“Well!”
Reist unfastened his sword. The State uniform of the Thetian Guards was cumbersome, and the day was hot.
“Let Basil bring me wine,” he ordered. “The cathedral was a furnace. Everywhere the air seems hot with the shouting of the people.”
“Up here,” Marie said, “the clamour of voices has seemed incessant. I have never heard anything like it.”
He walked up and down moodily. He was not sure whether the day had gone according to his liking. All the time her eyes questioned him.
“One thing,” he declared, “is certain. Never again will a republic exist in Theos. Two generations ofrouésand madmen have not sickened this people of the House of Tyrnaus. Their loyalty is amazing.”
“This man,” she said, “is neitherrouénor madman.”
“It is true,” he admitted.
He drank his wine, and as he set the glass down he felt her watching him. He understood the unspoken question in her deep, blue eyes.
“Of his betrothal,” Reist said, slowly, “there was no word.”
She drew herself up haughtily, a slim, stately figure in her magnificent white dress, caught up with jewels, andthe curious bejewelled head-dress which in Theos was the symbol of her rank. Yet Nicholas, who watched her closely, caught the gleam of something in her eyes which surprised him. It was more like relief than anger.
“Was our ancient usage explained to him?” she asked.
“Yes! I told him that an unmarried king was contrary to the time-sanctioned custom of our country. I told him that the announcement of his betrothal should be made at the moment of his coronation. The people expected it, and it would add immensely to his popularity.”
“You told him that?”
“Yes!”
“And he answered?”
“He answered me with a jest. As yet he was not prepared to marry or to think of marriage. He preferred to retain his liberty.”
She bit her lip, and the colour mantled in her cheeks.
“And you?”
He hesitated.
“It was after the words of the ceremony. He was my king. Between a Reist and a Tyrnaus the difference is purely accidental. The Reists are, indeed, the older and the nobler family. But between a Reist and his king there is a gulf. I cannot point my sword against him.”
She walked restlessly up and down the room. Her thoughts were in confusion. For some vague, unacknowledged cause, her first impulse had been one ofrelief. She had expected a formal offer for her hand, and she would scarcely admit even to herself that that expectation had been a dread. Yet to be ignored touched her pride keenly. She stopped by her brother’s chair.
“What, then?” she asked. “Am I, the Countess Marie of Reist, to be flouted and passed over by a beggarly soldier, whose life has been spent as an adventurer, because the blood of the House of Tyrnaus is in his veins and chance has brought him to the throne? Nicholas, am I to look to you in vain to avenge this insult?”
The man’s eyes flashed fire.
“Be patient, Marie,” he answered. “Ughtred of Tyrnaus has lived in strange countries all his life, and imbibed the hateful modernisms of the West. Let us wait for a little. Perhaps he does not understand. Perhaps the time would seem to him too short even for a royal wooing. We will watch and wait. Meanwhile, listen. This is certain. If Ughtred of Tyrnaus lives out his reign, you and no other shall be his queen. That at least I can answer for.”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“It may be,” she said, “that when he is ready he may find his opportunity gone. The throne of Theos will be no bed of roses. In the meantime, I at least shall not go to the palace.”
Reist looked doubtful.
“It was arranged,” he reminded her, “that you should receive the wives of the Ministers. It is your right of birth.”
“I renounce it then for the present,” she answered. “Let him see how the fat old Kolashin woman will look on his left hand.”
Her brother watched her thoughtfully. Then he shrugged his shoulders.
“Women are all alike,” he said to himself, bitterly, on his way to the palace. “She is in love with Ughtred of Tyrnaus. She has drunk with him from the King’s cup. It is enough!”
“Baron Domiloff!”
She rose to her feet perplexed—a little annoyed. It was a visit which she did not understand. He came swiftly across the lawn to her, unattended and unannounced.
“I do not understand,” she said, as he bowed low before her. “My servants have no authority to send you here. I am not receiving this afternoon—and you—you surely should be at the palace.”
“I offer my most profound apologies, Countess,” he said respectfully. “Your servants are not at fault. It was my persistence which prevailed.”
“You have some message for me?” she asked, doubtfully.
“None,” he answered. “I have come here on my own initiative. You will permit me the honour of a few minutes’ interview. As to my absence from the palace, is that more likely to be remarked upon than yours, Countess?”
She waived the question.
“It is at least more surprising,” she answered. “Do you wish your Austrian friends to have it all their own way with the King?”
“The Countess of Reist’s sympathies are, I fear,” he murmured, “with my rival.”
“My sympathies,” she answered, “are with neither of you. You each seek aggrandizement at our expense. I am a Thetian, and I believe that the less we have to do with foreigners the better. But I do not see, Baron Domiloff, what profit there can be in a discussion of this sort between you and me. I am still waiting for an explanation of your presence here. Which of my servants has proved faithless?”
“None,” he answered. “I made my way here unknown to anybody. I came, Countess, to ask you a question.”
“Well!”
He did not immediately reply. There was a good deal at stake, and her manner was not encouraging. In the end it came, however.
“Is it true what they are whispering in the city—that you have drunk with Ughtred of Tyrnaus from the King’s cup?”
The Countess rose from her seat with flashing eyes. The Russian stood his ground, however, respectful, insistent, having well calculated the effect of his words.
“What an infamy—that you should dare to come here and ask me such a question. If you will not leave me at once, sir, I myself must return to the house. Your presence here is an insult.”
Domiloff stood in the centre of the path, and hismanner was the manner of a man who has something to say, and will surely say it.
“Countess,” he exclaimed, “I can claim no more with you, it is true, than the merest acquaintance, but I beg of you to consider whether I have the reputation of doing foolish things or asking foolish questions. You may not believe it, but I have the good of your country at heart. We in Russia desire an independent Theos. When I see her, therefore, drifting gradually towards certain destruction, I brave all things to save her.”
She regarded him steadfastly, still angry, but a trifle curious.
“Explain yourself, sir—if any explanation is possible.”
“Countess,” he answered, “for the sake of your country, answer my question.”
She hesitated. Her cheeks were flushed. She drew herself up proudly.
