, before God! I am telling you the truth. Do not be alarmed, I implore you. Trust me, madam, and you will not regret it. Where does the Princess sleep?” He jerked out these eager, pleading words quickly, breathlessly.
“How am I to trust you?” came back a whisper from the bed.
“Here is a revolver! Take it and kill me if I attempt the slightest injury. Where are you?” He felt along the bed with his hand.
“Keep away! Please! Please!” she sobbed.
“Take the pistol! Be calm, and in heaven's name help me to save her. Those wretches may have killed her already!”
The revolver dropped upon the clothes. He was bending eagerly over, holding the curtains back.
“My friend is in the hall. We have traced the men to the Princess's door, I think. My God, be quick! Do you wish to see her stolen from under your eyes?”
“You are now in the Princess's room,” answered the voice from the bed, calmer and with some alacrity. “Is this true that you tell me?”
“As God is my witness! And you—you—are you the Princess?” gasped the man, drawing back.
“I am. Where is Dannox?” She was sitting bolt upright in the bed, the pistol in her trembling fingers.
“He is one of the conspirators. One of the cooks and two other guards are in the plot. Can you trust me enough to leave your bed and hide in another part of the room? The scoundrels have mistaken the door, but they may be here at any moment. You must be quick! I will protect you—I swear it! Come, your Highness! Hide!”
Something in the fierce, anxious whisper gave her confidence. The miracle had been wrought! He had composed this woman under the most trying circumstances that could have teen imagined. She slipped from the bed and threw a long, loose silken gown about her.
“Who are you?” she asked, touching his arm.
“I am a foreigner—an American—Grenfall Lorry! Hurry!” he implored.
She did not move for a moment, but he distinctly heard her catch her breath.
“Am I dreaming?” she murmured, faintly. Her fingers now clutched his arm tightly.
“I should say not! I don't like to order you around, your Highness, but—”
“Come—— come to the light!” she interrupted, excitedly. “Over here!”
Noiselessly she drew him across the room until the light fell across his face. It was not a bright light, but what she saw satisfied her. He could not see her face, for she stood outside the strip of dusky yellow.
“Two men lie beneath your window, and two are coming to this room. Where shall I go? Come, be quick, madam! Do you want to be carted off to Ganlook? Then don't stand there like a—like a—pardon me, I won't say it.”
“I trust you fully. Shall I alarm the guard?” she whispered, recovering her self-possession.
“By no means. I want to catch those devils myself. Afterwards we can alarm the guards!”
“An ideal American!” she surprised him by saying. “Follow me!”
She led him to the doorway. “Stand here, and I will call the Countess. At this side, where it is dark.”
She opened the door gently and stood in the light for a second. He saw before him a graceful figure in trailing white, and then he saw her face. She was Miss Guggenslocker!
“My God!” he hoarsely gasped, staggering toward her. “You! You! The Princess?”
“Yes, I am the Princess,” she whispered, smiling as she glided away from his side. His eyes went round in his head, his legs seemed to be anywhere but beneath him, he felt as though he were rushing toward the ceiling. For the moment he was actually unconscious. Then his senses rushed back, recalling his mission and his danger.
“She is sleeping so soundly that I fear to awaken her,” whispered a soft voice at his back, and he turned.. The Princess was standing in the doorway.
“Then pray stand back where you will be out of danger. They will be here in a moment, unless they have been frightened away.”
“You shall not expose yourself,” she said, positively. “Why should you risk your life now? You have accomplished your object. You have saved the Princess!”
“Ah—yes, the Princess!” he said. “And I am sorry you are the Princess,” he added, in her ear.
“Sh!” she whispered, softly.
The door through which he had first come was softly opened, and they were conscious that some one was entering. Lorry and the Princess stood in the dark shadow of a curtain, she close behind his stalwart figure. He could hear his own heart and hers beating, could feel the warmth of her body, although it did not touch his. His heart beat with the pride of possession, of power, with the knowledge that he had but to stretch out his hand and touch the one woman in all the world.
Across the dim belt of light from the open doorway in which they stood, crawled the dark figure of a man. Her hand unconsciously touched his back as if seeking reassurance.
He shivered beneath its gentle weight. Another form followed the first, pausing in the light to look toward their doorway. The abductor was doubtless remembering the instructions to chloroform the Countess. Then came the odor of chloroform. Oh, if Anguish were only there!
The second figure was lost in the darkness and a faint glow of light came from the canopied bed in the corner The chloroformer holding the curtains had turned his screen-lantern, toward the pillow in order to apply the dampened cloth. Now was the time to act!
Pushing the Princess behind the curtain and in the shelter of the door-post, Lorry leaped toward the center of the room, a pistol in each hand. Before him crouched the astonished desperadoes.
“If you move you are dead men!” said he, in slow decided tones. “Here, Harry!” he shouted. “Scoundrels, you are trapped! Throw up your hands!”
Suddenly the room was a blaze of light; flashing candles, lamps, sprung into life from the walls, while a great chandelier above his head dazzled him with its unexpected glare.
