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diff --git a/40414-0.txt b/40414-0.txt index d519ba1..a4c251d 100644 --- a/40414-0.txt +++ b/40414-0.txt @@ -1,24 +1,4 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sophy of Kravonia, by Anthony Hope - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Sophy of Kravonia - A Novel - -Author: Anthony Hope - -Release Date: August 5, 2012 [EBook #40414] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOPHY OF KRAVONIA *** - - - - -Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - - - SOPHY OF KRAVONIA - - A Novel - - BY ANTHONY HOPE - - AUTHOR OF "THE PRISONER OF ZENDA," "THE INTRUSIONS OF PEGGY," ETC. - - NEW YORK AND LONDON - HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS - MCMVI - - Copyright, 1905, by ANTHONY HOPE HAWKINS. - - _All rights reserved._ - - Published October, 1906. - - - - - CONTENTS - - - INTRODUCTION v - - - PART I - - MORPINGHAM - - I. ENOCH GROUCH'S DAUGHTER 3 - - II. THE COOK AND THE CATECHISM 10 - - III. BEAUTIFUL JULIA--AND MY LORD 19 - - IV. FATE'S WAY--OR LADY MEG'S 29 - - V. THE VISION OF "SOMETHING BRIGHT" 40 - - - PART II - - PARIS - - I. PHAROS, MANTIS, AND CO. 45 - - II. THE LORD OF YOUTH 55 - - III. THE NOTE--AND NO REASONS 64 - - IV. THE PICTURE AND THE STAR 72 - - - PART III - - KRAVONIA - - I. THE NAME-DAY OF THE KING 79 - - II. AT THE GOLDEN LION 90 - - III. THE VIRGIN WITH THE LAMP 101 - - IV. THE MESSAGE OF THE NIGHT 110 - - V. A QUESTION OF MEMORY 118 - - VI. "IMPOSSIBLE" OR "IMMEDIATE"? 129 - - VII. THE BARONESS GOES TO COURT 139 - - VIII. MONSEIGNEUR'S UNIFORM 149 - - IX. COUNTESS ELLENBURG PRAYS 159 - - X. THE SOUND OF A TRUMPET 169 - - XI. M. ZERKOVITCH'S BEDROOM FIRE 180 - - XII. JOYFUL OF HEART 193 - - XIII. A DELICATE DUTY 203 - - XIV. HIS MAJESTY DIES--TO-MORROW! 216 - - XV. A JOB FOR CAPTAIN HERCULES 225 - - XVI. A FRENCHMAN AND A MATTRESS 235 - - XVII. INGENIOUS COLONEL STAFNITZ 246 - - XVIII. TO THE FAITHFUL CITY 258 - - XIX. THE SILVER RING 267 - - XX. THEY HAVE COLDS IN SLAVNA 280 - - XXI. ON SATURDAY AT MIKLEVNI! 292 - - XXII. JEALOUS OF DEATH 303 - - XXIII. A WOMAN AND A GHOST 313 - - XXIV. TRUE TO HER LOVE 325 - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - -The following narrative falls naturally into three divisions, -corresponding to distinct and clearly marked periods of Sophy's life. Of -the first and second--her childhood at Morpingham and her sojourn in -Paris--the records are fragmentary, and tradition does little to -supplement them. As regards Morpingham, the loss is small. The annals of -a little maid-servant may be left in vagueness without much loss. Enough -remains to show both the manner of child Sophy was and how it fell out -that she spread her wings and left the Essex village far behind her. It -is a different affair when we come to the French period. The years spent -in and near Paris, in the care and under the roof of Lady Margaret -Duddington, were of crucial moment in Sophy's development. They changed -her from what she had been and made her what she was to be. Without -Paris, Kravonia, still extraordinary, would have been impossible. - -Yet the surviving history of Paris and the life there is scanty. Only a -sketch is possible. A record existed--and a fairly full one--in the -Julia Robins correspondence; that we know from Miss Robins herself. But -the letters written from Paris by Sophy to her lifelong friend have, -with some few exceptions, perished. Miss Robins accounts for this--and -in view of her careful preservation of later correspondence, her apology -must be accepted--by the fact that during these years--from 1866 to -1870--she was constantly travelling from town to town and from lodging -to lodging, as a member of various theatrical companies; this nomadic -existence did not promote the careful and methodical storage of her -letters. It may, of course, be added that no such obvious interest -attached to these records as gathered round Sophy's doings after she had -exchanged Paris and the Rue de Grenelle for Slavna and the Castle of -Praslok. - -When this migration has been effected, the historian is on much firmer -ground; he is even embarrassed sometimes by the abundance of material of -varying value. Apart from public records and general memory (both -carefully consulted on the spot), the two main sources flow from Sophy's -own hand. They are the Robins correspondence and the diary. Nearly to -the end the letters are very constant, very full, very instructive; but -they are composed with an obvious view to the tastes and interests of -their recipient, and by no means always devote most space to what now -seems of greatest interest. In one point, however, Miss Robins's tastes -prove of real service. This lady, who rose to a respectable, if not a -high, position as a Shakespearian actress, was much devoted to the study -of costume, and Sophy, aware of this hobby, never omits to tell her with -minute care what she herself wore on every occasion, what the other -ladies wore, and what were the uniforms, military or civil, in which the -men were arrayed. Trivial, perhaps, yet of great value in picturing the -scenes! - -In her letters Sophy is also copious in depicting places, houses, and -landscapes--matters on which the diary is naturally not so full. So -that, in spite of their great faults, the letters form a valuable -supplement to the diary. Yet what faults--nay, what crimes! Sophy had -learned to talk French perfectly and to write it fairly well. She had -not learned to write English well or even decently; the letters are, in -fact, a charnel-house of murdered grammar and broken-backed sentences. -Still there emerge from it all a shrewdness and a rural vigor and -raciness which show that the child of the little Essex farm-house -survived in the writer. - -But for this Kravonian period--the great period--the diary is the thing. -Yet it is one of the most unconscientious diaries ever written. It is -full of gaps; it is often posted up very unpunctually; it is sometimes -exasperatingly obscure--there may be some intention in that; she could -not tell into what hands it might fall. But it covers most of the -ground; it begins almost with Sophy's arrival in Slavna, and the last -entry records her discovery of Lord Dunstanbury's presence in Kravonia. -It is written for the most part in French, and she wrote French, as has -been said, decently--nay, even forcibly, though not with elegance; yet -she frequently relapses into English--often of a very colloquial order: -this happens mostly under the influence of anger or some other strong -emotion. And she is dramatic--that must be allowed to her. She -concentrates her attention on what she conceives (nor is her instinct -far out) to be her great scenes; she gives (or purports to give) a -verbatim report of critical conversations, and it is only just to say -that she allows her interlocutors fair play. She has candor--and that, -working with the dramatic sense in her, forbids her to warp the scene. -In the earlier parts of the story she shows keen appreciation of its -lighter aspects; as times grow graver, her records, too, change in mood, -working up to the tense excitement, the keen struggle, the burning -emotions of her last days in Kravonia. Yet even then she always finds -time for a laugh and a touch of gayety. - -When Sophy herself ceases to be our guide, Lord Dunstanbury's notes -become the main authority. They are supplemented by the recollection of -Mr. Basil Williamson, now practising his profession of surgery in -Australia; and this narrative is also indebted to Colonel Markart, -sometime secretary to General Stenovics, for much important information -which, as emanating from the enemy's camp, was not accessible to Sophy -or her informants. The contributions of other actors in the drama, too -numerous to mention here, will be easily identified in their place in -the story. - -A word seems desirable on one other subject, and no mean one; for it is -certain that Sophy's physical gifts were a powerful ally to her -ambition, her strong will, and her courage; it is certain, too, that she -did not shrink from making the most of this reinforcement to her powers. -All the authorities named above--not excepting Sophy herself--have -plenty to say on the topic, and from their descriptions a portrait of -her may be attempted. Of actual pictures one only exists--in the -possession of the present Lord Dunstanbury, who succeeded his -father--Sophy's Earl--a few years ago. It is a pastel, drawn just before -she left Paris--and, to be frank, it is something of a disappointment; -the taste of the 'sixties is betrayed in a simper which sits on the lips -but is alien to the character of them. Still the outline and the color -are there. - -Her hair was very dark, long, and thick; her nose straight and fine, her -lips firm and a trifle full. Her complexion was ordinarily very pale, -and she did not flush save under considerable agitation of mind or -exertion of body. She was above the middle height, finely formed, and -slender. It was sometimes, indeed, objected that her shape was too -masculine--the shoulders a trifle too square and the hips too small for -a woman. These are, after all, matters of taste; she would not have been -thought amiss in ancient Athens. All witnesses agree in describing her -charm as lying largely in movement, in vivacity, in a sense of -suppressed force trying to break out, or (as Mr. Williamson puts it) of -"tremendous driving power." - -The personality seems to stand out fairly distinct from these -descriptions, and we need the less regret that a second picture, known -to have been painted soon after her arrival in Kravonia, has perished -either through carelessness or (more probably) by deliberate -destruction; there were many in Kravonia not too anxious that even a -counterfeit presentment of the famous "Red Star" and its wearer should -survive. It would carry its memories and its reproach. - -"The Red Star!" The name appears first in a letter of the Paris -period--one of the few which are in existence. Its invention is -attributed by Sophy to her friend the Marquis de Savres (of whom we -shall hear again). He himself used it often. But of the thing we hear -very early--and go on hearing from time to time. Sophy at first calls it -"my mark," but she speedily adopts Monsieur le Marquis's more poetical -term, and by that description it is known throughout her subsequent -career. The polite artist of the 'sixties shirked it altogether by -giving a half-profile view of his subject, thus not showing the left -cheek where the "star" was situated. - -It was, in fact, a small birth-mark, placed just below the cheek-bone, -almost round, yet with a slightly indented outline. No doubt a lover -(and M. de Savres was one) found warrant enough for his phrase. At -ordinary times it was a very pale red in color, but (unlike the rest of -her face) it was very rapidly sensitive to any change of mood or temper; -in moments of excitement the shade deepened greatly, and (as Colonel -Markart says in his hyperbolic strain) "it glowed like angry Venus." -Without going quite that length, we are bound to allow that it was, at -these moments, a conspicuous and striking mark, and such it clearly -appeared to the eyes of all who saw it. "La dame à l'étoile rouge," says -the Marquis. "The Red-starred Witch," said the less courteous and more -hostile citizens and soldiers of Kravonia. Sophy herself appears proud -of it, though she feigns to consider it a blemish. Very probably it was -one of those peculiarities which become so closely associated and -identified with the personality to which they belong as at once to -heighten the love of friends and to attract an increased dislike or -hatred from those already disposed or committed to enmity. At any rate, -for good or evil, it is as "Red Star" that the name of Sophy lives -to-day in the cities and mountains of Kravonia. - -So much in preface; now to the story. Little historical importance can -be claimed for it. But amateurs of the picturesque, if yet there be such -in this business-like world, may care to follow Sophy from Morpingham to -Paris, to share her flight from the doomed city, to be with her in the -Street of the Fountain, at venerable Praslok, on Volseni's crumbling -wall, by the banks of the swift-flowing Krath at dawn of day--to taste -something of the spirit that filled, to feel something of the love that -moved, the heart of Sophy Grouch of Morpingham, in the county of Essex. -Still, sometimes Romance beckons back her ancient votaries. - - - - -SOPHY OF KRAVONIA - - - - -PART I - -MORPINGHAM - - - - -I - -ENOCH GROUCH'S DAUGHTER - - -Grouch! That is the name--and in the interest of euphony it is -impossible not to regret the fact. Some say it should be spelled -"Groutch," which would not at all mend matters, though it makes the -pronunciation clear beyond doubt--the word must rhyme with "crouch" and -"couch." Well might Lady Meg Duddington swear it was the ugliest name -she had ever heard in her life! Sophy was not of a very different -opinion, as will be shown by-and-by. She was Grouch on both -sides--unmixed and unredeemed. For Enoch Grouch married his uncle's -daughter Sally, and begat, as his first child, Sophy. Two other children -were born to him, but they died in early infancy. Mrs. Grouch did not -long survive the death of her little ones; she was herself laid in -Morpingham church-yard when Sophy was no more than five years old. The -child was left to the sole care of her father, a man who had married -late