“You are well served, Baron,” she said. “Your spies, it seems, can penetrate even within the walls of the Reist house. Yet the matter is no secret. I have drunk with Ughtred of Tyrnaus from the King’s cup.”
He inclined his head slowly.
“Yes,” he said, “I was sure of it. Yet you have done well to tell me. Now I will tell you this. Ughtred of Tyrnaus before he had been King an hour sent to London to summon here an American woman with whom he had been—on the best terms in London.”
She was thoughtful for a moment.
“You are sure of this?”
“I am sure of it,” he answered.
“Is she of noble birth?”
Domiloff, who had been in New York, smiled faintly.
“She is an American,” he answered. “Her father was a shopkeeper, her grandfather a labourer. He intends to marry her!”
“That is impossible,” she answered, curtly. “The people of Theos would not permit it.”
“When did a Tyrnaus,” he asked, “ever consider the welfare or opinion of his subjects when the gratification of a caprice was concerned.”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“And why,” she asked, “do you bring this news to me?”
“To give you an opportunity of saving your country,” he answered, promptly. “See, I will risk everything—I tell you the whole truth. Ughtred of Tyrnaus is not acceptable to my master as King of Theos. We know the race too well. They are not to be trusted—the integrity of the State is not safe in their hands. There is only one man who is the Heaven-designed ruler of Theos!”
“And he?”
“It is your brother!”
Now, indeed, she was interested. A rush of colour warmed her cheeks. The frigidity of her manner vanished as though by magic.
“I myself have told him so,” she exclaimed. “When the people rose against the republic they called for him. It was the golden opportunity which he failed to seize.”
“It will come again,” he assured her, earnestly. “Igive you my word that it will come again. That shall be my care. Yours is to see that next time he is prepared.”
“Why do you not yourself speak to him?” she asked.
He smiled.
“You know your brother. The knowledge should answer that question. He has sworn loyalty to Ughtred of Tyrnaus, and for good or for evil he will keep his vow. We must wait till the thing is inevitable.”
“And I,” she murmured, “I, too, am a Reist, and he is my king.”
“You are the first lady in Theos,” he answered, “and you will not be content to bend your knee day by day before a plebeian. I will prove to you that I am sincere. If the King seeks your hand in marriage, I will not raise a little finger against him. But we will not support another Tyrnaus in another reign of folly. We will not recognize a king who places by his side upon the throne the daughter of tradespeople.”
“It would be infamous,” she murmured.
“Dear lady,” he said softly, “try to forget that I am a Russian, or that Russia was ever your fancied enemy. An independent Theos is my policy, it is your religion. Let us work hand in hand.”
The old distrust was hard to smother. She gave him the tips of her fingers.
“You can speak with me again,” she said. “I make no promises. I will watch.”
Ughtred, with a deep sigh of relief, sank into an easy-chair, and mopped his forehead in most unkingly fashion. He had escaped for a moment into the royal ante-room.
“Nicholas,” he exclaimed, “if I am to be preserved for the service of the State order me a whisky-and-soda. This is harder work than our ride from Castle Reist.”
Reist touched the bell and smiled.
“It is not yet concluded,” he said. “I have many yet upon my list who have not been presented to your Majesty. There must be no heartburnings to-night. We must make no enemies.”
Ughtred sat up with a sudden sense of injury.
“Nicholas,” he demanded, “where is your sister?”
Reist’s face was imperturbable.
“My sister,” he said, “regretted exceedingly her inability to be present. She will pay her respects to your Majesty later.”
The King frowned. His manner was impatient.
“It is now that I require her help,” he said. “The Baroness is an utter impossibility. Her French is unrecognizable, she remembers no one, and the woman herself with her dyed hair and feathers is a caricature. Your sister must really make an effort, Reist. She must come and help me out.”
“I will see that your Majesty’s wishes,” Reist answered quietly, “are conveyed to her.”
The King eyed him keenly. Reist then was concealing something. His sister’s absence was not motiveless.
“On reflection,” he said, “I desire to emphasize my wishes. Your sister’s absence is significant, and might possibly be commented upon. You will go yourself and fetch her, Nicholas. Say that I desire her immediate presence.”
“Your Majesty,” Reist protested, “my sister may have to make her toilette. Her immediate return with me will doubtless be impossible.”
“The Countess will use her own discretion as to the time she keeps me waiting,” Ughtred answered coolly. “I have told you that I shall await your return.”
Reist turned away with immovable face. Ughtred remained in the ante-room alone. He lit a cigarette, and took a pile of telegrams from the table by his side. Selecting the topmost he read it thoughtfully to himself.
“My best wishes to you and for the welfare of your kingdom. May my offering remain forever an ornament. May peace and happiness be the lot of your people and your own.—Sara van Decht.”
“My best wishes to you and for the welfare of your kingdom. May my offering remain forever an ornament. May peace and happiness be the lot of your people and your own.—Sara van Decht.”
“A coronation present with such a wish,” he said to himself, “must remain an enigma. Enter.”
An attendant withdrew the curtain.
“Captain Hartzan, of the Artillery, desires a moment’s audience with your Majesty,” the servant announced.
The King nodded.
“Let him be shown in.”
A young officer bowed low as he passed through the curtains.
“Your Majesty,” he announced, “a messenger has arrived at the barracks from the English firm of Vickers, Son, and Maxim. He is in charge of a whole battery of Maxims and quick-firing pom-poms, and awaits instructions as to their delivery.”
“I know nothing of them,” the King answered. “I understood that the firm you mention had declined the orders of the late Government.”
“It is true, your Majesty,” the officer answered, “and in consequence we have scarcely a modern gun at the barracks. The battery which has arrived here was intended for the Russian Government, but was purchased, the person in charge informs me, by a private individual for cash, as a coronation present to your Majesty.”
The King started.
“Are you sure that there is no mistake?” he asked.
“None, your Majesty,” the officer answered. “The messenger is quite explicit. It is a princely gift. Colonel Dartnoff instructed me to make an immediate report to your Majesty.”
Ughtred for a moment was puzzled.