“Hell!” he shouted, half throwing his hands to his eyes.
Something rushed upon him from behind; there was a scream and then a stinging blow across the head and neck. As he sank helplessly, angrily, to his knees he heard the Princess wail:
“Dannox! Do not strike again! You have killed him!”
As he rolled to the floor he saw the two forms near the bed moving about like shadows: two red objects that resembled dancing telegraph poles leaped past him from he knew not where, and then there was a shout, the report of a pistol, a horrid yell. Something heavy crashed down beside him and writhed. His eyes were closing, his senses were going, he was numb and sleepy. Away off in the distance he heard Harry Anguish crying:
“That settles you, damn you!”
Some one lifted his head from the carpet and a woman's voice was crying something unintelligible. He was conscious of an effort on his part to prevent the blood from streaming over her gown—a last bit of gallantry. The sound of rushing feet, shouts, firearms—oblivion!
. . . . . . . . . . .
When Lorry regained consciousness, he blinked in abject amazement. There was a dull, whirring sound in his ears, and his eyes had a glaze over them that was slow in wearing off. There were persons in the room. He could see them moving about and could hear them talking. As his eyes tried to take in the strange surroundings, a hand was lifted from his forehead and a soft, dream-like voice said:
“He is recovering, Mr. Anguish. See, his eyes are open! Do you know me, Mr. Lorry?”
The unsteady eyes wandered until they fell upon the face near his pillow. A brighter gleam came into them, and there was a ray of returning intelligence. He tried to speak, but could only move his lips. As he remembered her, she was in white, and he was puzzled now to see her in a garment of some dark material, suggestive of the night or the green of a shady hillside. There was the odor of roses and violets and carnations. Then he looked for the fatal, fearful, glaring chandelier. It was gone. The room was becoming lighter and lighter as his eyes grew stronger, but it was through a window near where he lay. So it was daylight! Where was he?
“How do you feel, old man?” asked a familiar voice. A man sat down beside him on the couch or bed, and a big hand grasped his own. Still he could not answer.
“Doctor,” cried the voice near his head, “you really think it is not serious?”
“I am quite sure,” answered a man's voice from somewhere out in the light. “It is a bad cut, and he is just recovering from the effect of the ether. Had the blow not been a glancing one his skull would have been crushed. He will be perfectly conscious in a short time. There is no concussion, your Highness.”
“I am so happy to hear you say that,” said the soft voice. Lorry's eyes sought hers and thanked her. A lump came into his throat as he looked up into the tender, anxious blue eyes. A thrill came over him. Princess or not, he loved her—he loved her! “You were very brave—oh, so brave!” she whispered in his ear, her hand touching his hair caressingly. “My American!”
He tried to reach the hand before it faded, but he was too weak. She glided away, and he closed his eyes again as if in pain.
“Look up, old man; you're all right,” said Anguish. “Smell this handkerchief. It will make you feel better.” A moist cloth was held beneath his nose, and a strong, pungent odor darted through his nostrils. In a moment he tried to raise himself to his elbow. The world was clearing up.
“Lie still a bit, Lorry. Don't be too hasty. The doctor says you must not.”
“Where am I, Harry?” asked the wounded man, weakly.
“In the castle. I'll tell you all about it presently.”
“Am I in her room?”
“No, but she is in yours. You are across the hall in”—here he whispered—“Uncle Caspar's room. Caspar is a Count.”
“And she is the Princess—truly?”
“What luck!”
“What misery—what misery!” half moaned the other.
“Bosh! Be a man! Don't talk so loud, either! There are a half-dozen in the room.”
Lorry remained perfectly quiet for ten minutes, his staring eyes fixed on the ceiling. He was thinking of the abyss he had reached and could not cross.
“What time is it?” he asked at last, turning his eyes toward his friend.
“It's just seven o'clock. You have been unconscious or under the influence of ether for over four hours. That guard hit you a fearful crack.”
“I heard a shot—a lot of them. Was any one killed? Did those fellows escape?”
“Killed! There have been eight executions besides the one I attended to. Lord, they don't wait long here before handing out justice.”
“Tell me all that happened. Was she hurt?”
“I should say not! Say, Gren, I have killed a man. Dannox got my bullet right in the head and he never knew what hit him. Ghastly, isn't it? I feel beastly queer. It was he who turned on the lights and went at you with a club. I heard you call, and was in the door just as he hit you. His finish came inside of a second. You and he spoiled the handsomest rug I ever saw.”
“Ruined it?”