for his class--indeed, late for any class--and was already well on -in middle age. He held a very small farm, lying about half a mile behind -the church. Probably he made a hard living of it, for the only servant -in his household was a slip of a girl of fifteen, who had, presumably, -both to cook and scrub for him and to look after the infant Sophy. -Nothing is remembered of him in Morpingham. Perhaps there was nothing to -remember--nothing that marked him off from thousands like him; perhaps -the story of his death, which lives in the village traditions, blotted -out the inconspicuous record of his laborious life. - -Morpingham lies within twenty-five miles of London, but for all that it -is a sequestered and primitive village. It contained, at this time at -least, but three houses with pretensions to gentility--the Hall, the -Rectory, and a smaller house across the village street, facing the -Rectory. At the end of the street stood the Hall in its grounds. This -was a handsome, red-brick house, set in a spacious garden. Along one -side of the garden there ran a deep ditch, and on the other side of the -ditch, between it and a large meadow, was a path which led to the -church. Thus the church stood behind the Hall grounds; and again, as has -been said, beyond the church was Enoch Grouch's modest farm, held of Mr. -Brownlow, the owner of the Hall. The church path was the favorite resort -of the villagers, and deservedly, for it was shaded and beautified by a -fine double row of old elms, forming a stately avenue to the humble -little house of worship. - -On an autumn evening in the year 1855 Enoch Grouch was returning from -the village, where he had been to buy tobacco. His little girl was with -him. It was wild weather. A gale had been blowing for full twenty-four -hours, and in the previous night a mighty bough had been snapped from -one of the great elms and had fallen with a crash. It lay now right -across the path. As they went to the village, her father had indulged -Sophy with a ride on the bough, and she begged a renewal of the treat on -their homeward journey. The farmer was a kind man--more kind than wise, -as it proved, on this occasion. He set the child astraddle on the thick -end of the bough, then went to the other end, which was much slenderer. -Probably his object was to try to shake the bough and please his small -tyrant with the imitation of a see-saw. The fallen bough suggested no -danger to his slow-moving mind. He leaned down towards the bough with -out-stretched hands--Sophy, no doubt, watching his doings with excited -interest--while the wind raged and revelled among the great branches -over their heads. Enoch tried to move the bough, but failed; in order to -make another effort, he fell on his knees and bent his back over it. - -At this moment there came a loud crash--heard in the Rectory grounds and -in the dining-room at Woodbine Cottage, the small house opposite. - -"There's another tree gone!" cried Basil Williamson, the Rector's second -son, who was giving his retriever an evening run. - -He raced through the Rectory gate, across the road, and into the avenue. - -A second later the garden gate of Woodbine Cottage opened, and Julia, -the ten-years-old daughter of a widow named Robins who lived there, came -out at full speed. Seeing Basil just ahead of her, she called out: "Did -you hear?" - -He knew her voice--they were playmates--and answered without looking -back: "Yes. Isn't it fun? Keep outside the trees--keep well in the -meadow!" - -"Stuff!" she shouted, laughing. "They don't fall every minute, silly!" - -Running as they exchanged these words, they soon came to where the -bough--or, rather, the two boughs--had fallen. A tragic sight met their -eyes. The second bough had caught the unlucky farmer just on the nape of -his neck, and had driven him down, face forward, onto the first. He lay -with his neck close pinned between the two, and his arms spread out over -the undermost. His face was bad to look at; he was quite dead, and -apparently death must have been instantaneous. Sobered and appalled, the -boy and girl stood looking from the terrible sight to each other's -faces. - -"Is he dead?" Julia whispered. - -"I expect so," the boy answered. Neither of them had seen death before. - -The next moment he raised his voice and shouted: "Help, help!" then laid -hold of the upper bough and strove with all his might to raise it. The -girl gave a shriller cry for assistance and then lent a hand to his -efforts. But between them they could not move the great log. - -Up to now neither of them had perceived Sophy. - -Next on the scene was Mr. Brownlow, the master of the Hall. He had been -in his greenhouse and heard the crash of the bough. Of that he took no -heed--nothing could be done save heave a sigh over the damage to his -cherished elms. But when the cries for help reached his ears, with -praiseworthy promptitude he rushed out straight across his lawn, and -(though he was elderly and stout) dropped into the ditch, clambered out -of it, and came where the dead man and the children were. As he passed -the drawing-room windows, he called out to his wife: "Somebody's hurt, -I'm afraid"; and she, after a moment's conference with the butler, -followed her husband, but, not being able to manage the ditch, went -round by the road and up the avenue, the servant coming with her. When -these two arrived, the Squire's help had availed to release the farmer -from the deadly grip of the two boughs, and he lay now on his back on -the path. - -"He's dead, poor fellow," said Mr. Brownlow. - -"It's Enoch Grouch!" said the butler, giving a shudder as he looked at -the farmer's face. Julia Robins sobbed, and the boy Basil looked up at -the Squire's face with grave eyes. - -"I'll get a hurdle, sir," said the butler. His master nodded, and he ran -off. - -Something moved on the path--about a yard from the thick end of the -lower bough. - -"Look there!" cried Julia Robins. A little wail followed. With an -exclamation, Mrs. Brownlow darted to the spot. The child lay there with -a cut on her forehead. Apparently the impact of the second bough had -caused the end of the first to fly upward; Sophy had been jerked from -her seat into the air, and had fallen back on the path, striking her -head on a stone. Mrs. Brownlow picked her up, wiped the blood from her -brow, and saw that the injury was slight. Sophy began to cry softly, and -Mrs. Brownlow soothed her. - -"It's his little girl," said Julia Robins. "The little girl with the -mark on her cheek, please, Mrs. Brownlow." - -"Poor little thing! Poor little thing!" Mrs. Brownlow murmured; she knew -that death had robbed the child of her only relative and protector. - -The butler now came back with a hurdle and two men, and Enoch Grouch's -body was taken into the saddle-room at the Hall. Mrs. Brownlow followed -the procession, Sophy still in her arms. At the end of the avenue she -spoke to the boy and girl: - -"Go home, Basil; tell your father, and ask him to come to the Hall. -Good-night, Julia. Tell your mother--and don't cry any more. The poor -man is with God, and I sha'n't let this mite come to harm." She was a -childless woman, with a motherly heart, and as she spoke she kissed -Sophy's wounded forehead. Then she went into the Hall grounds, and the -boy and girl were left together in the road. Basil shook his fist at the -avenue of elms--his favorite playground. - -"Hang those beastly trees!" he cried. "I'd cut them all down if I was -Mr. Brownlow." - -"I must go and tell mother," said Julia. "And you'd better go, too." - -"Yes," he assented, but lingered for a moment, still looking at the -trees as though reluctantly fascinated by them. - -"Mother always said something would happen to that little girl," said -Julia, with a grave and important look in her eyes. - -"Why?" the boy asked, brusquely. - -"Because of that mark--that mark she's got on her cheek." - -"What rot!" he said, but he looked at his companion uneasily. The event -of the evening had stirred the superstitious fears seldom hard to stir -in children. - -"People don't have those marks for nothing--so mother says." Other -people, no wiser, said the same thing later. - -"Rot!" Basil muttered again. "Oh, well, I must go." - -She glanced at him timidly. "Just come as far as our door with me. I'm -afraid." - -"Afraid!" He smiled scornfully. "All right!" - -He walked with her to the door of Woodbine Cottage, and waited till it -closed behind her, performing the escort with a bold and lordly air. -Left alone in the fast-darkening night, with nobody in sight, with no -sound save the ceaseless voice of the angry wind essaying new mischief -in the tops of the elm-trees, he stood for a moment listening fearfully. -Then he laid his sturdy legs to the ground and fled for home, looking -neither to right nor left till he reached the hospitable light of his -father's study. The lad had been brave in face of the visible horror; -fear struck him in the moment of Julia's talk about the mark on the -child's cheek. Scornful and furious at himself, yet he was mysteriously -afraid. - - - - -II - -THE COOK AND THE CATECHISM - - -Sophy Grouch had gone to lay a bunch of flowers on her father's grave. -From the first Mrs. Brownlow had taught her this pious rite, and Mrs. -Brownlow's deputy, the gardener's wife (in whose cottage Sophy lived), -had seen to its punctual performance every week. Things went by law and -rule at the Hall, for the Squire was a man of active mind and ample -leisure. His household code was a marvel of intricacy and minuteness. -Sophy's coming and staying had developed a multitude of new clauses, -under whose benevolent yet strict operation her youthful mind had been -trained in the way in which Mr. Brownlow was of opinion that it should -go. - -Sophy's face, then, wore a grave and responsible air as she returned -with steps of decorous slowness from the sacred precincts. Yet the outer -manner was automatic--the result of seven years' practice. Within, her -mind was busy: the day was one of mark in her life; she had been told -her destined future, and was wondering how she would like it. - -Her approach was perceived by a tall and pretty girl who lay in the -meadow-grass (and munched a blade of it) which bordered the path under -the elm-trees. - -"What a demure little witch she looks!" laughed Julia Robins, who was -much in the mood for laughter that day, greeting with responsive gleam -of the eyes the sunlight which fell in speckles of radiance through the -leaves above. It was a summer day, and summer was in her heart, too; yet -not for the common cause with young maidens; it was no nonsense about -love-making--lofty ambition was in the case to-day. - -"Sophy Grouch! Sophy Grouch!" she cried, in a high, merry voice. - -Sophy raised her eyes, but her steps did not quicken. With the same -measured paces of her lanky, lean, little legs, she came up to where -Julia lay. - -"Why don't you say just 'Sophy'?" she asked. "I'm the only Sophy in the -village." - -"Sophy Grouch! Sophy Grouch!" Julia repeated, teasingly. - -The mark on Sophy's left cheek grew redder. Julia laughed mockingly. -Sophy looked down on her, still very grave. - -"You do look pretty to-day," she observed--"and happy." - -"Yes, yes! So I tease you, don't I? But I like to see you hang out your -danger-signal." - -She held out her arms to the little girl. Sophy came and kissed her, -then sat down beside her. - -"Forgive?" - -"Yes," said Sophy. "Do you think it's a very awful name?" - -"Oh, you'll change it some day," smiled Julia, speaking more truth than -she knew. "Listen! Mother's consented, consented, consented! I'm to go -and live with Uncle Edward in London--London, Sophy!--and learn -elocution--" - -"Learn what?" - -"E-lo-cu-tion--which means how to talk so that people can hear you ever -so far off--" - -"To shout?" - -"No. Don't be stupid. To--to be heard plainly without shouting. To be -heard in a theatre! Did you ever see a theatre?" - -"No. Only a circus. I haven't seen much." - -"And then--the stage! I'm to be an actress! Fancy mother consenting at -last! An actress instead of a governess! Isn't it glorious?" She paused -a moment, then added, with a self-conscious laugh: "Basil's awfully -angry, though." - -"Why should he be angry?" asked Sophy. Her own anger was gone; she was -plucking daisies and sticking them here and there in her friend's golden -hair. They were great friends, this pair, and Sophy was very proud of -the friendship. Julia was grown up, the beauty of the village, and--a -lady! Now Sophy was by no means any one of these things. - -"Oh, you wouldn't understand," laughed Julia, with a blush. - -"Does he want to keep company with you--and won't you do it?" - -"Only servants keep company, Sophy." - -"Oh!" said Sophy, obviously making a mental note of the information. - -"But he's very silly about it. I've just said 'Good-bye,' to him--you -know he goes up to Cambridge to-morrow?