“I know of no one,” he said reflectively, “who could make such a present.”
The young officer hesitated.
“The artillery man in charge, your Majesty, claims to have seen the donor’s cheque. It was a draft uponRothschilds, drawn by an American of the name of Van Decht.”
Ughtred caught up the telegram by his side. His eyes were suddenly bright. He understood.
“You will inform the agent in charge,” he said, “that I will receive him to-morrow, and arrange a date to inspect the battery.”
The young officer bowed respectfully, and withdrew. Reist took his place. The King eyed him sternly, for at first it seemed to him that so prompt a return was significant.
“Well, sir!”
Reist lifted the curtain. Marie stood there in Court dress, her long train held by pages in the Reist livery, her neck and arms ablaze with jewels, a coronet of pearls upon her forehead. She was a little pale, and she carried herself with more than ordinary dignity. The King rose, and, bowing low, raised her hands to his lips.
“You are very welcome, Countess of Reist,” he said, “although you are amongst the latest of those who have come to offer their good wishes.”
“I have come,” she answered, “in obedience to your Majesty’s commands.”
“Commands!” He smiled good-humouredly. “It is very unkind of you,” he said, “to have thought of deserting me on such a day as this.”
“My brother——”
“Oh, Nicholas is invaluable,” the King declared, lightly. “He can tell me what to say to the men, but it is in receiving the women I need your help.”
“The Baroness Kolashin is as well acquainted with our countrywomen as I,” Marie answered. “I did not doubt but that her aid would be sufficient.”
“The Baroness,” Ughtred answered, “has done her best; but another hour by her side would rob me of the few wits I have left. I should like to know for what special sin I was committed to her charge.”
Marie shrugged her shoulders ever so slightly, but she did not smile.
“I am at your Majesty’s service,” she said.
Ughtred was puzzled. In what manner had he offended her?
“If my message seemed to you peremptory,” he said, “will you not ascribe it to my desire to taste the full measure of my powers? I know nothing of the privileges of a king save what I have read in books. But it seems to me that included amongst them must surely be the privilege of choosing one’s companions—and one’s friends.”
“Your Majesty,” Marie answered, “may find that a rash assumption. It may lead to disappointment. Friends are scarcely to be made in a day, or to order. You must send for some of those whom you have left behind in England.”
He looked at her, curious to know if anything lurked behind those words.
“Mine has not been the sort of life,” he said, quietly, “which leads to the making of friendships. I have been a wanderer always, and a lonely one. I had hoped to fill the empty places—here.”
There was a note of appeal in his tone—dignified, yetnot in a sense without pathos. He glanced at Nicholas, but he looked first at Marie. A faint touch of colour flushed her cheeks. Her manner was visibly softened.
“I trust that your Majesty may not be disappointed,” she said. And her eyes fell before his for the first time.
A crash of music reminded them of those who still waited to bow before the King. So they passed out into the great ballroom, and mounting the dais, Marie stood on the King’s left hand. The room was a blaze of light, of brilliant uniforms and beautiful dresses. At ten o’clock, Reist came up with a look of relief upon his face, and a gleam of excitement in his eyes.
“The English Minister and his wife, your Majesty,” he murmured. “It is excellent. The others will follow.”
The news spread. A little flutter of joy rippled through the room. The coming of this dignified, kindly old man, with his grey hair and single decoration, was the one thing needed. Theos had taken to herself a King, asking leave of no one, but the countenance of some at least of the Powers was a vital thing. At the informal coronation, rushed through by Reist and his friends, not one of the Ministers had been present. Domiloff, with smooth face and with many lying regrets, had presented an interdictory note from Russia, but owing to the peculiar conditions prevailing there had not been until after the coronation any properly-appointed person to receive it. The late foreign Minister had refused it with a smile and a polite word of regret, and his example had been followed by every member of the Royalist party. There was, they explained, at the moment no government, no officials, no Minister. Theirvarious appointments were arranged for and would be confirmed immediately after the coronation. Until then they were only private persons. So Domiloff, with a suave jest and a shrug of his shoulders, shut himself up in his house, while the cathedral bells clashed and the cannon roared from the walls.
The English Minister was followed in quick succession by the representatives of France and Austria, and with their coming a certain sense of restraint passed away from the brilliant assemblage. Before there had been a certain sense of unreality in the whole thing. The tone of the rejoicings had been feverish—who could tell but that in a week this thing might not have passed away like a mirage. Now a heartier note altogether prevailed, especially amongst the men. There were no more side glances, or shrugged shoulders—the volcano no longer trembled beneath their feet. Dancing commenced, and the King stood up with Marie of Reist. At supper she remained on his right hand. Many people spoke to Reist of this.
“It is excellent, Duke,” declared old Baron Kolashin, once Commander-in-Chief of the Army. “Theos needs no outside alliance. It means only entanglement. That,” he inclined his head to where Marie and the King were talking, “will send Theos crazy with joy.”
Reist shook his head.
“You anticipate, my dear Kolashin,” he answered. “Our Court circle is, as you know, small, and Marie’s rank entitles her to receive. But this is only their second meeting. I am sure that as yet no such idea has entered the King’s head.”
Kolashin twirled his fierce moustache, and smiled knowingly.
“Eh, but my friend, there is a report that they have drunk together from the King’s cup. How about that?”
“It is true,” Reist admitted, “but the King knows nothing of the history of the cup. His offer was one of gallantry—no more. They were children together.”
The general chuckled.
“Marie is a beautiful girl,” he said. “There is none like her in Theos. Eh, but if I were young again.”
He went off smiling to himself.
Reist was touched on the arm by Brand.
“May I speak to you for a moment, Duke?”
“By all means.”
“There is still one of the foreign Ministers absent besides Domiloff.”
Reist nodded.
“Effenden Pascha. There is yet time, however.”
“Effenden Pascha is not coming,” Brand said.
Reist eyed him sharply.
“How do you know that?”
“I was at the palace gates,” Brand answered, “when Effenden Pascha drove up. He was on the point of entering when he was accosted by our friend Domiloff.”