“Not in her estimation. I'll wager she has it framed, blood and all. The stains will always be there as a reminder of your bravery, and that's what she says she's bound to keep. She was very much excited and alarmed about you until the room filled with men and then she remembered how she was attired. I never saw anything so pretty as her embarrassment when the Countess and her aunt led her into the next room. These people are going out, so I'll tell you what happened after you left me with the cook. He was a long time falling under the influence, and I had barely reached the top of the stairs when I saw Dannox rush down the hall. Then you called, and I knew the jig was on in full blast. The door was open, and I saw him strike you. I shot him, but she was at your side before I could get to you. The other fellows who were in the room succeeded in escaping while I was bending over you, but neither of them shot at me. They were too badly frightened. I had sense enough left to follow and shoot a couple of times as they tore down the stairs. One of them stumbled and rolled all the way to the bottom. He was unconscious and bleeding when I reached his side. The other fellow flew toward the dining-hall, where he was nabbed by two white uniformed men and throttled. Other men in white—they were regular police officers—pounced upon me, and I was a prisoner. By George, I was knocked off my feet the next minute to see old Dangloss himself come puffing and blowing into the hall, redder and fiercer than ever. 'Now I know what you want in Edelweiss!' he shrieked, and it took me three minutes to convince him of his error. Then he and some of the men went up to the Princess' room, while I quickly led the way to the big gate and directed a half-dozen officers toward the ravine. By this, time the grounds were alive with guards. They came up finally with the two fellows who had been stationed beneath the window and who were unable to find the gate. When I got back to where you were the room was full of terrified men and women, half dressed. I was still dazed over the sudden appearance of the police, but managed to tell my story in full to Dangloss and Count Halfont—that's Uncle Caspar—and then the chief told me how he and his men happened to be there. In the meantime, the castle physician was attending to you. Dannox had been carried away. I never talked to a more interested audience in my life! There was the Princess at my elbow and the Countess—pretty as a picture—back of her, all eyes, both of 'em; and there was the old gray-haired lady, the Countess Halfont, and a half-dozen shivering maids, with men galore, Dangloss and the Count and a lot of servants,—a great and increasing crowd. The captain of the guards, a young fellow named Quinnox, as I heard him called, came in, worried and humiliated. I fancy he was afraid he'd lose his job. You see, it was this way: Old Dangloss has had a man watching us all day. Think of it! Shadowing us like a couple of thieves. This fellow traced us to the castle gate and then ran back for reinforcements, confident that we were there to rob. In twenty minutes he had a squad of officers at the gate, the chief trailing along behind. They found the pile of tools we had left there, and later the other chap in the arbor. A couple of guards came charging up to learn the cause of the commotion, and the whole crew sailed into the castle, arriving just in time. Well, just as soon as I had told them the full story of the plot, old Caspar, the chief and the captain held a short consultation, the result of which I can tell in mighty few words. At six o'clock they took the whole gang of prisoners down in the ravine and shot them. The mounted guards are still looking for the two Viennese who were left with the carriage. They escaped. About an hour after you were hurt you were carried over here and laid on this couch. I want to tell you, Mr. Lorry, you are the most interesting object that ever found its way into a royal household. They have been hanging over you as if you were a new-born baby, and everybody's charmed because you are a boy and are going to live. As an adventure this has been a record-breaker, my son! We are cocks of the walk!”
Lorry was smiling faintly over his enthusiasm.
“You are the real hero, Harry, You saved my life and probably hers. I'll not allow you or anybody to give me the glory,” he said, pressing the other's hand.
“Oh, that's nonsense! Anybody could have rushed in as I did. I was only capping the climax you had prepared—merely a timely arrival, as the novels say. There is a little of the credit due me, of course, and I'll take it gracefully, but I only come in as an accessory, a sort of bushwhacker who had only to do the shoot, slap-bang work and close the act. You did the hero's work. But what do you think of the way they hand out justice over here? All but two of 'em dead!”
“Whose plan was it to kill those men?” cried Lorry, suddenly sitting upright.
“Everybody's, I fancy. They didn't consult me, though, come to think of it. Ah, here is Her Royal Highness!”
The Princess and Aunt Yvonne were at his side again, while Count Caspar was coming rapidly toward them.
“You must not sit up, Mr. Lorry,” began the Princess, but he was crying:
“Did they make a confession, Harry?”
“I don't know. Did they, Unc—Count Halfont? Did they confess? Great heavens, I never thought of that before.”
“What was there to confess?” asked the Count, taking Lorry's hand kindly. “They were caught in the act. My dear sir, they were not even tried.”
“I thought your police chief was such a shrewd man,” cried Lorry, angrily.
“What's that?” asked a gruff voice, and Baron Dangloss was a member of the party, red and panting.
“Don't you know you should not have killed those men?” demanded Lorry. They surveyed him in amazement, except Anguish, who had buried his face in his hands dejectedly.
“And, sir, I'd like to know why not?” blustered Dangloss.
“And, sir, I'd like to know, since you have shot the only beings on earth who knew the man that hired them, how in the name of your alleged justice you are going to apprehend him?” said Lorry, sinking back to his pillow, exhausted.
No reserve could hide the consternation, embarrassment and shame that overwhelmed a very worthy but very impetuous nobleman, Baron Jasto Dangloss, chief of police in Edelweiss. He could only sputter his excuses and withdraw, swearing to catch the arch-conspirator or to die in the attempt. Not a soul in the castle, not a being in all Graustark could offer the faintest clew to the identity of the man or explain his motive. No one knew a Michael, who might have been inadvertently addressed as “your” possible “Highness.” The greatest wonder reigned; vexation, uneasiness and perplexity existed everywhere.