--and he did say a lot of silly -things." She suddenly caught hold of Sophy and kissed her half a dozen -times. "It's a wonderful thing that's happened. I'm so tremendously -happy!" She set her little friend free with a last kiss and a playful -pinch. - -Neither caress nor pinch disturbed Sophy's composure. She sat down on -the grass. - -"Something's happened to me, too, to-day," she announced. - -"Has it, Tots? What is it?" asked Julia, smiling indulgently; the great -events in other lives are thus sufficiently acknowledged. - -"I've left school, and I'm going to leave Mrs. James's and go and live -at the Hall, and be taught to help cook; and when I'm grown up I'm going -to be cook." She spoke slowly and weightily, her eyes fixed on Julia's -face. - -"Well, I call it a shame!" cried Julia, in generous indignation. "Oh, of -course it would be all right if they'd treated you properly--I mean, as -if they'd meant that from the beginning. But they haven't. You've lived -with Mrs. James, I know; but you've been in and out of the Hall all the -time, having tea in the drawing-room, and fruit at dessert, and--and so -on. And you look like a little lady, and talk like one--almost. I think -it's a shame not to give you a better chance. Cook!" - -"Don't you think it might be rather nice to be a cook--a good cook?" - -"No, I don't," answered the budding Mrs. Siddons, decisively. - -"People always talk a great deal about the cook," pleaded Sophy. "Mr. -and Mrs. Brownlow are always talking about the cook--and the Rector -talks about his cook, too--not always very kindly, though." - -"No, it's a shame--and I don't believe it'll happen." - -"Yes, it will. Mrs. Brownlow settled it to-day." - -"There are other people in the world besides Mrs. Brownlow." - -Sophy was not exactly surprised at this dictum, but evidently it gave -her thought. Her long-delayed "Yes" showed that as plainly as her "Oh" -had, a little while before, marked her appreciation of the social -limits of "keeping company." "But she can settle it all the same," she -persisted. - -"For the time she can," Julia admitted. "Oh, I wonder what'll be my -first part, Tots!" She threw her pretty head back on the grass, closing -her eyes; a smile of radiant anticipation hovered about her lips. The -little girl rose and stood looking at her friend--the friend of whom she -was so proud. - -"You'll look very, very pretty," she said, with sober gravity. - -Julia's smile broadened, but her lips remained shut. Sophy looked at her -for a moment longer, and, without formal farewell, resumed her progress -down the avenue. It was hard on tea-time, and Mrs. James was a stickler -for punctuality. - -Yet Sophy's march was interrupted once more. A tall young man sat -swinging his legs on the gate that led from the avenue into the road. -The sturdy boy who had run home in terror on the night Enoch Grouch died -had grown into a tall, good-looking young fellow; he was clad in what is -nowadays called a "blazer" and check-trousers, and smoked a large -meerschaum pipe. His expression was gloomy; the gate was shut--and he -was on the top of it. Sophy approached him with some signs of -nervousness. When he saw her, he glared at her moodily. - -"You can't come through," he said, firmly. - -"Please, Mr. Basil, I must, I shall be late for tea." - -"I won't let you through. There!" - -Sophy looked despairful. "May I climb over?" - -"No," said Basil, firmly; but a smile began to twitch about his lips. - -Quick now, as ever, to see the joint in a man's armor, Sophy smiled too. - -"If you'd let me through, I'd give you a kiss," she said, offering the -only thing she had to give in all the world. - -"You would, would you? But I hate kisses. In fact, I hate girls all -round--big and little." - -"You don't hate Julia, do you?" - -"Yes, worst of all." - -"Oh!" said Sophy--once more the recording, registering "Oh!"--because -Julia had given quite another impression, and Sophy sought to reconcile -these opposites. - -The young man jumped down from the gate, with a healthy laugh at himself -and at her, caught her up in his arms, and gave her a smacking kiss. - -"That's toll," he said. "Now you can go through, missy." - -"Thank you, Mr. Basil. It's not very hard to get through, is it?" - -He set her down with a laugh, a laugh with a note of surprise in it; her -last words had sounded odd from a child. But Sophy's eyes were quite -grave; she was probably recording the practical value of a kiss. - -"You shall tell me whether you think the same about that in a few years' -time," he said, laughing again. - -"When I'm grown up?" she asked, with a slow, puzzled smile. - -"Perhaps," said he, assuming gravity anew. - -"And cook?" she asked, with a curiously interrogative air--anxious -apparently to see what he, in his turn, would think of her destiny. - -"Cook? You're going to be a cook?" - -"The cook," she amended. "The cook at the Hall." - -"I'll come and eat your dinners." He laughed, yet looked a trifle -compassionate. Sophy's quick eyes tracked his feelings. - -"You don't think it's nice to be a cook, either?" she asked. - -"Oh yes, splendid! The cook's a sort of queen," said he. - -"The cook a sort of queen? Is she?" Sophy's eyes were profoundly -thoughtful. - -"And I should be very proud to kiss a queen--a sort of queen. Because I -shall be only a poor sawbones." - -"Sawbones?" - -"A surgeon--a doctor, you know--with a red lamp, like Dr. Seaton at -Brentwood." - -She looked at him for a moment. "Are you really going away?" she asked, -abruptly. - -"Yes, for a bit--to-morrow." - -Sophy's manner expanded into a calm graciousness. "I'm very sorry," she -said. - -"Thank you." - -"You amuse me." - -"The deuce I do!" laughed Basil Williamson. - -She raised her eyes slowly to his. "You'll be friends, anyhow, won't -you?" - -"To cook or queen," he said--and heartiness shone through his raillery. - -Sophy nodded her head gravely, sealing the bargain. A bargain it was. - -"Now I must go and have tea, and then say my catechism," said she. - -The young fellow--his thoughts were sad--wanted the child to linger. - -"Learning your catechism? Where have you got to?" - -"I've got to say my 'Duty towards my Neighbor' to Mrs. James after tea." - -"Your 'Duty towards your Neighbor'--that's rather difficult, isn't it?" - -"It's very long," said Sophy, resignedly. - -"Do you know it?" - -"I think so. Oh, Mr. Basil, would you mind hearing me? Because if I can -say it to you, I can say it to her, you know." - -"All right, fire away." - -A sudden doubt smote Sophy. "But do you know it yourself?" she asked. - -"Yes, rather, I know it." - -She would not take his word. "Then you say the first half, and I'll say -the second." - -He humored her--it was hard not to--she looked so small and seemed so -capable. He began--and tripped for a moment over "'To love, honor, and -succor my father and mother.'" The child had no chance there. But -Sophy's eyes were calm. He ended, "'teachers, spiritual pastors, and -masters.' Now go on," he said. - -"'To order myself lowly and reverently to all my betters; to hurt nobody -by word nor deed; to be true and just in all my dealing; to bear no -malice nor hatred in my heart; to keep my hands from picking and -stealing, and my tongue from evil-speaking, lying, and slandering; to -keep my body in temperance, soberness, and chastity [the young man -smiled for an instant--that sounded pathetic]; not to covet nor desire -other men's goods, but to learn and labor truly to get mine own living -and to do my duty in that state of life unto which it has pleased God to -call me.'" - -"Wrong!" said Basil. "Go down two!" - -"Wrong?" she cried, indignantly disbelieving. - -"Wrong!" - -"It's not! That's what Mrs. James taught me." - -"Perhaps--it's not in the prayer-book. Go and look." - -"You tell me first!" - -"'And to do my duty in that state of life unto which it shall please God -to call me.'" His eyes were set on her with an amused interest. - -She stood silent for a moment. "Sure?" she asked then. - -"Positive," said he. - -"Oh!" said Sophy, for the third time. She stood there a moment longer. -Then she smiled at him. "I shall go and look. Good-bye." - -Basil broke into a laugh. "Good-bye, missy," he said. "You'll find I'm -right." - -"If I do, I'll tell you," she answered him, generously, as she turned -away. - -His smile lasted while he watched her. When she was gone his grievance -revived, his gloom returned. He trudged home with never a glance back at -the avenue where Julia was. Yet even now the thought of the child -crossed his mind; that funny mark of hers had turned redder when he -corrected her rendering of the catechism. - -Sophy walked into Mrs. James's kitchen. "Please may I read through my -'Duty' before I say it?" she asked. - -Permission accorded with some surprise--for hitherto the teaching had -been by word of mouth--she got the prayer-book down from its shelf and -conned her lesson. After tea she repeated it correctly. Mrs. James -noticed no difference. - - - - -III - -BEAUTIFUL JULIA--AND MY LORD - - -"It seemed somehow impossible, me going to be cook there all my days." -So writes Sophy at a later date in regard to her life at Morpingham -Hall. To many of us in our youth it has seemed impossible that we should -pass all our days in the humdrum occupations and the mediocre positions -in which we have in fact spent them. Young ambitions are chronicled only -when they have been fulfilled--unless where a born autobiographer makes -fame out of his failures. But Sophy had a double portion of original -restlessness--this much the records of Morpingham years, scanty as they -are, render plain. Circumstances made much play with her, but she was -never merely the sport of chance or of circumstances. She was always -waiting, even always expecting, ready to take her chance, with arm -out-stretched to seize Occasion by the forelock. She co-operated eagerly -with Fate and made herself a partner with Opportunity, and she was quick -to blame the other members of the firm for any lack of activity or -forwardness. "You can't catch the train unless you're at the -station--and take care your watch isn't slow," she writes somewhere in -the diary. The moral of the reflection is as obvious as its form; it is -obvious, too, that a traveller so scrupulous to be in time would suffer -proportionate annoyance if the train were late. - -The immediate result of this disposition of hers was unhappy, and it is -not hard to sympathize with the feelings of the Brownlows. Their -benevolence was ample, but it was not unconscious; their benefits, which -were very great, appeared to them exhaustive, not only above what Sophy -might expect, but also beyond what she could imagine. They had picked -her up from the road-side and set her on the way to that sort of kingdom -with the prospect of which Basil Williamson had tried to console her. -The Squire was an estimable man, but one of small mind; he moved among -the little--the contented lord of a pin-point of the earth. Mrs. -Brownlow was a profoundly pious woman, to whom content was a high duty, -to be won by the performance of other duties. If the Squire detected in -the girl signs of ingratitude to himself, his wife laid equal blame on a -rebellion against Heaven. Sophy knew--if not then, yet on looking -back--what they felt; her references to them are charged with a remorse -whose playful expression (obstinately touched with scorn as it is) does -not hide its sincerity. She soon perceived, anyhow, that she was getting -a bad character; she, the cook _in posse_, was at open war with Mrs. -Smilker, the cook _in esse_; though, to be sure, "Smilker" might have -done something to reconcile her to "Grouch!" - -Mrs. Brownlow naturally ranged herself on the side of constituted -authority, of the superior rank in the domestic hierarchy. Moreover, it -is likely that Mrs. Smilker was right in nine cases out of ten, at all -events; Sophy recognized that probability in after-life; none the less, -she allows herself more than once to speak of "that beast of a Smilker." -Mere rectitude as such never appealed to her; that comes out in another -rather instructive comment, which she makes on Mrs. Brownlow herself, -"Me being what I was, and she what she was, though I was grateful to -her, and always shall be, I couldn't love her; and what hit me hardest -was that she didn't wonder at it, and, in my opinion, wasn't very sorry -either--not in her heart, you know. Me not loving her made what she was -doing for me all the finer, you see." - -Perhaps these flashes of insight should not be turned on our -benefactors, but the extract serves to show another side of Sophy--one -which in fairness to her must not be ignored. Not only was restlessness -unsatisfied, and young ambitions starved; the emotions were not fed -either, or at least were presented with a diet too homely for Sophy's -taste. For the greater part of this time she had no friends outside the -Hall to turn to. Julia Robins was pursuing her training in London, and, -later, her profession in the country. Basil Williamson, who "amused" -her, was at Cambridge, and afterwards at his hospital; a glimpse of him -she may have caught now and then, but they had no further talk. Very -probably he sought no opportunity; Sophy had passed from the infants' -school to the scullery; she had grown from a child into a big girl. If -prudent Basil kept these transformations in view, none can blame him--he -was the son of the Rector of the parish. So, when bidden to the Hall, he -ate the potatoes Sophy had peeled, but recked no more of the hand that -peeled them. In the main the child was, no doubt, a solitary creature. - -So much is what scientific men and historians call "reconstruction"--a -hazardous process--at least when you are dealing with human beings. It -has been kept within the strict limits of legitimate inference, and -accordingly yields meagre results. The return of Julia Robins enables us -to put many more of the stones--or bones, or whatever they may be -called--in their appropriate places. - -It is the summer of 1865--and Julia is very gorgeous. Three years had -passed over her head; her training had been completed