Reist’s face grew black as night.
“The hound!” he murmured. “Go on!”
“They stayed talking for five minutes or more. Eventually they both reentered Effenden Pascha’s carriage and were driven off.”
“The wolf and the dog,” Reist cried, fiercely. “Let them beware how they bark at the gates of Theos.”
He was white almost to the lips with anger. Brand watched him curiously.
“I do not believe that you people like the Turks,” he remarked.
Reist turned upon him with a sudden violent gesture. His voice was low, but charged with passionate hate.
“Like them! To us they are as vermin, a pest upon the face of the earth. You wonder why! I tell you that it is because we know them, because their border villages are in touch with ours, we know their life and the manner of it. I could tell you things which you dare not put in print; stories which, if English people read in your paper they would brand you a liar. So, my friend, Brand, believe this. There is not a true Thetian breathing who would not rather die himself and kill his wife and children than that the Turks should enter Theos.... Pardon me!”
He moved away with a quick, expressive gesture. Brand remained in his corner, and presently the King with Marie of Reist upon his arm passed by. They paused before him.
“Come, Brand,” Ughtred remarked, “why so thoughtful? You must dance, my friend.”
“Your Majesty,” Brand answered, “I was pondering upon the inequalities of life. Yesterday I was a King, and a most uncomfortable position it was! To-day you are King—and”—he glanced at Marie—“it is a trial to one’s disposition to refrain from envy.”
Marie detached her hand softly from the King’s sleeve.
“So gallant a speech, sir,” she said, smiling, “must be rewarded. You have not yet asked me to dance!”
“It seems to me,” she said, quietly, “that all men must be ambitious, that the love of power must be a part of their very existence.”
“In England,” he remarked, “we are more circumscribed, our limits are more exact. Yet I suppose in our small way we all flutter our wings.”
“I have a curiosity to understand things,” she said, leaning back and fanning herself slowly. “Help me to understand yourself.”
He smiled.
“Do I puzzle you then?”
“A little—yes!”
“How?”
She looked at him reflectively out of her dark, full eyes. He looked into them once and turned away—he scarcely knew why.
“You do not seem to me,” she said, “like a man who would be content with small things. You outwitted Domiloff himself. Yet you call yourself a writer, and you are perhaps content?”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“Why not? There is excitement in it. One travels everywhere, meets strange types of people, penetrates into unknown countries, carries often one’s life in one’s hands. Oh, it’s not a bad life.”
“Perhaps,” she answered, “I do not quite understand.Our newspapers in Theos are different. You then are content?”
Again that curious searching gaze from the most beautiful eyes into which he had ever looked. Brand, in whose life women had played a small part, was unaccountably ill at ease. His easy nonchalance of manner had deserted him. Content! He looked for a moment into his future, and was astonished to find in it a new emptiness. She bent over towards him, and at her touch a thrill went through his veins, and set his heart beating to a new music.
“Just now,” she murmured, “you told the King—that you envied him. Was it true?”
“For the moment,” he answered, “I think that it was.”
“You then would like to be a king?”
He laughed, and answered her with a forced lightness.
“I? Not I! It would not suit me at all.”
“What did you mean, then?” she persisted.
“I think,” he said, “that I was a little lonely. You see I know none of these people. I am a stranger, and I felt a little out of my element. And then—then he came by with you, and—well, I wished I were in his place.”
She laughed very softly.
“So far as I am concerned,” she murmured, “you very soon had your wish.”
“It was very kind of you,” he said, “to take pity upon me.”
“I think that I wanted to talk to you again,” she said. “I am tired of all these people. Tell me, Mr. Brand, how long will you stay on in Theos?”
“I am not sure,” he answered, “perhaps a week, perhapsa month. It depends upon my paper. They may recall me at any time.”
She frowned, and stopped fanning herself.
“Why do you go back?” she said, abruptly. “Why do you not stay in Theos?”
“There is no place here for me,” he answered. “I am a stranger.”
“You say,” she continued, “that in your own country the limits of life are being drawn closer. Why do you not make for yourself a career in a country like this? Theos has need of such men as you.”
He shook his head.
“Theos has her own sons to direct her future. I am a stranger.”
“So is the King!”
“But he is a Tyrnaus. The people have chosen him for their King.”
“You are his friend,” she said, “and to you I may not say very much. But he is young, and he may make mistakes. He comes of a family who have done much evil here.”
Brand was startled.
“I thought that you and your brother were his chief supporters,” he said. “People are saying, too——”
Her fan stopped. Brand hesitated.
“Please to go on,” she said, imperiously.
“It is not my affair,” he continued, awkwardly. “I ought not to have alluded to it. But they are speaking of the possibilities of a marriage between you and him.”
The slow waving of white feathers recommenced. He felt that she was looking at him; almost in spite ofhimself their eyes met. He looked away with hot cheeks and burning eyes. Was this girl a trained coquette, or——
“I do not think,” she said, “that you need consider that. I do not think that I shall ever marry Ughtred of Tyrnaus.”
Despite himself he spoke the thoughts which had filled his mind.
“You,” he said, “are ambitious. Have you no desire to be a queen?”
“I love power,” she answered, “but I am a woman—and I do not wish to marry Ughtred of Tyrnaus.”
Brand told himself fiercely that he was a fool. Yet the music was suddenly sweeter, his vague antipathy to the King had vanished into thin air, the taste of life was sweeter between his teeth.
“You may think me mad,” he said, “but I am—not sorry—to hear it.”
There was a short silence. It was evident that if she thought him mad she was not displeased.
“Some day,” she said, presently, “I should like to talk to you of Theos. I believe that before long there will be great changes here. A new order of things may come—and you are one of those whom Theos may look to for help.”
“I?” he repeated. “But, indeed, Countess, you are overrating me. I am only a journalist. I know nothing of statecraft.”
“You are a strong man,” she answered, “and strong men are scarce. Promise me that you will not leave Theos without letting me know.”
“I am not likely to do that,” he said. “If ever I can help you or your country I would do it willingly. But you will remember that I am the friend of Ughtred of Tyrnaus.”