Standing there with her head on her aunt's shoulder, her face grave and troubled, the Princess asked:
“Why should they seek to abduct me? Was it to imprison or to kill me? Oh, Aunt Yvonne, have I not been good to my people? God knows I have done all that I can. I could have done no more. Is it a conspiracy to force me from the throne? Who can be so cruel?”
And no one could answer. They could simply offer words of comfort and promises of protection. Later in the day gruff Dangloss marched in and apologized to the Americans for his suspicions concerning them, imploring their assistance in running down the chief villain. And as the hours went by Count Halfont font came in and, sitting beside Grenfall, begged his pardon and asked him to forget the deception that had been practiced in the United States. He explained the necessity for traveling incognito at that time. After which the Count entered a plea for Her Royal Highness, who had expressed contrition and wished to be absolved.
As the day wore on Lorry grew irritable and restless. He could not bring himself into full touch with the situation, notwithstanding Harry's frequent and graphic recollections of incidents that had occurred and that had led to their present condition. Their luncheon was served in the Count's room, as it was inadvisable for the injured man to go to the dining-hall until he was stronger. The court physician assured him that he would be incapacitated for several days, but that in a very short time his wound would lose the power to annoy him in the least. The Count and Countess Halfont, Anguish and others came to cheer him and to make his surroundings endurable. Still he was dissatisfied, even unhappy.
The cause of his uneasiness and depression was revealed only by the manner in which it was removed. He was lying stretched out on the couch, staring from the window, his head aching; his heart full of a longing that knows but one solace. Anguish had gone out in the grounds after assuring himself that his charge was asleep, so there was no one in the room when he awakened from a sickening dream to shudder alone over its memory. A cool breeze from an open window fanned his head kindly; a bright sun gleamed across the trees, turning them into gold and purple and red and green; a quiet repose was in all that touched him outwardly; inwardly there was burning turmoil. He turned on his side and curiously felt the bandages about his head. They were tight and smooth, and he knew they were perfectly white. How lonely those bandages made him feel, away off there in Graustark!
The door to his room opened softly, but he did not turn, thinking it was Anguish—always Anguish—and not the one he most desired to—
“Her Royal Highness,” announced a maid, and then—
“May I come in?” asked a voice that went to his troubled soul like a cooling draught to the fevered throat. He turned toward her instantly, all the irritation, all the uneasiness, all the loneliness vanishing like mist before the sun. Behind her was a lady-in-waiting.
“I cannot deny the request of a princess,” he responded, smiling gaily. He held forth his hand toward her, half fearing she would not take it.
The Princess Yetive came straight to his couch and laid her hand in his. He drew it to his lips and then released it lingeringly. She stood before him, looking down with an anxiety in her eyes that would have repaid him had death been there to claim his next breath.
“Are you better?” she asked, with her pretty accent. “I have been so troubled about you.”
“I thought you had forgotten me,” he said, with childish petulance.
“Forgotten you!” she cried, quick to resent the imputation. “Let me tell you, then, what I have been doing while forgetting. I have sent to the Regengetz for your luggage and your friend's. You will find it much more comfortable here. You are to make this house your home as long as you are in Edelweiss. That is how I have been forgetting.”
“Forgive me!” he cried, his eyes gleaming. “I have been so lonely that I imagined all sorts of things. But, your Highness, you must not expect us to remain here after I am able to leave. That would be imposing—”
“I will not allow you to say it!” she objected, decisively. “You are the guest of honor in Graustark. Have you not preserved its ruler? Was it an imposition to risk your life to save one in whom you had but passing interest, even though she were a poor princess? No, my American, this castle is yours, in all rejoicing, for had you not come within its doors to-day would have found it in mournful terror. Besides, Mr. Anguish has said he will stay a year if we insist.”
“That's like Harry,” laughed Lorry. “But I am afraid you are glorifying two rattlebrained chaps who should be in a home for imbeciles instead of in the castle their audacity might have blighted. Our rashness was only surpassed by our phenomenal good luck. By chance it turned out well; there were ten thousand chances of ignominious failure. Had we failed would we have been guests of honor? No! We would have been stoned from Graustark. You don't know how thin the thread was that held your fate. It makes me shudder to think of the crime our act might have been. Ah, had I but known you were the Princess, no chances should have been taken,” he said, fervently.
“And a romance spoiled,” she laughed.
“So you are a princess,—a real princess,” he went on, as if he had not heard her. “I knew it. Something told me you were not an ordinary woman.”
“Oh, but I am a very ordinary woman,” she remonstrated. “You do not know how easy it is to be a princess and a mere woman at the same time. I have a heart, a head. I breathe and eat and drink and sleep and love. Is it not that way with other women?”
“You breathe and eat and drink and sleep and love in a different world, though, your Highness.”
“Ach! my little maid, Therese, sleeps as soundly, eats as heartily and loves as warmly as I, so a fig for your argument.”