a twelvemonth -before, and she had been on her first tour. She had come home "to -rest"--and to look out for a new engagement. She wore a blue hat with a -white feather, a blue skirt, and a red "Garibaldi" shirt; her fair hair -was dressed in the latest fashion. The sensation she made in Morpingham -needs no record. But her head was not turned; nobody was ever less of a -snob than Julia Robins, no friendship ever more independent of the ups -and downs of life, on one side or the other, than that which united her -and Sophy Grouch. She opened communications with the Hall scullery -immediately. And--"Sophy was as much of a darling as ever"--is her -warm-hearted verdict. - -The Hall was not accessible to Julia, nor Woodbine Lodge to Mrs. -Brownlow's little cook-girl. But the Squire's coachman had been at the -station when Julia's train came in: her arrival would be known in the -Hall kitchen, if not up-stairs. On the morrow she went into the avenue -of old elms about twelve o'clock, conjecturing that her friend might -have a few free moments about that hour--an oasis between the labors of -the morning and the claims of luncheon. Standing there under the trees -in all her finery--not very expensive finery, no doubt, yet fresh and -indisputably gay--she called her old mocking challenge--"Sophy Grouch! -Sophy Grouch!" - -Sophy was watching. Her head rose from the other side of the ditch. She -was down in a moment, up again, and in her friend's arms. "It's like a -puff of fresh air," she whispered, as she kissed her, and then, drawing -away, looked her over. Sophy was tall beyond her years, and her head was -nearly on a level with Julia's. She was in her short print gown, with -her kitchen apron on; her sleeves rolled up, her face red from the fire, -her hands too, no doubt, red from washing vegetables and dishes. "She -looked like Cinderella in the first act of a pantomime," is Miss -Robins's professional comment--colored, perhaps, also by subsequent -events. - -"You're beautiful!" cried Sophy. "Oh, that shirt--I love red!" And so on -for some time, no doubt. "Tell me about it; tell me everything about -it," she urged. "It's the next best thing, you know." - -Miss Robins recounted her adventures: they would not seem very dazzling -at this distance. Sophy heard them with ardent eyes; they availed to -color the mark on her cheek to a rosy tint. "That's being alive," she -said, with a deep-drawn sigh. - -Julia patted her hand consolingly. "But I'm twenty!" she reminded her -friend. "Think how young you are!" - -"Young or old's much the same in the kitchen," Sophy grumbled. - -Linking arms, they walked up the avenue. The Rector was approaching from -the church. Sophy tried to draw her arm away. Julia held it tight. The -Rector came up, lifted his hat--and, maybe, his brows. But he stopped -and said a few pleasant words to Julia. He had never pretended to -approve of this stage career, but Julia had now passed beyond his -jurisdiction. He was courteous to her as to any lady. Official position -betrayed itself only as he was taking leave--and only in regard to Sophy -Grouch. - -"Ah, you keep up old friendships," he said--with a rather forced -approval. "Please don't unsettle the little one's mind, though. She has -to work--haven't you, Sophy? Good-bye, Miss Robins." - -Sophy's mark was ruddy indeed as the Rector went on his blameless way, -and Julia was squeezing her friend's arm very hard. But Sophy said -nothing, except to murmur--just once--"The little one!" Julia smiled at -the tone. - -They turned and walked back towards the road. Now silence reigned; Julia -was understanding, pitying, wondering whether a little reasonable -remonstrance would be accepted by her fiery and very unreasonable little -friend; scullery-maids must not arraign social institutions nor quarrel -with the way of the world. But she decided to say nothing--the mark -still glowed. It was to glow more before that day was out. - -They came near to the gates. Julia felt a sudden pressure on her arm. - -"Look!" whispered Sophy, her eyes lighting up again in interest. - -A young man rode up the approach to the Hall lodge. His mare was a -beauty; he sat her well. He was perfectly dressed for the exercise. His -features were clear-cut and handsome. There was as fine an air of -breeding about him as about the splendid Newfoundland dog which ran -behind him. - -Julia looked as she was bidden. "He's handsome," she said. "Why--" she -laughed low--"I believe I know who it is--I think I've seen him -somewhere." - -"Have you?" Sophy's question was breathless. - -"Yes, I know! When we were at York! He was one of the officers there; he -was in a box. Sophy, it's the Earl of Dunstanbury!" - -Sophy did not speak. She looked. The young man--he could be hardly more -than twenty--came on. Sophy suddenly hid behind her friend ("To save my -pride, not her own," generous Julia explains--Sophy herself advances no -such excuse), but she could see. She saw the rider's eye rest on Julia; -did it rest in recognition? It almost seemed so; yet there was doubt. -Julia blushed, but she forbore from smiling or from seeking to rouse his -memory. Yet she was proud if he remembered her face from across the -footlights. The young man, too--being but a young man--blushed a little -as he gave the pretty girl by the gate such a glance as discreetly told -her that he was of the same mind as herself about her looks. These -silent interchanges of opinion on such matters are pleasant diversions -as one plods the highway. - -He was gone. Julia sighed in satisfied vanity. Sophy awoke to stern -realities. - -"Gracious!" she cried. "He must have come to lunch! They'll want a -salad! You'll be here to-morrow--do!" And she was off, up the drive, and -round to her own regions at the back of the house. - -"I believe his Lordship did remember my face," thought Julia as she -wandered back to Woodbine Cottage. - -But Sophy washed lettuces in her scullery--which, save for its base -purposes, was a pleasant, airy apartment, looking out on a path that ran -between yew hedges and led round from the lawn to the offices of the -house. Diligently she washed, as Mrs. Smilker had taught her (whether -rightly or not is nothing to the purpose here), but how many miles away -was her mind? So far away from lettuces that it seemed in no way strange -to look up and see Lord Dunstanbury and his dog on the path outside the -window at which she had been performing her task. He began hastily: - -"Oh, I say, I've been seeing my mare get her feed, and--er--do you think -you could be so good as to find a bone and some water for Lorenzo?" - -"Lorenzo?" she said. - -"My dog, you know." He pointed to the handsome beast, which wagged an -expectant tail. - -"Why do you call him that?" - -Dunstanbury smiled. "Because he's magnificent. I dare say you never -heard of Lorenzo the Magnificent?" - -"No. Who was he?" - -"A Duke--Duke of Florence--in Italy." He had begun to watch her face, -and seemed not impatient for the bone. - -"Florence? Italy?" The lettuce dropped from her hands; she wiped her -hands slowly on her apron. - -"Do you think you could get me one?" - -"Yes, I'll get it." - -She went to the back of the room and chose a bone. - -"Will this do?" she asked, holding it out through the window. - -"Too much meat." - -"Oh!" She went and got another. "This one all right?" - -"Capital! Do you mind if I stay and see him eat it?" - -"No." - -"Here, Lorenzo! And thank the lady!" - -Lorenzo directed three sharp barks at Sophy and fell to. Sophy filled -and brought out a bowl of water. Lord Dunstanbury had lighted a cigar. -But he was watching Sophy. A new light broke on him suddenly. - -"I say, were you the other girl behind the gate?" - -"I didn't mean you to see me." - -"I only caught a glimpse of you. I remember your friend, though." - -"She remembered you, too." - -"I don't know her name, though." - -"Julia Robins." - -"Ah, yes--is it? He's about polished off that bone, hasn't he? Is -she--er--a great friend of yours?" - -His manner was perhaps a little at fault; the slightest note of chaff -had crept into it; and the slightest was enough to put Sophy's quills -up. - -"Why not?" she asked. - -"Why not? Every reason why she should be," he answered with his lips. -His eyes answered more, but he refrained his tongue. He was scrupulously -a gentleman--more so perhaps than, had sexes and places been reversed, -Sophy herself would have been. But his eyes told her. "Only," he went -on, "if so, why did you hide?" - -That bit of chaff did not anger Sophy. But it went home to a different -purpose--far deeper, far truer home than the young man had meant. Not -the mark only reddened--even the cheeks flushed. She said no word. With -a fling-out of her arms--a gesture strangely, prophetically foreign as -it seemed to him in after-days--she exhibited herself--the print frock, -the soiled apron, the bare arms, red hands, the ugly knot of her hair, -the scrap of cap she wore. For a moment her lips quivered, while the -mark--the Red Star of future days and future fame--grew redder still. - -The only sound was of Lorenzo's worrying the last tough scrap of bone. -The lad, gentleman as he was, was good flesh and blood, too--and the -blood was moving. He felt a little tightness in his throat; he was new -to it. New, too, was Sophy Grouch to what his eyes said to her, but she -took it with head erect and a glance steadily levelled at his. - -"Yes," he said. "But I shouldn't have looked at any of that--and I -shouldn't have looked at her either." - -Brightly the mark glowed; subtly the eyes glowed. There was silence -again. - -Almost a start marked Dunstanbury's awakening. "Come, Lorenzo!" he -cried; he raised his hat and turned away, followed by his dog, Lorenzo -the Magnificent. - -Sophy took up her lettuces and carried them into the kitchen. - -"There you are, at last! And what's put you in a temper now?" asked Mrs. -Smilker. She had learned the signs of the mark. - -Sophy smiled. "It's not temper this time, Mrs. Smilker. I--I'm very -happy to-day," she said. "Oh, I do hope the salad will be good!" - -For he who was to eat of the salad--had he not forgotten print frock and -soiled apron, bare arms, red hands, ugly knot, and execrable cap? He -would not have looked at them--no, nor at beautiful many-tinted Julia -Robins in her pride! He had forgotten all these to look at the stained -cheek and the eyes of subtle glow. She had glanced in the mirror of love -and sipped from the cup of power. - -Such was her first meeting with Lord Dunstanbury. If it were ever -forgotten, it was not Dunstanbury who forgot. - -The day had wrought much in her eyes; it had wrought more than she -dreamed of. Her foot was near the ladder now, though she could not yet -see the lowest rung. - - - - -IV - -FATE'S WAY--OR LADY MEG'S - - -The scene is at Hazleby, Lord Dunstanbury's Essex seat. His lordship is -striking the top off his breakfast egg. - -"I say, Cousin Meg, old Brownlow's got a deuced pretty kitchen-maid." - -"There you go! There you go! Just like your father, and your -grandfather, and all of them! If the English people had any spirit, -they'd have swept the Dunstanburys and all the wicked Whig gang into the -sea long ago." - -"Before you could turn round they'd have bought it up, enclosed it, and -won an election by opening it to ships at a small fee on Sundays," said -Mr. Pindar. - -"Why are Whigs worse than Tories?" inquired Mr. Pikes, with an air of -patient inquiry. - -"The will of Heaven, I suppose," sniffed Lady Margaret Duddington. - -"To display Divine Omnipotence in that line," suggested Mr. Pindar. - -"A deuced pretty girl!" said Dunstanbury, in reflective tones. He was -doing his best to reproduce the impression he had received at Morpingham -Hall, but obviously with no great success. - -"On some pretext, frivolous though it be, let us drive over and see this -miracle," Pindar suggested. - -"How could we better employ this last day of our visit? You'll drive us -over, Percival?" - -"No, thank you, Mr. Pindar," said the young man, resolute in wisdom. -"I'll send you over, if you like." - -"I'll come with you," said Pikes. "But how account for ourselves? Old -Brownlow is unknown to us." - -"If Percival had been going, I'd have had nothing to do with it, but I -don't mind taking you two old sillies," said Lady Margaret. "I wanted to -pay a call on Elizabeth Brownlow anyhow. We were at school together -once. But I won't guarantee you a sight of the kitchen-maid." - -"It's a pretty drive--for this part of the country," observed -Dunstanbury. - -"It may well become your favorite road," smiled Mr. Pindar, -benevolently. - -"And since Lady Meg goes with us, it's already ours," added Mr. Pikes, -gallantly. - -So they used to go on--for hours at a time, as Dunstanbury has -declared--both at Hazleby when they were there, and at Lady Meg's house -in Berkeley Square, where they almost always were. They were pleased to -consider themselves politicians--Pikes a Whig, twenty years behind date, -Pindar a Tory, two hundred. It was all an affectation--assumed for the -purpose, but with the very doubtful result of amusing Lady Meg. To -Dunstanbury the two old waifs--for waifs of the sea of society they -were, for all that each had a sufficient income to his name and a -reputable life behind him--were sheerly tiresome--and there seems little -ground to differ from his opinion. But they were old family friends, and -he endured with his usual graciousness. - -Their patroness--they would hardly have gibed at the word--was a more -notable