“You may have other friends—is it not so?”
The significance of her speech once more filled him with new emotions—half-delightful—half-uneasy. A sudden passionate impulse came to him to seize the little white hand all ablaze with jewels which hung over the arm of her chair so near to his. He mastered it with a stupendous effort. They sat there in a silence which was to him almost ecstatic. Then Nicholas of Reist stood suddenly before them, his black eyebrows contracted into a lowering frown.
“Marie,” he said, “the King is asking for you.”
She shrugged her shoulders, and rose without haste.
“I think,” she said, “that I have done my duty—and I am tired. I should like to go home, Nicholas.”
“You must make your adieux, in any case,” he answered, giving her his arm, and ignoring Brand. “No one is leaving yet, and there is to be a display of fireworks in the grounds.”
She looked over her shoulder to Brand with a parting smile.
“Good-night, Mr. Brand. I have enjoyed my rest very much.”
He bowed low, and remained for a moment alone in the Palm House. Through the open windows came the sound of ascending rockets hissing through the still night air—the grounds were ablaze with lights. He passed out, and mingled with the crowd of people.
Illuminations, fireworks, and the thunder of saluting cannon closed the day. The excited crowds dispersed slowly to their homes, the National Hymn ceased at last to echo through the squares and streets. Towards midnight Domiloff, who had left the palace early, knocked at the door of a large white house in the Place des Éstrangers, and was at once admitted. He passed into a hall furnished after the Turkish style, and into the presence of Effenden Pascha.
The Turk was still in the uniform and jewelled turban which he had donned for the reception at the palace. He greeted Domiloff eagerly. They conversed in French.
“It is well that you have come,” the Turk exclaimed. “To-morrow it will be known in Constantinople that you and I alone of the foreign Ministers failed to attend the reception of the new King. How am I to explain this, Domiloff?”
Domiloff nodded, and lit a cigarette.
“Listen, Effenden Pascha,” he said, quietly. “I have within the last few minutes received a message from St. Petersburg ordering me to recognize on behalf of Russia, Ughtred of Tyrnaus. It does not suit my country just at present to be at variance with the other Powers. Accordingly I must present myself at the palace to-morrow. You, however, are outside the concert. Now, listen. I speak truth, do I not, when I saythat the ancient enmity between your country and Theos is still a live thing—that but for the Powers your soldiers would long ago have pillaged Theos, and sacked the city?”
“It is true,” Effenden Pascha admitted. “What then?”
“The accession of Ughtred of Tyrnaus is not approved of by my master. As I have explained, we cannot move ourselves, for the time is not yet ripe for a European war. This, however, we can undertake. If your master should refuse to recognize the new sovereign of Theos, and should think the time ripe for an effort to regain what was once a part of the Ottoman Empire, there shall be no interference. Russia will not interfere, and Russia will see that no other Power does. You follow me?”
“Perfectly,” Effenden Pascha answered, quietly; “and afterwards?”
“The afterwards,” Domiloff remarked, with a shrug of the shoulders, “is of your own making.”
The Turk shook his head slowly.
“Domiloff,” he said, “so far all is well. But your price? Your master serves no one without a price. Wherein is to come your advantage?”
“We have none to gain,” Domiloff answered. “Simply we object to a Tyrnaus once more upon the throne of Theos.”
The Turk moved towards the door.
“There is still time,” he said. “I go to pay my respects to King Ughtred.”
“You are too late,” Domiloff cried.
“Not so,” the Turk answered, pointing through the trees. “The palace is still a blaze of light.”
Domiloff swore softly between his teeth.
“Do not be so hasty, my friend,” he exclaimed.
“My country,” Effenden Pasha answered, “is too often the tool of yours. We are to do the work, and at the last moment—the Bear’s paw. We are to conquer Theos for Russia.”
“You are entirely wrong,” Domiloff declared earnestly. “The eventual possession of the country may become a matter of private treaty between your Court and mine, but I will give you the word of the Czar that if for any reason we should desire to occupy it you shall have aquid pro quo. You shall have a free hand in Asia Minor and a loan.”
“You will give me pledges of this nature in writing?” Effenden Pascha asked.
“Certainly!”
The Turk walked to the window with a smile.
“Allah!” he exclaimed. “It will be good to hear once more the guns roar in the Balkans. We Turks, Domiloff, are a nation of soldiers, and these long intervals of peace are ill for us.”
Outside there was a sudden tramp of feet. Into the square filed a company of soldiers. They halted in front of the house. The two men exchanged rapid glances.
“What is this?” the Turk asked, quickly.
“Heaven knows,” Domiloff answered. “Listen!”
A thunderous summons at the door; voices in the hall. An officer in the uniform of the Thetian Guards entered, bearing a letter.
“To Monsieur Domiloff,” he announced, saluting.
Domiloff opened it without a word. As he read he grew pale to the lips.
“Sir,—I have the honour to enclose your passport and safe conduct to the frontier of Theos. I have informed the Czar, your Imperial master, of the circumstances which render your further presence in my dominions displeasing to me.(Signed) “Ughtred of Tyrnaus,“REX.”
“Sir,—I have the honour to enclose your passport and safe conduct to the frontier of Theos. I have informed the Czar, your Imperial master, of the circumstances which render your further presence in my dominions displeasing to me.
(Signed) “Ughtred of Tyrnaus,“REX.”
Domiloff crushed the letter in his fingers.
“Well, sir?” he said to the officer. “In the morning I will seek an audience of his Majesty.”
“I regret, sir,” the officer answered, “that my orders allow me no latitude whatever. A special train is waiting, and my instructions are to escort you to the frontier.”
Domiloff drew the Turk on one side.
“Listen,” he said, “this is a bold stroke. I half expected it. Ughtred of Tyrnaus has courage at least. I go straight to St. Petersburg. I will give pledges of what I have promised to your Minister there.”
Effenden Pascha bowed. He was most uncomfortable, but there was a certain pleasure in witnessing the discomfiture of the wily Russian.
“I shall await your news,” he answered.