“You may breathe the same air, but would you love the same man that your maid might love?”
“Is a man the only excuse for love?” she asked. “If so, then I must say that I breathe and eat and drink and sleep—and that is all.”
“Pardon me, but some day you will find that love is a man, and”—here he laughed—“you will neither breathe, nor eat, nor sleep except with him in your heart. Even a princess is not proof against a man.”
“Is a man proof against a princess?” she asked, as she leaned against the casement.
“It depends on the”—he paused “the princess, I should say.”
“Alas! There is one more fresh responsibility acquired. It seems to me that everything depends on the princess,” she said, merrily.
“Not entirely,” he said, quickly. “A great deal—a very great deal—depends on circumstances. For instance, when you were Miss Guggenslocker it wouldn't have been necessary for the man to be a prince, you know.”
“But I was Miss Guggenslocker because a man was unnecessary,” she said, so gravely that he smiled. “I was without a title because it was more womanly than to be a 'freak,' as I should have been had every man, woman and child looked upon me as a princess. I did not travel through your land for the purpose of exhibiting myself, but to learn and unlearn.”
“I remember it cost you a certain coin to learn one thing,” he observed.
“It was money well spent, as subsequent events have proved. I shall never regret the spending of that half gavvo. Was it not the means of bringing you to Edelweiss?”
“Well, it was largely responsible, but I am inclined to believe that a certain desire on my part would have found a way without the assistance of the coin. You don't know how persistent an American can be.”
“Would you have persisted had you known I was a princess?” she asked.
“Well, I can hardly tell about that, but you must remember I didn't know who or what you were.”
“Would you have come to Graustark had you known I was its princess?”
“I'll admit I came because you were Miss Guggenslocker.”
“A mere woman.”
“I will not consent to the word 'mere.' What would you think of a man who came half-way across the earth for the sake of a mere woman?”
“I should say he had a great deal of curiosity,” she responded, coolly.
“And not much sense. There is but one woman a man would do so much for, and she could not be a mere woman in his eyes.” Lorry's face was white and his eyes gleamed as he hurled this bold conclusion at her.
“Especially when he learns that she is a princess!” said she, her voice so cold and repellent that his eyes closed, involuntarily, as if an unexpected horror had come before them. “You must not tell me that you came to see me.
“But I did come to see you and not Her Royal Highness the Princess Yetive of Graustark. How was I to know?” he cried impulsively.
“But you are no longer ignorant,” she said, looking from the window.
“I thought you said you were a mere woman!”
“I am—and that is the trouble!” she said, slowly turning her eyes back to him. Then she abruptly sank to the window seat near his head. “That is the trouble, I say. A woman is a woman, although she be a princess. Don't you understand why you must not say such things to me?”
“Because you are a princess,” he said, bitterly.
“No; because I am a woman. As a woman I want to hear them, as, a princess I cannot. Now, have I made you understand? Have I been bold enough?” Her face was burning.
“You—you don't mean that you—” he half whispered, drawing himself toward her, his face glowing.
“Ach! What have I said?”
“You have said enough to drive me mad with desire for more,” he cried, seizing her hand, which she withdrew instantly, rising to her feet.
“I have only said that I wanted to hear you say you had come to see me. Is not that something for a woman's vanity to value? I am sorry you have presumed to misunderstand me.” She was cold again, but he was not to be baffled.
“Then be a woman and forget that you are a princess until I tell you why I came,” he cried.
“I cannot! I mean, I will not listen to you,” she said, glancing about helplessly, yet standing still within the danger circle.
“I came because I have thought of you and dreamed of you since the day you sailed from New York. God, can I ever forget that day!”
“Please do not recall—” she began, blushing and turning to the window.
“The kiss you threw to me? Were you a princess then?” She did not answer, and he paused for a moment, a thought striking him which at first he did not dare to voice. Then he blurted it out. “If you do not want to hear me say these things, why do you stand there?”
“Oh,” she faltered.
“Don't leave me now. I want to say what I came over here to say, and then you can go back to your throne and your royal reserve, and I can go back to the land from which you drew me. I came because I love you. Is not that enough to drag a man to the end of the world? I came to marry you if I could, for you were Miss Guggenslocker to me. Then you were within my reach, but not now! I can only love a princess!” He stopped because she had dropped to the couch beside him, her serious face turned appealingly to his, her fingers clasping his hands fiercely.
“I forbid you to continue—I forbid you! Do you hear? I, too, have thought and dreamed of you, and I have prayed that you might come. But you must not tell me that you love me-you shall not!”
“I only want to know that you love me,” he whispered.
“Do you think I can tell you the truth?” she cried. “I do not love you!”
Before he had fairly grasped the importance of the contradictory sentences, she left his side and stood in the window, her breast heaving and her face flaming.
“Then I am to believe you do,” he groaned, after a moment. “I find a princes and lose a woman!”
“I did not intend that you should have said what you have, or that I should have told you what I have. I knew you loved me or you would not have come to me,” she said, softly.