person. Lady Meg--the world generally, and Sophy always, spoke -of her by that style, and we may take the same liberty--was only child -of the great Earl of Dunstanbury. The title and estates passed to his -grandnephew, but half a million or so of money came to her. She took the -money, but vowed, with an outspoken thankfulness, that from the -Dunstanbury family she had taken nothing else. If the boast were true, -there must have been a powerful strain of eccentricity and perversity -derived from elsewhere. All the Dunstanbury blood was Whig; Lady Meg -counted the country ruined in 1688. Even Dunstanbury had been a man of -sensibility; Lady Meg declared war on emotion--especially on the -greatest of all emotions. The Dunstanbury attitude in thought had always -been free, even tending to the materialistic; Lady Meg would believe in -anything--so long as she couldn't see it. A queer woman, choosing to go -to war with the world and infinitely enjoying the gratuitous conflict -which she had herself provoked! With half a million pounds and the -Duddington blood one can afford these recondite luxuries--and to have a -Pindar and a Pikes before whom to exhibit their rare flavor. She was -aggressive, capricious, hard to live with. Fancies instead of purposes, -whims instead of interests, and not, as it seems, much affection for -anybody--she makes rather a melancholy picture; but in her time she made -a bit of a figure, too. - -The air of the household was stormy that day at Morpingham--an incentive -to the expedition, not a deterrent, for Lady Meg, had she known it. -Sophy was in sore disgrace--accused, tried, and convicted of -insubordination and unseemly demeanor towards Mrs. Smilker. The truth -seems to be that this good woman (Rest her soul! She has a neat -tombstone in Morpingham church-yard) loved--like many another good -creature--good ale sometimes a trifle too well; and the orders she gave -when ale had been plentiful did not always consort with her less-mellow -injunctions. In no vulgar directness, but with a sarcasm which Mrs. -Smilker felt without understanding, Sophy would point out these -inconsistencies. Angered and humiliated, fearful too, perhaps, that her -subordinate would let the secret out, Mrs. Smilker made haste to have -the first word with the powers; and against the word of the cook the -word of the cook-maid weighed as naught. After smaller troubles of this -origin there had come a sort of crisis to-day. The longest of long -lectures had been read to Sophy by mistress and repeated (slightly -condensed) by master; then she was sent away to think it over; an abject -apology to outraged Mrs. Smilker must be forthcoming, or banishment was -the decree. Informed of this ultimatum, Sophy went out and hung about -the avenue, hoping for Julia to appear. Soon Julia came and heard the -story. She had indignation in readiness, and--what was more to the -purpose--a plan. Soon Sophy's eyes grew bright. - -Into this storm-tossed house came Lady Meg and her spaniels. This unkind -name, derived at first from the size and shape of Mr. Pindar's ears -(they were large, and hung over at the top), had been stretched to -include Mr. Pikes also, with small loss of propriety. Both gentlemen -were low of stature, plump of figure, hairy on the face; both followed -obediently at the heels of commanding Lady Meg. The amenities of the -luncheon-table opened hearts. Very soon the tale of Sophy's iniquities -was revealed; incidentally, and unavoidably if Sophy's heinous fault -were to appear in its true measure, the tally of the Brownlows' -benevolence was reckoned. But Mrs. Brownlow won small comfort from Lady -Meg: she got a stiff touch of the truth. - -"Ran in and out of the drawing-room!" she said. "Did she? The truth is, -Lizzie, you've spoiled her, and now you're angry with her for being -spoiled." - -"What is she now, Mrs. Brownlow?" asked Pindar, with a sly intention. -Was this Percival's deuced pretty girl? - -"She works in the kitchen, Mr. Pindar." - -"The girl!" his eyes signalled to Mr. Pikes. "Let Lady Meg see her," he -urged, insinuatingly. "She has a wonderful way with girls." - -"I don't want to see her; and I know your game, Pindar," said Lady Meg. - -"I'm afraid she must go," sighed Mrs. Brownlow. Her husband said, more -robustly, that such an event would be a good riddance--a saying -repeated, with the rest of the conversation, by the butler (one William -Byles, still living) to the gratified ears of Mrs. Smilker in the -kitchen. - -"But I'm not easy about her future. She's an odd child, and looks it." - -"Pretty?" This from Mr. Pindar. - -"Well, I don't know. Striking-looking, you'd rather say, perhaps, Mr. -Pindar." - -"Let her go her own way. We've talked quite enough about her." Lady Meg -sounded decisive--and not a little bored. - -"And then"--Mrs. Brownlow made bold to go on for a moment--"such a funny -mark! Many people wouldn't like it, I'm sure." - -Lady Meg turned sharply on her. "Mark? What do you mean? What mark?" - -"A mark on her face, you know. A round, red mark--" - -"Big as a threepenny bit, pretty nearly," said the Squire. - -"Where?" - -"On her cheek." - -"Where is the girl?" asked Lady Meg. Her whole demeanor had changed, her -bored air had vanished. "She seemed fair excited," Mr. Byles reports. -Then she turned to the said Byles: "Find out where that girl is, and let -me know. Don't tell her anything about it. I'll go to her." - -"But let me send for her--" began the Squire, courteously. - -"No, give me my own way. I don't want her frightened." - -The Squire gave the orders she desired, and the last Mr. Byles heard as -he left the room was from Lady Meg: - -"Marks like that always mean something--eh, Pindar?" - -No doubt Mr. Pindar agreed, but his reply is lost. - -The girls in the avenue had made their plan. Sophy would not bow her -head to Mrs. Smilker, nor longer eat the bread of benevolence embittered -by servitude. She would go with Julia; she, too, would tread the -boards--if only she could get her feet on them; and when did any girl -seriously doubt her ability to do that? The pair were gay and laughing, -when suddenly through the gate came Lady Meg and the spaniels--Lady Meg -ahead as usual, and with a purposeful air. - -"Who are they?" cried Sophy. - -Hazleby is but twelve miles from Morpingham. Julia had been over to see -the big house, and had sighted Lady Meg in the garden. - -"It's Lady Margaret Duddington," she whispered, rather in a fright. -There was time for no more. Lady Meg was upon them. Sophy was identified -by her dress, and, to Lady Meg's devouring eyes, by the mark. - -"You're the girl who's been behaving so badly?" she said. - -Seeing no profit in arguing the merits, Sophy answered "Yes." - -At this point Julia observed one old gentleman nudge the other and -whisper something; it is morally certain that Pindar whispered to Pikes: -"Percival's girl!" - -"You seem to like your own way. What are you going to do? Say you're -sorry?" - -"No. I'm not sorry. I'm going away." - -"Come here, girl, let me look at you." - -Sophy obeyed, walking up to Lady Meg and fixing her eyes on her face. -She was interested, not frightened, as it seemed. Lady Meg looked long -at her. - -"Going away? Where to?" - -Julia spoke up. "She's coming with me, please, Lady Margaret." Julia, it -would seem, was a little frightened. - -"Who are you?" - -"Julia Robins. My mother lives there." She pointed to Woodbine Cottage. -"I--I'm on the stage--" - -"Lord help you!" remarked Lady Meg, disconcertingly. - -"Not at all!" protested Julia, her meaning plain, her expression of it -faulty. "And I--I'm going to help her to--to get an engagement. We're -friends." - -"What's she going to do with that on the stage?" Lady Meg's forefinger -almost touched the mark. - -"Oh, that's all right, Lady Margaret. Just a little cold cream and -powder--" - -"Nasty stuff!" said Lady Meg. - -A pause followed, Lady Meg still studying Sophy's face. Then, without -turning round, she made a remark obviously addressed to the gentlemen -behind her: - -"I expect this is Percival's young person." - -"Without a doubt," said Pikes. - -"And Percival was right about her, too," said Pindar. - -"Think so? I ain't sure yet," said Lady Meg. "And at any rate I don't -care twopence about that. But--" A long pause marked a renewed scrutiny. -"Your name's Sophy, isn't it?" - -"Yes." Sophy hesitated, then forced out the words: "Sophy Grouch." - -"Grouch?" - -"I said Grouch." - -"Humph! Well, Sophy, don't go on the stage. It's a poor affair, the -stage, begging Miss Julia's pardon--I'm sure she'll do admirably at it. -But a poor affair it is. There's not much to be said for the real -thing--but it's a deal better than the stage, Sophy." - -"The real thing?" Julia saw Sophy's eyes grow thoughtful. - -"The world--places--London--Paris--men and women--Lord help them! Come -with me, and I'll show you all that." - -"What shall I do if I come with you?" - -"Do? Eat and drink, and waste time and money, like the rest of us. Eh, -Pindar?" - -"Of course," said Mr. Pindar, with a placid smile. - -"I sha'n't be a--a servant again?" - -"Everybody in my house is a slave, I'm told, but you won't be more of a -slave than the rest." - -"Will you have me taught?" - -Lady Meg looked hard at her. For the first time she smiled, rather -grimly. "Yes, I'll have you taught, and I'll show you the Queen of -England, and, if you behave yourself, the Emperor of the French--Lord -help him!" - -"Not unless she behaves herself!" murmured Mr. Pindar. - -"Hold your tongue, Pindar! Now, then, what do you say? No, wait a -minute; I want you to understand it properly." She became silent for a -moment. Julia was thinking her a very rude woman; but, since Mr. Pindar -did not mind, who need? - -Lady Meg resumed. "I won't make an obligation of you--I mean, I won't be -bound to you; and you sha'n't be bound to me. You'll stay with me as -long as you like, or as long as I like, as the case may be. If you want -to go, put your visiting-card--yes, you'll have one--in an envelope and -send it to me. And if I want you to go, I'll put a hundred-pound note in -an envelope and send it to you--upon which you'll go, and no reasons -given! Is it agreed?" - -"It sounds all right," said Sophy. - -"Did you always have that mark on your cheek?" - -"Yes, always. Father told me so." - -"Well, will you come?" - -Sophy was torn. The stage was very attractive, and the love she had for -Julia Robins held her as though by a cord. But was the stage a poor -thing? Was that mysterious "real thing" better? Though even of that this -strange woman spoke scornfully. Already there must have been some -underground channel of understanding between them; for Sophy knew that -Lady Meg was more than interested in her--that she was actually excited -about her; and Lady Meg, in her turn, knew that she played a good card -when she dangled before Sophy's eyes the Queen of England and the -Emperor of the French--though even then came that saving "Lord help -him!" to damp an over-ardent expectation. - -"Let me speak to Julia," said Sophy. Lady Meg nodded; the girls linked -arms and walked apart. Pindar came to Lady Meg's elbow. - -"Another whim!" said he, in a low voice. Pikes was looking round the -view with a kind of vacant contentment. - -"Yes," she said. His lips moved. "I know what you said. You said: 'You -old fool!' Pindar." - -"Never, on my life, my lady!" They seemed more friends now than -patroness and client. Few saw them thus, but Pindar told Dunstanbury, -and the old gentleman was no liar. - -"Give me one more!" she whispered, plainly excited. "That mark must mean -something. It may open a way." - -"For her?" he asked, smiling. - -"It must for her. It may for me." - -"A way where?" - -"To knowledge--knowledge of the unknown. They may speak through her!" - -"Lady Meg! Lady Meg! And if they don't, the hundred-pound note! It's -very cruel." - -"Who knows?