Domiloff and his escort departed. Effenden Pascha at once undressed, sent for his physician and sought his bed. Before morning Theos knew of the sudden attack of malignant fever which had most unfortunately laid hold of him at the moment of starting to attend the reception at the palace.
Ughtred slackened his reins about his horse’s neck, and turning round, called to Brand, who was sitting a few yards away making some rapid sketches. The King’s cheeks were flushed with colour, and his eyes were bright.
“What do you think of that, Brand?” he asked, proudly.
He pointed to where a cloud of dust hung round the last company of galloping Thetians. The roll of the drums and the shrill music of the fifes still reached them.
“They are born horsemen, and born soldiers, your Majesty,” Brand answered, with enthusiasm. “I only wish that there were more of them.”
Ughtred smiled.
“The mountains are our chief protection,” he said, with a little wave of his arm. “The passes through which men could be poured into Theos are narrow, and for defensive purposes a small, perfectly-trained army is sometimes as useful as a large one. I am proud of my army, Brand.”
“You have reason,” Brand answered. “I am even now trying to make Europe understand what manner of men these are.”
General Dartnoff came galloping up.
“If your Majesty will ride now to Pinter’s Pass,” he said, “you will be able to trace the progress of the attack.”
The King and Brand rode off together, followed by his small bodyguard.
“Your people have said nothing yet about recalling you?” Ughtred asked.
“Nothing,” Brand answered. “I think that Theos is still being watched with interest.”
“And you yourself?”
Brand looked straight ahead.
“I am content here,” he answered. “I shall be sorry to leave.”
There was the thunder of hoofs on the turf a short distance away, and Marie of Reist in a white riding-habit and the military cap of the Thetian Guards galloped past. Her lithe, superb figure was at its best—she managed her charger with the easy confidence of a born horsewoman. Ughtred eyed her thoughtfully.
“There are not many women like that—even in England, Brand,” he remarked.
“Your Majesty is quite right,” Brand answered. “The Countess of Reist is the most beautiful woman whom I have ever seen.”
Ughtred smiled and looked down into the valley. They reined in their horses upon a small knoll.
“I think that I know one who is more beautiful,” the King said, in an undertone. “I heard this morning from our friends, the Van Dechts, Brand. They are travelling in Italy, and may come on here.”
Brand shrugged his shoulders.
“Your Majesty will find their presence welcome?” he asked.
The King looked at him in surprise.
“Surely! They are friends of mine. It would give me great pleasure to have them here. Why not?”
Brand hesitated.
“I wondered,” he said, slowly, “if they might not find their presence here a little equivocal. Your Majesty is no longer a private individual, and Mr. and Miss Van Decht, however agreeable in themselves, are not of the rank which entitles them to a familiar footing at your Court.”
Ughtred looked at his companion in some surprise.
“That speech,” he remarked, “might have come from Nicholas of Reist—from you, my friend, it sounds strangely.”
“I admit it,” Brand answered. “For myself it is true that I am a democrat, but then I am only a journalist. I have noticed that the few nobles who remain in Theos are aristocrats to the backbone. I believe that you find their principles absolutely rock-bound.”
The King frowned. His eyes had rested upon Marie of Reist, sitting upright in her saddle, and watching eagerly for the development of the sham fight.
“Well, well,” he said, “we shall see! I wish to see the Van Dechts here, and it is useless to meet trouble halfway. Be so good, Brand, as to convey my regards to the Countess of Reist, and suggest that she join us. Our position is better chosen than hers.”
Brand cantered over to her side and repeated the message. She rode with him towards the King.
“You have been much occupied lately, perhaps,” she said to Brand. “My brother tells me that you have been invisible.”
“I have been busy,” he answered. “Perhaps because of my small share in events here, I have become wonderfully interested in Theos. I have been making excursions in all directions. I want to understand many things which are hard for a stranger to form a right idea of.”
She smiled.
“Then why do you not come to me?” she said. “I can tell you very much about Theos. I can tell you about the country people, and how they live. Did I not ask you to come, Mr. Brand? You are very ungallant.”
He met a glance from her dark eyes, and his pale cheeks were suddenly flushed.
“You were good enough to say that you would receive me,” he answered. “If I may come, then, I will.”
“My brother has shown me in the English papers some of the things which you have written about Theos,” she continued. “I cannot tell you what pleasure they gave me. It is a wonderful gift, yours, Mr. Brand. When one reads one seems to see a picture of the whole place. You have written wonderfully of your adventures here.”
“And yet,” he said, in a low tone, “the adventure here which was most interesting to me, which I shall never forget so long as I live, I have not written about at all. It is for the memory only.”
Again their eyes met. He was very bold, this Englishman. Yet though her eyebrows were slightly raised she did not rebuke him.
“I think, perhaps,” she said, “that we had better obey the royal command.”
She touched her horse with the whip, and they galloped up the hillside. Ughtred watched them closely as they rode up. He made room for Marie by his side. Brand had perforce to fall behind. They talked together eagerly of the manœuvres. The girl was thoroughly well versed in the situation.
“I believe from the south,” she said, “that Theos is unassailable. If only we had more heavy guns for the passes.”
“You have seen the new battery?” Ughtred asked.
She nodded.
“Yes. The Maxims are wonderful.”
“I am expecting,” he said, “that the donor will be paying us a visit here soon.”
She looked up inquiringly.
“An American was it not?”
“An American and his daughter, Mr. and Miss Van Decht. If they come I hope that I may count upon you, Countess, to help me make their visit an enjoyable one.”
“I will do all that I can,” she answered, coldly. “I have never met any Americans. They must be wonderful people. In England they are intermarrying, is it not so, with the aristocracy?”
“There have been many such marriages,” Ughtred assented.
“It is the worst of England,” she murmured. “A great nation, but indeed a nation of shopkeepers. Amongst the nobles, the pride of race seems to have died out. The fear of poverty is to them as the fear of death. Ah, see.”
Through the pass below was a sudden movement. Little puffs of smoke burst out all over the hillside. General Dartnoff and his staff came galloping up.