“You would have been selfish enough to enjoy that knowledge without giving joy in return. I see. What else could you have done? A princess! Oh, I would to God you were Miss Guggenslocker, the woman I sought!”
“Amen to that!” she said. “Can I trust you never to renew this subject? We have each learned what had better been left unknown. You understand my position. Surely you will be good enough to look upon me ever afterward as a princess and forget that I have been a woman unwittingly. I ask you, for your sake and my own, to refrain from a renewal of this unhappy subject. You can see how hopeless it is for both of us. I have said much to you that I trust you will cherish as coming from a woman who could not have helped herself and who has given to you the power to undo her with a single word. I know you will always be the brave, true man my heart has told me you are. You will let the beginning be the end?”
The appeal was so earnest, so noble that honor swelled in his heart and came from his lips in this promise:
“You may trust me, your Highness. Your secret is worth a thousand-fold more than mine. It is sacred with me. The joy of my life has ended, but the happiness of knowing the truth will never die. I shall remember that you love me—yes, I know you do,—and I shall never forget to love you. I will not promise that I shall never speak of it again to you. As I lie here, there comes to me a courage I did not know I could feel.”
“No, no!” she cried, vehemently.
“Forgive me! You can at least let me say that as long as I live I may cherish and encourage the little hope that all is not dead. Your Highness, let me say that my family never knows when it is defeated, either in love or in war.”
“The walls which surround the heart of a princess are black and grim, impenetrable when she defends it, my boasting American,” she said, smiling sadly.
“Yet some prince of the realm will batter down the wall and win at a single blow that which a mere man could not conquer in ten lifetimes. Such is the world.”
“The prince may batter down and seize, but he can never conquer. But enough of this! I am the Princess of Graustark; you are my friend, Grenfall Lorry, and there is only a dear friendship between us,” she cried, resuming her merry humor so easily that he started with surprise and not a little displeasure.
“And a throne,” he added, smiling, how ever.
“And a promise,” she reminded him.
“From which I trust I may some day be released,” said he, sinking back, afflicted with a discouragement and a determination of equal power. He could see hope and hopelessness ahead.
“By death!”
“No; by life! It may be sooner than you think!”
“You are forgetting your promise already.”
“Your Highness's pardon,” he begged.
They laughed, but their hearts were sad, this luckless American and hapless sovereign who would, if she could, be a woman.
“It is now three o'clock—the hour when you were to have called to see me,” she said, again sitting unconcernedly before him in the window seat. She was not afraid of him. She was a princess.
“I misunderstood you, your highness. I remembered the engagement, but it seems I was mistaken as to the time. I came at three in the morning!”
“And found me at home!”
“In an impregnable castle, with ogres all about.”
Lorry was removed to another room before dinner, as she had promised.
After they had dined the two strangers were left alone for several hours. Anguish regaled his friend with an enthusiastic dissertation on the charms of the Countess Dagmar, lady-in-waiting to the Princess. In conclusion he said glowingly, his cigar having been out for half an hour or more because his energy had been spent in another direction.
“You haven't seen much of her, Lorry, but I tell you she is rare. And she's not betrothed to any of these confounded counts or dukes either. They all adore her but she's not committed.”
“How do you know all this?” demanded Lorry, who but half heard through his dreams.
“Asked her, of course. How in thunder do you suppose?”
“And you've known her but a day? Well, you are progressive.”
“Oh, perfectly natural conversation, you know,” explained Anguish, composedly. “She began it by asking me if I were married, and I said I wasn't even engaged. Then I asked her if she were married. You see, from the title, you can't tell whether a countess is married or single. She said she wasn't, and I promptly and very properly expressed my amazement. By Jove, she has a will and a mind of her own, that young woman has. She's not going to marry until she finds a man of the right sort—which is refreshing. I like to hear a girl talk like that, especially a pretty girl who can deal in princes, counts and all kinds of nobility when it comes to a matrimonial trade. By Jove, I'm sorry for the Princess, though.”
“Sorry for the Princess? Why?” asked the other, alert at once.
“Oh, just because it's not in her power to be so independent. The Countess says she cries every night when she thinks of what the poor girl has to contend with.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I don't know anything to tell. I'm not interested in the Princess, and I didn't have the nerve to ask many questions. I do know, however, that she is going to have an unpleasant matrimonial alliance forced upon her in some way.” “That is usual.
“That's what I gather from the Countess. Maybe you can pump the Countess and get all you want to know in connection with the matter. It's a pretty serious state of affairs, I should say, or she wouldn't be weeping through sympathy.”
Lorry recalled a part of the afternoon's sweetly dangerous conversation and the perspiration stood cold and damp on his brow.
“Well, old man, you've chased Miss Guggenslocker to earth only to find her an impossibility. Pretty hopeless for you, Lorry, but don't let it break you up completely. We can go back home after a while and you will forget her. A countess, of course, is different.”
“Harry, I know it is downright madness for me to act like this,” said Lorry, his jaws set and his hands clenched as he raised himself to his elbow. “You don't know how much I love her.”