--who knows, Pindar? Fate has her ways." - -He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "Not half as amusing as your -ladyship's!" - -Sophy, twenty yards off, flung her arms round Julia. The embrace was -long; it spoke farewell. Lady Meg's eyes brightened. "She's coming with -me," she said. Pindar shrugged his shoulders again and fell back to -heel. Sophy walked briskly up. - -"I'll come, my lady," she said. - -"Good. To-morrow afternoon--to London. Mrs. Brownlow has the address. -Good-bye." She turned abruptly on her heel and marched off, her retinue -following. - -Julia came to Sophy. - -"We can write," she said. "And she's right. You must be for the real -thing, Sophy!" - -"My dear, my dear!" murmured Sophy, half in tears. "Yes, we must write." -She drew back and stood erect. "It's all very dark," she said. "But I -like it. London--and Paris! On the Seine!" Old lessons came back with -new import now. - -"The Emperor of the French!" Julia mocked--with tears in her eyes. - -A sudden thought occurred to Sophy. "What did she mean by 'Percival's -young person'? Is his name Percival?" - -Julia gave a little cry. "Lord Dunstanbury's? Yes. You've seen him -again?" - -She drew out the story. It made the sorrow of parting half forgotten. - -"You owe this to him, then! How romantic!" was actress Julia's -conclusion--in part a true one, no doubt. But Sophy, looking deeper, -fingered the Red Star. She had tracked the magnet of Lady Meg's regard, -the point of her interest, the pivot of decision for that mind of -whims. - - - - -V - -THE VISION OF "SOMETHING BRIGHT" - - -With that scene in the avenue of elm-trees at Morpingham there comes a -falling of the veil. Letters passed between Sophy and Julia Robins, but -they have not been preserved. The diary was not yet begun. Basil -Williamson did not move in the same world with Lady Meg and her -entourage: Dunstanbury was in Ireland, where his regiment was then -stationed. For the next twelve months there is only one glimpse of -Sophy--that a passing and accidental one, although not without its -significance as throwing a light on Lady Meg's adoption of Sophy (while -it lasted it amounted to that), and on the strange use to which she -hoped to be able to turn her _protégée_. The reference is, however, -tantalizingly vague just where explicitness would have been of curious -interest, though hardly of any real importance to a sensible mind. - -The reference occurs in a privately printed volume of reminiscences by -the late Captain Hans Fleming, R.N., a sailor of some distinction, but -better known as a naturalist. Writing in the winter of 1865-66 (he gives -no precise date), he describes in a letter a meeting with Lady -Meg--whom, it will be noticed, he calls "old Lady Meg," although at that -time she was but forty-nine. She had so early in life taken up an -attitude of resolute spinsterhood that there was a tendency to -exaggerate her years. - -"To-day in the park I met old Lady Meg Duddington. It was piercing cold, -but the carriage was drawn up under the trees. The poor spaniels on the -opposite seat were shivering! She stopped me and was, for her, very -gracious; she only 'Lord-helped-me' twice in the whole conversation. She -was full of her ghosts and spirits, her seers and witches. She has got -hold of an entirely new prophetess, a certain woman who calls herself -Madame Mantis and knows all the secrets of the future, both this side -the grave and the other. Beside Lady Meg sat a remarkably striking girl, -to whom she introduced me, but I didn't catch the name. I gathered that -this girl (who had an odd mark on one cheek, almost like a pale pink -wafer) was, in old Meg's mad mind, anyhow, mixed up with the -prophetess--as medium, or subject, or inspiration, or something of that -kind--I don't understand that nonsense, and don't want to. But when I -looked sceptical (and old Pindar chuckled--or it may have been his teeth -chattering with the cold), Meg nodded her head at the girl and said: -'She'll tell you a different tale some day: if you meet her in five -years' time, perhaps.' I don't know what the old lady meant; I suppose -the girl did, but she looked absolutely indifferent, and, indeed, bored. -One can't help being amused, but, seriously, it's rather sad for a man -who was brought up in the reverence of Lord Dunstanbury to see his only -daughter--a clever woman, too, naturally--devoting herself to such -childish stuff." - -Such is the passage; it is fair to add that most of the Captain's book -is of more general interest. As he implies, he had had a long -acquaintance with the Dunstanbury family, and took a particular interest -in anything that related to it. Nevertheless, what he says has its -place here; it fits in with and explains Lady Meg's excited and mystical -exclamation to Mr. Pindar at Morpingham, "They may speak through her!" -Apparently "they" had spoken--to what effect we cannot even conjecture, -unless an explanation be found in a letter of the Kravonian period in -which Sophy says to Julia: "You remember that saying of Mantis's when we -were in London--the one about how she saw something hanging in the air -over my head--something bright." That is all she says--and "something -bright" leaves the matter very vague. A sword--a crown--the nimbus of a -saint: imagination might play untrammelled. Still some prophecy was -made; Lady Meg built on it, and Sophy (for all her apparent -indifference) remembered it, and in after-days thought it worthy of -recall. That is as far as we can go; and with that passing glimpse, -Sophy Grouch (of course the mention of the wafer-like mark puts her -identity beyond question) passes out of sight for the time; indeed, as -Sophy Grouch, in the position in which we have seen her and in the name -under which we have known her, she passes out of sight forever. - - - - -PART II - -PARIS - - - - -I - -PHAROS, MANTIS, AND CO. - - -Lady Meg left London for Paris towards the end of 1865 or the beginning -of 1866, but we hear nothing of her doings until the early summer of -1868. The veil lifts then (so far as it ever lifts from before the face -of the Paris period), and shows us the establishment in the Rue de -Grenelle. A queer picture it is in many ways; it gives reason to think -that the state of mind to which Lady Meg had now come is but mildly -described as eccentricity. - -The eminent Lord Dunstanbury, Lady Meg's father, had been one of that -set of English Whigs and Liberals who were much at home in Paris in the -days of the July Monarchy. Among his friends was a certain Marquis de -Savres, the head of an old French family of Royalist principles. This -gentleman had, however, accepted the throne of Louis Philippe and the -political principles and leadership of Guizot. Between him and Lord -Dunstanbury there arose a close intimacy, and Lady Meg as a girl had -often visited in the Rue de Grenelle. Changed as her views were, and -separated as she was from most of her father's coterie in Paris, -friendship and intercourse between her and the Savres family had never -dropped. The present head of that family was Casimir de Savres, a young -man of twenty-eight, an officer of cavalry. Being a bachelor, he -preferred to dwell in a small apartment on the other side of the river, -and the family house in the Rue de Grenelle stood empty. Under some -arrangement (presumably a business one, for Marquis de Savres was by no -means rich) Lady Meg occupied the first floor of the roomy old mansion. -Here she is found established; with her, besides three French servants -and an English coachman (she has for the time apparently shaken off the -spaniels), is Mademoiselle Sophie de Gruche, in whose favor Sophy Grouch -has effected an unobtrusive disappearance. - -This harmless, if somewhat absurd, transformation was carried out with a -futile elaboration, smacking of Lady Meg's sardonic perversity rather -than of Sophy's directer methods. Sophy would probably have claimed the -right to call herself what she pleased, and left the world to account -for her name in any way it pleased. Lady Meg must needs fit her up with -a story. She was the daughter of a Creole gentleman married to an -English wife. Her mother being early left a widow, Sophy had been -brought up entirely in England--hence her indifferent acquaintance with -French. If this excuse served a purpose at first, at any rate it soon -became unnecessary. Sophy's marked talent for languages (she -subsequently mastered Kravonian, a very difficult dialect, in the space -of a few months) made French a second native tongue to her within a -year. But the story was kept up. Perhaps it imposed on nobody; but -nobody was rude enough--or interested enough--to question it openly. -Sophy herself never refers to it; but she used the name from this time -forward on all occasions except when writing to Julia Robins, when she -continues to sign "Sophy" as before--a habit which lasts to the end, -notwithstanding other changes in her public or official style. - -The times were stirring, a prelude to the great storm which was so soon -to follow. Paris was full of men who in the next few years were to make -or lose fame, to rise with a bound or fall with a crash. Into such -society Lady Meg's name, rank, and parentage would have carried her, had -she cared to go; she could have shown Sophy the Emperor of the French at -close quarters instead of contenting herself with a literal fulfilment -of her promise by pointing him out as he drove in the streets. But Lady -Meg was rabid against the Empire; her "Lord help him!"--the habitual -expression of contempt on her lips--was never lacking for the Emperor. -Her political associates were the ladies of the Faubourg St.-Germain, -and there are vague indications that Lady Meg was very busy among them -and conceived herself to be engaged in intrigues of vital importance. -The cracks in the imposing Imperial structure were visible enough by -now, and every hostile party was on the lookout for its chance. - -As we all know, perhaps no chance, certainly no power to use a chance, -was given to Lady Meg's friends; and we need not repine that ignorance -spares us the trouble of dealing with their unfruitful hopes and -disappointed schemes. Still the intrigues, the gossip, and the Royalist -atmosphere were to Sophy in some sort an introduction to political -interests, and no doubt had an influence on her mind. So far as she ever -acquired political principles--the existence of such in her mind is, it -must be confessed, doubtful--they were the tenets which reigned in the -Rue de Grenelle and in the houses of Lady Meg's Royalist allies. - -So on one side of Lady Meg are the nobles and their noble ladies sulking -and scheming, and on the other--a bizarre contrast--her witch and her -wizard, Madame Mantis and Pharos. Where the carcass is, there will the -vultures be; should the carcass get up and walk, presumably the vultures -would wing an expectant way after it. Madame Mantis--the woman of the -prophecy about "something bright"--had followed Lady Meg to Paris, -scenting fresh prey. But a more ingenious and powerful scoundrel came on -the scene; in association with Mantis--probably very close and not -creditable association--is Pharos, _alias_ Jean Coulin. In after-days, -under the Republic, this personage got himself into trouble, and was -tried at Lille for obtaining no less a sum than one hundred and fifty -thousand francs from a rich old Royalist lady who lived in the -neighborhood of the town. The rogue got his money under cover of a -vaticination that MacMahon would restore the monarchy--a nearer approach -to the real than he reached in his dealings with Lady Meg, but not, -probably, on that account any the more favorably viewed by his judges. - -The President's interrogation of the prisoner, ranging over his whole -life, tells us the bulk of what we know of him; but the earliest sketch -comes from Sophy herself, in one of the rare letters of this period -which have survived. "A dirty, scrubby fellow, with greasy hair and a -squint in his eye," she tells Julia Robins. "He wears a black cloak down -to his heels, and a gimcrack thing round his neck that he calls his -'periapt'--charm, I suppose he means. Says he can work spells with it; -and his precious partner Mantis _kisses it_ (Italics are Sophy's) -whenever she meets him. Phew! I'd like to give them both a dusting! What -do you think? Pharos, as he calls himself, tells Lady Meg he can make -the dead speak to her; and she says that isn't it possible that, since -they've died themselves and know all about it, they may be able to tell -her how not to! Seeing how this suits his book, it isn't Pharos who's -going to say 'no,' though he tells her to make a will in case anything -happens before he's ready to 'establish communication'--and perhaps they -won't tell, after all, but he thinks they will! Now I come into the -game! Me being very sympathetic, they're to talk _through me_ (Italics -again are Sophy's). Did you ever hear of such nonsense? I told Master -Pharos that I didn't know whether his ghosts would talk through me, but -I didn't need any of their help to pretty well see through him! But Lady -Meg's hot on it. I suppose it's what I'm here for, and I must let him -try--or pretend to. It's all one to me, and it pleases Lady Meg. Only he -and I have nothing else to do with each other! I'll see to that. To tell -you the truth, I don't like the look in his eye sometimes--and I don't -think Mrs. Mantis would either!" - -As a medium Sophy was a failure. She was antagonistic--purposely -antagonistic, said Jean Coulin, attempting to defend himself against the -President's suggestion that he had received something like three -thousand pounds from Lady Meg and given her not a jot of supernatural -information in return. This failure of Sophy's was the first rift -between Lady Meg and her. Pharos could have used it against her, and his -power was great; but it was not at present his game to eject her from -the household. He had other ends in view; and there was no question of -the hundred-pound note yet. - -It is pleasant to turn to another figure--one which stands out in the -meagre records of this time and bears its prominence well. Casimir -Marquis de Savres is neither futile nor sordid, neither schemer nor -impostor. He was a brave and simple soldier and gentleman, holding his -ancestral principles in his heart, but content to serve his country in -evil times until good should come. He was courteous and attentive to -Lady Meg, touching her follies with a light hand; and to Sophy he gave -his love with an honest and impetuous sincerity, which he masked by a -gay humor--lest his lady should be grieved at the havoc she herself had -made. His feelings about Pharos, his partner, and his jugglings, need no -description. "If you are neither restoring the King nor raising the -devil to-morrow, I should like to come to breakfast," he writes in one -of his early letters. "O Lady of the Red Star, if it were to restore you -to your kingdom in the star whose sign you bear, I would raise the devil -himself, all laws of Church and State notwithstanding! I came on Tuesday -evening--you were surrounded by most unimpeachable dowagers. Excellent -principles and irreproachable French! But, _mon Dieu_, for conversation! -I came on Thursday afternoon. Pharos and Mantis held sway, and I dared -not look round for fear of my ancestors being there to see me in the -Emperor's uniform! Tell me when there will be no ancestors living or -dead, nor dowagers nor devils, that I may come and see you. If dear Lady -Meg (Laidee Maig!)