“Your Majesty,” he said, saluting, “I shall ask for your congratulations on behalf of Colonel Bushnieff. The attacking force have been entrapped into the pass, and are now subject to a terrible cross-fire. Bushnieff’s guns are so placed that every one of them is effectual. I go to give the award. The defending force have easily triumphed.”
“I will come with you,” the King answered.
Brand drew back to let them pass. Marie also lingered. In a moment they were alone. He turned to her.
“You are coming?” he asked.
“I think not. I am tired. My servants are below. I shall return to Theos.”
Brand hesitated.
“My horse is lame,” he remarked.
“I do not wonder at it,” she answered. “You have been galloping about without choosing your way.”
“I too am tired,” he continued, thoughtfully.
Her lips parted.
“I shall be glad of your escort, Mr. Brand.”
They rode slowly across the open country in the waning day. Before them on the hilltop were the grey towers and the piled-up houses of Theos, a picturesque medley with their red roofs and white fronts now fast becoming blurred in the gathering twilight. As they neared the road a sudden waft of perfume from the lavender-fields beyond filled the air, and a breath ofwind came sweeping through the yellow corn-fields. Brand, with his hat in his hand, looked thoughtfully about him.
“I think,” he said, “that no man could be born here who would not die for such a country as this. I believe that I am beginning to understand what patriotism might be.”
Her face lit up in a moment.
“It is beautiful,” she said, “to hear you say that. I wish, Mr. Brand,” she added, softly, “that it were your country too. Then we should be sure of one good patriot.”
“I think,” he said, “that if trouble came to Theos I should be proud to reckon myself amongst her sons. I have never seen country people like yours. I have ridden into the furthest parts, and wherever I have seen men and women I have heard singing. I have been greeted like a friend. I have been offered bread and wine before I could even dismount. How they toil, too. No wonder the soil is fruitful.”
“Oh, it is good to hear you talk like this,” she cried, with a sudden little burst of passion. “The love of my country is in my blood—it is part of me. I could not live if Theos were dishonoured, and lately there have been so many sorrows. I seem to have found myself listening, and over the land there has been silence, no longer the whistling of the men and the singing of women. It has been as though something terrible has always been about to happen. It is a fancy, of course. Nicholas laughs at me. It is foolish! But the love of Theos is more to me than the love of life. I fear forher when for myself I have no fear. Tell me, Mr. Brand, this seems strange talk to you.”
“I know Theos, and I know you,” he answered. “I understand.”
She did not speak again for some time, but he saw that her eyes were full of tears, and he kept his face turned from her. When at last they passed into the city she spoke to him softly.
“I am indeed very foolish,” she said, “but just now I am anxious. Theos seems to have made for herself new enemies. The coming of Ughtred of Tyrnaus has provoked Russia, and it is the one country which I fear most. You will come and see me soon, Mr. Brand?”
He bowed over the hand which she held half-shyly out. It was not a form of greeting in which she often indulged.
“I will surely come,” he answered.
He left her at the Reist house and rode slowly towards his own quarters. Already the streets were lined with people awaiting the return of the King and the troops. Torches were waved hither and thither. In the open space in front of the palace a huge bonfire had been lit. Everywhere was the pleasant murmur of cheerful voices. Further down the street they were singing in a low rhythmical chant the National Anthem. Now the King was in sight, and a roar of voices welcomed him. The front of the palace blazed out in a fire of illuminations, a shower of rockets shrieked upwards from the park. The King was coming. Long live the King!
Sara Van Decht leaned back in her basket-chair and looked across the cobbled street, across the trim square where the miniature fountain was playing, to where a cluster of red-roofed, white-fronted houses were huddled together in picturesque confusion.
“Well, I think it’s delightful!” she exclaimed. “I never could have imagined anything so picturesque—or so restful.”
Mr. Van Decht scratched his chin thoughtfully and selected a cigar from his case.
“It is restful,” he admitted. “I can’t say that I’m quite accustomed to taking my meals upon the pavement, even under an awning, and there is an odour of garlic about the hotel which I don’t altogether relish. I grant you that it is restful, though! There’s no denying that!”
The girl laughed softly.
“Poor old dad,” she exclaimed. “I guess it’s selfish of me to drag you all across Europe to this little bit of a country, but I couldn’t help it a bit. I positively must see Ughtred with a crown on his head and a sceptre in his hand before we go back. It’s too delicious. Now I wonder how we ought to let him know that we are here.”
“Telephone!”
She laughed again—laughed till the tears stood in her eyes.
“Father, you must try to be more mediæval,” she exclaimed. “Fancy ringing up a king!”
“Send a boy round with a note then,” he suggested, “or shall I stroll round to the palace and let them know? I’d just as soon. It’s only a few minutes’ walk.”
“I will write,” she decided, “but there is no hurry. We will go out for a walk presently and look at these dear, quaint little shops. There are heaps of things I want to buy.”
Mr. Van Decht rose suddenly from his chair.
“Jehosophat!” he cried. “What’s that?”
It was a horse-car, old-fashioned, rickety, with canvas awnings, drawn wearily along by an aged horse. Mr. Van Decht eyed it with vast curiosity.
“Jehosophat,” he repeated. “I’d like to take that whole affair right back with us and sell it to the first dime museum that’d give the price. Look at the bonnet on the horse’s head, Sara, and the bell! My, how she bumps! I must have a talk with your King, Sara. My number-three installation is what is wanted here with overhead wires and forty Cambridge wagons. With cheap labour and water transport I guess it would be a light contract. I’m going to board the next that comes along, Sara, and get the thing into my head.”
“The streets look very narrow and hilly for cars, father.”
“Guess the whole place wants straightening out a bit,” Mr. Van Decht admitted. “If your King wantsto make this place go, Sara, he’s got to imbibe a few Western notions, and the sooner the better.”
“You shall talk to him,” Sara remarked, with a little smile at the corner of her lips. “I am sure that he will be interested.”
“I guess I can give him some ideas,” Mr. Van Decht remarked, puffing vigorously at his cigar. “You’d better write that note, Sara.”