“Your nerve is to be admired, but—well, I'm sorry for you.”
“Thanks for your sympathy. I suppose I'll need it,” and he sank back gloomily. Anguish was right—absurdly right.
There was a rap at the door and Anguish hastened to open it. A servant presented Count Halfort's compliments and begged leave to call.
“Shall we see the old boy?” asked Harry.
“Yes, yes,” responded the other. The servant understood the sign made by Anguish and disappeared. “Diplomatic call, I suspect.”
“He is the prime minister, I understand. Well, we'll diplome with him until bed-time, if he cares to stay. I'm getting rather accustomed to the nobility. They are not so bad, after all. Friendly and all that—Ah, good evening, your excellency! We are honored.”
The Count had entered the room and was advancing toward the couch, tall, easy and the personification of cordiality.
“I could not retire until I had satisfied myself as to Mr. Lorry's condition and his comfort,” said he, in his broken English. He seated himself near the couch and bent sharp, anxious eyes on the recumbent figure.
“Oh, he's all right,” volunteered Anguish, readily. “Be able to go into battle again tomorrow.”
“That is the way with you aggressive Americans. I am told. They never give up until they are dead,” said the Count, courteously. “Your head is better?”
“It does not pain me as it did, and I'm sure I'll be able to get out to-morrow. Thank you very much for your interest,” said Lorry. “May I inquire after the health of the Countess Halfont? The excitement of last night has not had an unpleasant effect, I hope.”
“She is with the Princess, and both are quite well. Since our war, gentlemen, Graustark women have nothing to acquire in the way of courage and endurance. You, of course, know nothing of the horrors of that war.”
“But we would be thankful for the story of it, your excellency. War is a hobby of mine. I read every war scare that gets into print,” said Anguish, eagerly.
“We, of Graustark, at present have every reason to recall the last war and bitterly to lament its ending. The war occurred just fifteen years ago—but will the recital tire you, Mr. Lorry? I came to spend a few moments socially and not to go into history. At any other time I shall be—”
“It will please and not tire me. I am deeply interested. Pray go on,” Lorry hastened to say, for he was interested more than the Count suspected.
“Fifteen years ago Prince Ganlook, of this principality,—the father of our princess,—became incensed over the depredations of the Axphain soldiers who patrolled our border on the north. He demanded restitution for the devastation they had created, but was refused. Graustark is a province comprising some eight hundred square miles of the best land in this part of the world. Our neighbor is smaller in area and population. Our army was better equipped but not so hardy. For several months the fighting in the north was in our favor, but the result was that our forces were finally driven back to Edelweiss, hacked and battered by the fierce thousands that came over the border. The nation was staggered by the shock, for such an outcome had not been considered possible. We had been too confident. Our soldiers were sick and worn by six months of hard fighting, and the men of Edelweiss—the merchants, the laborers and the nobility itself—flew to arms in defense of the city. For over a month we fought, hundreds of our best and bravest citizens going down to death. They at last began a bombardment of the city. To-day you can see they marks on nearly every house in Edelweiss. Hundreds of graves in the valley to the south attest the terrors of that siege. The castle was stormed, and Prince Ganlook, with many of the chief men of the land, met death. The prince was killed in front of the castle gates, from which he had sallied in a last, brave attempt to beat off the conquerors. A bronze statue now marks the spot on which he fell. The Princess, his wife, was my sister, and as I held the portfolio of finance, it was through me that the city surrendered, bringing the siege to an end. Fifteen years ago this autumn—the twentieth of November, to be explicit—the treaty of peace was signed in Sofia. We were compelled to cede a portion of territory in the far northeast, valuable for its mines. Indemnity was agreed upon by the peace commissioners, amounting to 20,000,000 gavvos, or nearly $30,000,000 in your money. In fifteen years this money was to be paid, with interest. On the twentieth of November, this year, the people of Graustark must pay 25,000,000 gavvos. The time is at hand, and that is why we recall the war so vividly. It means the bankruptcy of the nation, gentlemen.”
Neither of his listeners spoke for some moments. Then Lorry broke the silence.
“You mean that the money cannot be raised?” he asked.
“It is not in our treasury. Our people have been taxed so sorely in rebuilding their homes and in recuperating from the effect of that dreadful invasion that they have been unable to pay the levies. You must remember that we are a small nation and of limited resources. Your nation could secure $30,000,000 in one hour for the mere asking. To us it is like a death blow. I am not betraying a state secret in telling you of the sore straits in which we are placed, for every man in the nation has been made cognizant of the true conditions. We are all facing it together.” There was something so quietly heroic in his manner that both men felt pity. Anguish, looking at the military figure, asked: “You fought through the war, your excellency?”
“I resigned as minister, sir, to go to the front. I was in the first battle and I was in the last,” he said, simply.
“And the Princess,—the present ruler, I mean,—was a mere child at that time. When did she succeed to the throne?” asked Lorry.