[1] _should_ be pursuing one or the other in other -places, yet forbid me not to come. She has whims, we know, but not, -thank Heaven, many principles; or, if she has our principles, at least -she scorns our etiquette. Moreover, queens make etiquette, and are not -ruled by what they make. And Star-Queens are more free and more -absolute still. What a long note--all to ask for a breakfast! No, it's -to ask for a sight of your eyes--and a volume would not be too long for -me to write--though it would be a bad way to make friends with the eyes -that had to read it! I believe I go on writing because it seems in some -way to keep you with me; and so, if I could write always of you, I would -lay down my sword and take up the pen for life. Yet writing to you, -though sweet as heaven, is as the lowest hell from which Pharos fetches -devils as compared with seeing you. Be kind. Farewell. - - "CASIMIR." - -[Footnote 1: He is apparently mimicking Sophy's mimicking of his -pronunciation.] - -To this he adds a postscript, referring apparently to some unrecorded -incident: "Yes, the Emperor did ask who it was the other day. I was sure -his eye _hit the mark_. I have the information direct." - - * * * * * - -It is very possible that this direct information pleased Sophy. - -Last among the prominent members of the group in which Sophy lived in -Paris is Madame Zerkovitch. Her husband was of Russian extraction, his -father having settled in Kravonia and become naturalized there. The son -was now in Paris as correspondent to one of the principal papers of -Slavna. Madame Zerkovitch was by birth a Pole; not a remarkable woman in -herself, but important in this history as the effective link between -these days and Sophy's life in Kravonia. She was small and thin, with -auburn hair and very bright, hazel eyes, with light-colored lashes. An -agreeable talker, an accomplished singer, and a kind-hearted woman, she -was an acquaintance to be welcomed. Whatever strange notions she -harbored about Sophy in after-days, she conceived from the beginning, -and never lost, a strong affection for her, and their friendship -ripened quickly from their first meeting at Lady Meg's, where Marie -Zerkovitch was a frequent visitor, and much interested in Pharos's -hocus-pocus. - -The occasion was one of the séances where Sophy was to be medium. It was -a curious scene. Gaunt Lady Meg, with her eyes strained and eager, -superintended the arrangements. "Lord help you!" was plentiful for -everybody, even for the prophet Pharos himself when his miracle was -behind time. Mantis was there, subterraneously scornful of her unwilling -rival; and the rogue Pharos himself, with his oily glibness, his cheap -mystery, and his professional jargon. Two or three dowagers and Casimir -de Savres--who had to unbuckle his sword and put it outside the door for -reasons insufficiently explained--completed the party. In the middle sat -Sophy, smiling patiently, but with her white brow wrinkled just a little -beneath the arching masses of her dark hair. On her lips the smile -persisted all through; the mark was hardly visible. "No more than the -slightest pinkness; I didn't notice it till I had looked at her for full -five minutes," says Marie Zerkovitch. This was, no doubt, the normal -experience of those who met Sophy first in moments of repose or of -depression. - -Sophy is to "go off." Pharos makes his passes and goes through the rest -of his performance. - -"I feel nothing at all--not even sleepy," said Sophy. "Only just tired -of staring at monsieur!" - -Casimir de Savres laughed; old Lady Meg looked furious; Mantis hid a -sickly smile. Down go the lights to a dull gloom--at the prophet's -request. More gestures, more whisperings, and then sighs of exhaustion -from the energetic wizard. - -"Get on, Lord help you!" came testily from Lady Meg. Had Pharos been -veritably her idol, she would have kicked him into granting her prayer. - -"She won't give me her will--she won't be passive," he protests, almost -eliciting a perverse sympathy. - -He produced a glittering disk, half as large again as a five-franc -piece; it gave forth infinite sparkles through the dark of the room. -"Look at that! Look hard--and think of nothing else!" he commanded. - -Silence fell on the room. Quick breaths came from eager Lady Meg; -otherwise all was still. - -"It's working!" whispered the wizard. "The power is working." - -Silence again. Then a sudden, overpowering peal of laughter from the -medium--hearty, rippling, irrepressible and irresistible. - -"Oh, Lady Meg, I feel such a fool--oh, such a fool!" she cried--and her -laughter mastered her again. - -Irresistible! Marie Zerkovitch joined in Casimir's hearty mirth, -Mantis's shrill cackle and the sniggers of the dowagers swelled the -chorus. Casimir sprang up and turned up the gas, laughing still. The -wizard stood scowling savagely; Lady Meg glared malignantly at her -ill-chosen medium and disappointing _protégée_. - -"What's the reason for it, Lord help you?" she snarled, with a very -nasty look at Pharos. - -He saw the danger. His influence was threatened, his patroness's belief -in him shaken. - -"I don't know," he answered, in apparent humility. "I can't account for -it. It happens, so far as I know, only in one case--and Heaven forbid -that I should suggest that of mademoiselle." - -"What is the case?" snapped Lady Meg, by no means pacified--in fact, -still dangerously sceptical. - -Pharos made an answer, grave and serious in tone in purpose and effect -malignantly nonsensical: "When the person whom it is sought to subject -to this particular influence (he touched the pocket where his precious -disk now lay) has the Evil Eye." - -An appeal to a superstition old as the hills and widespread as the human -race--would it ever fail to hit some mark in a company of a dozen? -Casimir laughed in hearty contempt, Sophy laughed in mischievous -mockery. But two of the dowagers crossed themselves, Lady Meg started -and glowered--and little Madame Zerkovitch marked, recorded, and -remembered. Her mind was apt soil for seed of that order. - -That, in five years' time, five years in jail awaited the ingenious -Monsieur Pharos occasions a consoling reflection. - - - - -II - -THE LORD OF YOUTH - - -Sophy's enemies were at work--and Sophy was careless. Such is the -history of the next twelve months. Mantis was installed medium now--and -the revelations came. But they came slow, vague, fitful, tantalizing. -Something was wrong, Pharos confessed ruefully--what could it be? For -surely Lady Meg by her faith (and, it may be added, her liberality) -deserved well of the Unseen Powers? He hinted at that Evil Eve again, -but without express accusation. Under "the influence" Mantis would speak -of "the malign one"; but Mantis, when awake, thought Mademoiselle de -Gruche a charming young lady! It was odd and mysterious. Pharos could -make nothing of it; he, too, thought Mademoiselle Sophie--he advanced to -that pleasant informality of description--quite ravishing and entirely -devoted to Lady Meg, only, unhappily, so irresponsive to the Unseen--a -trifle unsympathetic, it might be. But what would you? The young had no -need to think of death or the dead. Was it to be expected, then, that -Mademoiselle Sophie would be a good subject, or take much interest in -the work, great and wonderful though it might be? - -The pair of rogues did their work well and quietly--so quietly that -nothing of it would be known were it not that they quarrelled later on -over the spoils of this and other transactions, and Madame Mantis, in -the witness-box at Lille, used her memory and her tongue freely. "The -plan now was to get rid of the young lady," she said, plainly. "Pharos -feared her power over my lady, and that my lady might leave her all the -money. Pharos hated the young lady because she would have nothing to say -to him, and told him plainly that she thought him a charlatan. She had -courage, yes! But if she would have joined in with him--why, then into -the streets with me! I knew that well enough, and Pharos knew I knew it. -So I hated her, too, fearing that some day she and he would make up -their differences, and I--that for me! Yes, that was how we were, -Monsieur le Président." Her lucid exposition elicited a polite -compliment from Monsieur le Président--and we also are obliged to her. - -But Sophy was heedless. She showed afterwards that she could fight well -for what she loved well, and that with her an eager heart made a strong -hand. Her heart was not in this fight. The revelation of mad Lady Meg's -true motive for taking her up may well have damped a gratitude otherwise -becoming in Sophy Grouch transmuted to Sophie de Gruche. Yet the -gratitude remained; she fought for Lady Meg--for her sanity and some -return of sanity in her proceedings. In so fighting she fought against -herself--for Lady Meg was very mad now. For herself she did not fight; -her heart and her thoughts were elsewhere. The schemes in the Rue de -Grenelle occupied her hardly more than the clash of principles, the -efforts of a falling dynasty, the struggles of rising freedom, the stir -and seething of the great city and the critical times in which she -lived. - -For she was young, and the Lord of Youth had come to visit her in his -shower of golden promise. The days were marked for her no more by the -fawning advances or the spiteful insinuations of Pharos than by the -heroics of an uneasy emperor or the ingenious experiments in reconciling -contradictions wherein his ministers were engaged. For her the days -lived or lived not as she met or failed to meet Casimir de Savres. It -was the season of her first love. Yet, with all its joy, the shadow of -doubt is over it. It seems not perfect; the delight is in receiving, not -in giving; his letters to her, full of reminiscences of their meetings -and talks, are shaded with doubt and eloquent of insecurity. She was no -more than a girl in years; but in some ways her mind was precociously -developed--her ambition was spreading its still growing wings. Casimir's -constant tone of deference--almost of adulation--marks in part the man, -in part the convention in which he had been bred; but it marks, too, the -suppliant: to the last he is the wooer, not the lover, and at the end of -his ecstasy lies the risk of despair. For her part she often speaks of -him afterwards, and always with the tenderest affection; she never -ceased to carry with her wherever she went the bundle of his letters, -tied with a scrap of ribbon and inscribed with a date. But there is one -reference, worthy of note, to her innermost sentiments towards him, to -the true state of her heart as she came to realize it by-and-by. "I -loved him, but I hadn't grown into my feelings," she says. Brief and -almost accidental as the utterance is, it is full of significance; but -its light is thrown back. It is the statement of how she came to know -how she had been towards him, not of how in those happy days she seemed -to herself to be. - -He knew about Grouch; he had been told by a copious superfluity of -female friendliness--by Lady Meg, cloaking suspicious malignity under -specious penitence; by Madame Mantis with impertinent and intrusive -archness; by Marie Zerkovitch in the sheer impossibility of containing -within herself any secret which had the bad fortune to be intrusted to -her. Sophy's own confession, made with incredible difficulty--she hated -the name so--fell flat and was greeted with a laugh of mockery. - -It happened at the _Calvaire_ at Fontainebleau, whither they had made a -day's and night's excursion, under the escort of Marie Zerkovitch and a -student friend of hers from the Quartier Latin. These two they had left -behind sipping beer at a restaurant facing the château. On the eminence -which commands the white little town dropped amid the old forest, over -against the red roofs of the palace vying in richness with the turning -leaves, in sight of a view in its own kind unsurpassed, in its own charm -unequalled, Sophy broke the brutal truth which was to end the -infatuation of the head of a house old as St. Louis. - -"It's bad to pronounce, is it?" asked Casimir, smiling and touching her -hand. "Ah, well, good or bad, I couldn't pronounce it, so to me it is -nothing." - -"They'd all say it was terrible--a mésalliance." - -"I fear only one voice on earth saying that." - -"And the fraud I am--de Gruche!" She caught his hand tightly. Never -before had it occurred to her to defend or to excuse the transparent -fiction. - -"I know stars fall," he said, with his pretty gravity, not too grave. "I -wish that they may rise to their own height again--and I rise with -them." - -The sun sank behind the horizon. A gentle afterglow of salmon-pink -rested over the palace and city; the forest turned to a frame of smoky, -brownish black. Casimir waved a hand towards it and laughed merrily. - -"Before we were, it was--after we are, it shall be! I sound as old as -Scripture! It has seen old masters--and great mistresses! Saving the -proprieties, weren't you Montespan or Pompadour?" - -"De la Vallière?" she laughed. "Or Maintenon?" - -"For good or evil, neither! Do I hurt