“In a moment, father. It’s so fascinating to watch these country people with their baskets. Look! There is something you can’t beat in New York, anyhow.”
Up the steep, narrow road came a company of horse-soldiers—a gay sight—in flashing helmets, plumes, and the soft blue uniform of the Thetian Guards. A band up at the palace played them in. The people rushed to the right and to the left, lined the pavements and shouted a greeting. Then suddenly every head was uncovered, and a little respectful murmur rippled through the crowd.
“The King! Long live the King!”
Sara rose eagerly from her place at the table. They were virtually upon the pavement—a little extended near the hotel and dotted about with tiny round tables. It was Ughtred who rode at the head of the little troop of soldiers, and suddenly their eyes met. A sharp word of command broke from his lips. He dismounted and crossed the street towards them, drawing off his heavy white gloves as he came.
“Welcome!” he cried. “Welcome to Theos.”
He took Sara’s hands in his and held them tightly.
“This,” he said, “is charming of you. One moment!”
He beckoned to the officer who had been riding by his side, and gave a few brief orders. The troop passed on. Reist and a younger man in dark riding-clothes remained.
“If you will allow me,” Ughtred said, “I will take a cup of coffee with you. There is a garden here, I believe.”
The hotel proprietor came hurrying out. Reist explained what was required. They made their way into a semi-public garden, which was instantly cleared of chance loiterers. A table was set in a shady corner.
“Mr. Van Decht,” Ughtred said, “I must shake hands with you. You are most welcome. I appreciate your coming here immensely.”
“My daughter,” Mr. Van Decht explained, “has been set upon this trip ever since your friend Brand began his letters upon Theos in theDaily Courier. They have been very widely read, sir. We must congratulate you upon having taken hold of your kingdom so firmly.”
“You are very good,” Ughtred answered. “Brand has been a God-send to us. The position here has been fairly represented to England, and, in fact, Europe, through his reports. He, too, will be delighted to see you again. Miss Van Decht, you must allow me to present Captain Hartzan of the Artillery—the Duke of Reist you already know. Now, when did you arrive?”
“Last night,” Sara answered. “That dear little train of yours brought us from the frontier. We scarcely expected to see you so soon.”
“It is my great good-fortune,” Ughtred answered. “I go every morning to the fortifications to direct the artillery practice. The Van Decht battery has been in action this morning,” he added, smiling.
“I presume, sir, that this is a warlike country!” Mr. Van Decht remarked.
A shadow crept over the King’s face.
“It is not our choice,” he answered. “We are surrounded by dangerous enemies, and we are a very small nation. Our security depends solely upon our readiness to resist attack. For these last two months I have had to forget that I am a King, and remember only that I am Commander-in-Chief of our little army.”
“I presume that you are not anticipating any immediate trouble, sir?” Mr. Van Decht asked.
The King glanced round. Already he was learning the lesson of caution.
“The history of Theos,” he said, “is doubtless unknown to you. Turkey is our old and historic enemy, and her attitude towards us just now is, to say the least of it, threatening. We trust to our inoffensiveness and the good-will of the Powers to preserve our independence, but we judge it best to be prepared so far as possible to fight our own battles. Well, Crasten, what are you bringing us?”
The hotel proprietor bowed low, and filled some finely-cut glasses with liqueur from a dusty and carefully cradled bottle.
“The fin champagne, your Majesty, was brought from the cellars of Louis Philippe by my father. I trust your Majesty will approve.”
Ughtred sipped it, and did approve. He accepted some coffee also, and broke a roll in his fingers.
“This is my longest fast,” he explained, laughing. “We ride out at six to escape the heat. Part of my afternoon I spend at the barracks and part at the House of Laws.”
“It appears to me, sir, that you find pretty considerable to do,” Mr. Van Decht remarked. “I’d an idea that royalty had an easier time of it.”
“A good many people share that idea, Mr. Van Decht,” Ughtred answered, good-humouredly. “For myself, I never worked half so hard in all my life. But then, it is work I love, and for my country, which is very dear to me. Some day I hope, when things are more settled, to be able to drop the military part of my labours, and give all my attention to the development of my country.”
Mr. Van Decht nodded. He was greatly enjoying the fin champagne.
“You’re right there, sir,” he declared. “Make a nation strong commercially, and she’ll hold her own in time against the world. I guess you’re a travelled man, sir, and you won’t mind a stranger remarking that in some ways you’re a little behind the times here.”
Sara’s eyes twinkled with amusement. The young officer, who understood a little English, glanced at Reist, and was speechless.
“You mustn’t mind father,” Sara exclaimed. “You know he’s a terrible democrat, and utilitarian to the backbone. He’s dying to introduce electric cars here and electric light.”
“Why, you want them bad enough,” her father admitted. “I don’t suppose we’ve a town of half the size in the States where we haven’t both, and this a capital city too.”
“Mr. Van Decht is quite right,” Ughtred said, gravely, “only one has always to remember that this is a very poor country, and we can’t afford to pay for luxuries.”
“I guess those cars would pay for themselves before long, sir,” Mr. Van Decht declared.
“It is very likely,” Ughtred answered. “I’m sure that if any capitalist were disposed to undertake the commercial part of it, there would be very little difficulty about the concession.”
Mr. Van Decht rose up briskly.
“If you’ll excuse me, sir,” he said, “I guess I’ll hail that bobby hutch and go the round.”
The King laughed.
“You are a man of business, Mr. Van Decht,” he said. “Certainly, go and help yourself to all the information you can. Sara, if you will come up with me I will show you the palace. I am afraid there is nothing there to interest your father, but he will have many opportunities of seeing it. Reist, will you see if the carriage has come?”
For a moment they were alone.
They looked into one another’s eyes, and Sara laughed softly.
“Why, this is just the queerest thing in the world,” she murmured. “What will happen to me at the palace if I forget to say ‘your Majesty,’ and ought I to curtsey when I speak to you?”
Ughtred smiled back at her.
“I believe,” he said, “that you ought to kiss—my hand.”
“Then I guess I won’t,” she answered. “I believe I’m democrat enough to expect——”
“What?”