“Oh, the great world does not remember our little history! Within a year after the death of Prince Ganlook, his wife, my sister, passed away, dying of a broken heart. Her daughter, their only child, was, according to our custom, crowned at once. She has reigned for fourteen years, and wisely since assuming full power. For three years she has been ruler de facto. She has been frugal, and has done all in her power to meet the shadow that is descending.”
“And what is the alternative in case the indemnity is not paid?” asked Lorry, breathlessly, for he saw something bright in the approaching calamity.
“The cession of all that part of Graustark lying north of Edelweiss, including fourteen towns, all of our mines and our most productive farming and grazing lands. In that event Graustark will be no larger than one of the good-sized farms in your western country. There will be nothing left for Her Royal Highness to rule save a tract so small that the word principality will be a travesty and a jest. This city and twenty-five miles to the south, a strip about one hundred fifty miles long. Think of it! Twenty-five by one hundred fifty miles, and yet called a principality! Once the proudest and most prosperous state in the east, considering its size, reduced to that! Ach, gentlemen—gentlemen! I cannot think of it without tearing out a heart-string and suffering such pains as mortal man has never endured. I lived in Graustark's days of wealth, power and supremacy; God has condemned me to live in the days of her dependency, weakness and poverty. Let us talk no more of this unpleasant subject.”
His hearers pitied the frank, proud old man from the bottoms of their hearts. He had told them the story with the candor and simplicity of a child, admitting weakness and despondency. Still he sat erect and defiant, his face white and drawn, his figure suggesting the famous picture of the stag at bay.
“Willingly, your excellency, since it is distasteful to you. I hope, however, you will permit me to ask how much you are short of the amount,” said Lorry, considerately yet curiously.
“Our minister of finance, Gaspon, will be able to produce fifteen million gavvos at the stated time—far from enough. This amount has been sucked from the people from excessive levy, and has been hoarded for the dreaded day. Try as we would, it has been impossible to raise the full amount. The people have been bled and have responded nobly, sacrificing everything to meet the treaty terms honorably, but the strain has been too great. Our army has cost us large sums. We have strengthened our defenses, and could, should we go to war, defeat Axphain. But we have our treaty to honor; we could not take up arms to save ourselves from that honest bond. Our levies have barely brought the amount necessary to, maintain an army large enough to inspire respect among those who are ready to leap upon us the instant we show the least sign of distress. There are about us powers that have held aloof from war with us simply because we have awed them with our show of force. It has been our safeguard, and there is not a citizen of Graustark who objects to the manner in which state affairs are conducted. They know that our army is an economy at any price. Until last spring we were confident that we could raise the full amount due Axphain, but the people in the rural districts were unable to meet the levies on account of the panic that came at a most unfortunate time. That is why we were hurrying home from your country, Mr. Lorry. Gaspon had cabled the Princess that affairs were in a hopeless condition, begging her to come home and do what she could in a final appeal to the people, knowing the love they had for her. She came, and has seen these loyal subjects offer their lives for her and for Graustark, but utterly unable to give what they have not—money. She asked them if she should disband the army, and there was a negative wail from one end of the land to the other. Then the army agreed to serve on half pay until all was tided over. Public officers are giving their services free, and many of our wealthy people have advanced loans on bonds, worthless as they may seem, and still we have not the required amount.”
“Cannot the loan be extended a few years?” asked Lorry, angry with the ruler in the north, taking the woes of Graustark as much to heart as if they were his own.
“Not one day! Not in London, Paris, nor Berlin.”
Lorry lay back and allowed Anguish to lead the conversation into other channels. The Count remained for half an hour, saying as he left that the Princess and his wife had expressed a desire to be remembered to their guests.
“Her Royal Highness spent the evening with the ministers of finance and war, and her poor head, I doubt not, is racking from the effects of the consultation. These are weighty matters for a girl to have on her hands,” solemnly stated the Count, pausing for an instant at the door of the apartment.
After he had closed it the Americans looked long and thoughtfully at each other, each feeling a respect for the grim old gentleman that they had never felt for man before.
“So they are in a devil of a shape,” mused Anguish. “I tell you, Gren, I never knew anything that made me feel so badly as does the trouble that hangs over that girl and her people. A week ago I wouldn't have cared a rap for Graustark, but to-night I feel like weeping for her.”
“There seems to be no help for her, either,” said Lorry, reflectively.
“Graustark, you mean?”
“No—I mean yes, of course,—who else?” demanded the other, who certainly had not meant Graustark.
“I believe, confound your selfish soul, you'd like to see the nation, the crown and everything else taken away from this helpless, harrassed child. Then you'd have a chance,” exclaimed Anguish, pacing the floor, half angrily, half encouragingly.
“Don't say that, Harry, don't say that. Don't accuse me of it, for I'll confess I had in my heart that meanest of longings—the selfish, base, heartless hope that you have guessed. It hurts me to be accused of it though, so don't do it again, old man. I'll put away the miserable hope, if I can, and I'll pray God that she may find a way out of the difficulty.”
They went to sleep that night, Anguish at once, Lorry not for hours, harboring a determination to learn more about the condition of affairs touching the people of Graustark and the heart of their Princess.