you?" - -"No; you make me think, though," answered Sophy. "Why?" - -"They niggled--at virtue or at vice. You don't niggle! Neither did -Montespan nor Pompadour." - -"And so I am to be--Marquise de--?" - -"Higher, higher!" he laughed. "Madame la Maréchale--!" - -"It is war, then--soon--you think?" She turned to him with a sudden -tension. - -He pointed a Frenchman's eloquent forefinger to the dark mass of the -château, whose chimneys rose now like gloomy interrogation-marks to an -unresponsive, darkened sky. "He is there now--the Emperor! Perhaps he -walks in his garden by the round pond--thinking, dreaming, balancing." - -"Throwing balls in the air, as conjurers do?" - -"Yes, my star." - -"And if he misses the first?" - -"He'll seek applause by the second. And the second, I think, would be -war." - -"And you would--go?" - -"To what other end do I love the Lady of the Red Star--alas! I can't see -it--save to bring her glory?" - -"That's French," said Sophy, with a laugh. "Wouldn't you rather stay -with me and be happy?" - -"Who speaks to me?" he cried, springing to his feet. "Not you!" - -"No, no," she answered, "I have no fear. What is it, Casimir, that -drives us on?" - -"Drives us on! You! You, too?" - -"It's not a woman's part, is it?" - -He caught her round the waist, and she allowed his clasp. But she grew -grave, yet smiled again softly. - -"If all life were an evening at Fontainebleau--a fine evening at -Fontainebleau!" she murmured, in the low clearness which marked her -voice. - -"Mightn't it be?" - -"With war? And with what drives us on?" - -He sighed, and his sigh puzzled her. - -"Oh, well," she cried, "at least you know I'm Sophy Grouch, and my -father was as mean as the man who opens your lodge-gate." - -The sky had gone a blue-black. A single star sombrely announced the -coming pageant. - -"And his daughter high as the hopes that beckon me to my career!" - -"You've a wonderful way of talking," smiled Sophy Grouch--simple Essex -in contact with Paris at that instant. - -"You'll be my wife, Sophie?" - -"I don't think Lady Meg will keep me long. Pharos is working hard--so -Marie Zerkovitch declares. I should bring you a dot of two thousand five -hundred francs!" - -"Do you love me?" - -The old question rang clear in the still air. Who has not heard it of -women--or uttered it of men? Often so easy, sometimes so hard. When all -is right save one thing--or when all is wrong save one thing--then it is -hard to answer, and may have been hard to ask. With Casimir there was no -doubt, save the doubt of the answer. Sophy stood poised on a -hesitation. The present seemed perfect. Only an unknown future cried to -her through the falling night. - -"I'll win glory for you," he cried. "The Emperor will fight!" - -"You're no Emperor's man!" she mocked. - -"Yes, while he means France. I'm for anybody who means France." For a -moment serious, the next he kissed her hand merrily. "Or for anybody -who'll give me a wreath, a medal, a toy to bring home to her I love." - -"You're very fascinating," Sophy confessed. - -It was not the word. Casimir fell from his exaltation. "It's not love, -that of yours," said he. - -"No--I don't know. You might make it love. Oh, how I talk beyond my -rights!" - -"Beyond your rights? Impossible! May I go on trying?" - -He saw Sophy's smile dimly through the gloom. From it he glanced to the -dying gleam of the white houses dropped among the trees, to the dull -mass of the ancient home of history and kings. But back he came to the -living, elusive, half-seen smile. - -"Can you stop?" said Sophy. - -He raised his hat from his head and stooped to kiss her hand. - -"Nor would nor could," said he--"in the warmth of life or the cold hour -of death!" - -"No, no--if you die, it's gloriously!" The hour carried her away. -"Casimir, I wish I were sure!" - -The spirit of his race filled his reply: "You want to be dull?" - -"No--I--I--I want you to kiss my cheek." - -"May I salute the star?" - -"But it's no promise!" - -"It's better!" - -"My dear, I--I'm very fond of you." - -"That's all?" - -"Enough for to-night! What's he thinking of down there?" - -"The Emperor? I'm not so much as sure he's there, really. Somebody said -he had started for St. Cloud this morning." - -"Pretend he's there!" - -"Then of anything except how many men die for what he wants." - -"Or of how many women weep?" - -Her reply set a new light to his passion. "You'd weep?" he cried. - -"Oh, I suppose so!" The answer was half a laugh, half a sob. - -"But not too much! No more than the slightest dimness to the glowing -star!" - -Sophy laughed in a tremulous key; her body shook. She laid her hands in -his. "No more, no more. Surely Marie and the student are bored? Isn't it -supper-time? Oh, Casimir, if I were worthy, if I were sure! What's ahead -of us? Must we go back? To-night, up here, it all seems so simple! Does -he mean war? He down there? And you'll fight!" She looked at him for an -instant. He was close to her. She thrust him away from her. "Don't fight -thinking of me," she said. - -"How otherwise?" he asked. - -She tossed her head impatiently. "I don't know--but--but Pharos makes me -afraid. He--he says that things I love die." - -The young soldier laughed. "That leaves him pretty safe," said he. - -She put her arm through his, and they walked down. It had been a night -to be forgotten only when all is. Yet she went from him unpledged, and -tossed in her bed, asking: "Shall I?" and answered: "I'll decide -to-morrow!" - -But to-morrow was not at the _Calvaire_ nor in the seducing sweetness of -the silent trees. When she rose, he was gone--and the student, too. -Marie Zerkovitch, inquisitively friendly, flung a fly for news. - -"He's as fine a gentleman as Lord Dunstanbury!" cried Sophy Grouch. - -"As who?" asked Marie. - -Sophy smiled over her smoking coffee. "As the man who first saw me," she -said. "But, oh, I'm puzzled!" - -Marie Zerkovitch bit her roll. - -"Armand was charming," she observed. The student was Armand. He, too, -let it be recorded, had made a little love, yet in all seemly ardor. - -So ends this glimpse of the happy days. - - - - -III - -THE NOTE--AND NO REASONS - - -That feverish month of July--fitting climax to the scorching, arid -summer of 1870--had run full half its course. Madness had stricken the -rulers of France; to avoid danger they rushed on destruction. Gay -madness spread through the veins of Paris. Perverse always, Lady Meg -Duddington chose this moment for coming back to her senses--or at least -for abandoning the particular form of insanity to which she had devoted -the last five years. - -One afternoon she called her witch and her wizard. "You're a pair of -quacks, and I've been an old fool," she said, composedly, sitting -straight up in her high-backed chair. She flung a couple of -thousand-franc notes across the table. "You can go," she ended, with -contemptuous brevity. Mantis's evil temper broke out: "She has done -this, the malign one!" Pharos was wiser; he had not done badly out of -Lady Meg, and madness such as hers is apt to be recurrent. His farewell -was gentle, his exit not ungraceful; yet he, too, prayed her to beware -of a certain influence. "Stuff! You don't know what you're talking -about!" Lady Meg jerked out, and pointed with her finger to the door. -"So we went out, and to avoid any trouble we left Paris the same day. -But this man here would not give me any of the money, though I had done -as much to earn it as he had, or more." So injured Madame Mantis told -Monsieur le Président at Lille. - -Early on the morning of Sunday, the 17th, having received word through -Lady Meg's maid that her presence was not commanded in the Rue de -Grenelle, Sophy slipped round to the Rue du Bac and broke in on Marie -Zerkovitch, radiant with her great news and imploring her friend to -celebrate it by a day in the country. - -"It means that dear old Lady Meg will be what she used to be to me!" she -cried. "We shall go back to England, I expect, and--I wonder what that -will be like!" - -Her face grew suddenly thoughtful. Back to England! How would that suit -Sophie de Gruche? And what was to happen about Casimir de Savres? The -period of her long, sweet indecision was threatened with a forced -conclusion. - -Marie Zerkovitch was preoccupied against both her friend's joy and her -friend's perplexity. Great affairs touched her at home. There would be -war, she said, certainly war; to-day the Senate went to St. Cloud to see -the Emperor. Zerkovitch had started thither already, on the track of -news. The news in the near future would certainly be war, and Zerkovitch -would follow the armies, still on the track of news. "He went before, in -the war of 'sixty-six," she said, her lips trembling. "And he all but -died of fever; that kills the correspondents just as much as the -soldiers. Ah, it's so dangerous, Sophie--and so terrible to be left -behind alone. I don't know what I shall do! My husband wants me to go -home. He doesn't believe the French will win, and he fears trouble for -those who stay here." She looked at last at Sophy's clouded face. "Ah, -and your Casimir--he will be at the front!" - -"Yes, Casimir will be at the front," said Sophy, a ring of excitement -hardly suppressed in her voice. - -"If he should be killed!" murmured Marie, throwing her arms out in a -gesture of lamentation. - -"You bird of ill omen! He'll come back covered with glory." - -The two spent a quiet day together, Sophy helping Marie in her homely -tasks. Zerkovitch's campaigning kit was overhauled--none knew how soon -orders for an advance might come--his buttons put on, his thick -stockings darned. The hours slipped away in work and talk. At six -o'clock they went out and dined at a small restaurant hard by. Things -seemed very quiet there. The fat waiter told them with a shrug: "We -sha'n't have much noise here to-night--the lads will be over there!" He -pointed across the river. "They'll be over there most of the night--on -the _grands boulevards_. Because it's war, madame. Oh, yes, it's war!" -The two young women sipped their coffee in silence. "As a lad I saw -1830. I was out in the streets in 1851. What shall I see next?" he asked -them as he swept his napkin over the marble table-top. If he stayed at -his post, he saw many strange things; unnatural fires lit his skies, and -before his doors brother shed brother's blood. - -The friends parted at half-past seven. Marie hoped her husband would be -returning home soon, and with news; Sophy felt herself due in the Rue de -Grenelle. She reached the house there a little before eight. The -_concierge_ was not in his room; she went up-stairs unseen, and passed -into the drawing-room. The inner door leading to the room Lady Meg -occupied stood open. Sophy called softly, but there was no answer. She -walked towards the door and was about to look into the room, thinking -that perhaps Lady Meg was asleep, when she heard herself addressed. The -Frenchwoman who acted as their cook had come in and stood now on the -threshold with a puzzled, distressed look on her face. - -"I'm sorry, Mademoiselle Sophie, to tell you, but my lady has gone." - -"Gone! Where to?" - -"To England, I believe. This morning, after you had gone out, she -ordered everything to be packed. It was done. She paid us here off, -bidding me alone stay till orders reached me from Monsieur le Marquis. -Then she went; only the coachman accompanied her. I think she started -for Calais. At least, she is gone." - -"She said--said nothing about me?" - -"You'll see there's a letter for you on the small table in the window -there." - -"Oh yes! Thank you." - -"Your room is ready for you to-night." - -"I've dined. I shall want nothing. Good-night." - -Sophy walked over to the little table in the window, and for a few -moments stood looking at the envelope which lay there, addressed to her -in Lady Meg's sprawling hand. The stately room in the Rue de Grenelle -seemed filled with a picture which its walls had never seen; old words -re-echoed in Sophy's ears: "If I want you to go, I'll put a -hundred-pound note in an envelope and send it to you; upon which you'll -go, and no reasons given! Is it agreed?" As if from a long way off, she -heard a servant-girl answer: "It sounds all right." She saw the old -elm-trees at Morpingham, and heard the wind murmur in their boughs; -Pindar chuckled, and Julia Robins's eyes were wet with tears. - -"And no reasons given!" It had sounded all right--before five years of -intimacy and a life transformed. It sounded different now. Yet the -agreement had been made between the strange lady and the eager girl. Nor -were reasons hard to find. They stood out brutally plain. Having sent -her prophet to the right about, Lady Meg wanted no more of her -medium--her most disappointing medium. "They" would not speak through -Sophy; perhaps Lady Meg did not now want them to speak at all. - -Sophy tore the envelope right across its breadth and shook out the -flimsy paper within. It was folded in four. She did not trouble to open -it. Lady Meg was a woman of her word, and here was the hundred-pound -note of the Bank of England--"upon which you'll go, and no reasons -given!" With a bitter smile she noticed that the note was soiled, the -foldings old, the edges black where they were exposed. She had no doubt -that all these years Lady Meg had carried it about, so as to be ready -for the literal fulfilment of her bond. - -"Upon which," said Sophy, "I go." - -The bitter smile lasted perhaps a minute more; then the girl flung -herself into a chair in a fit of tears as bitter. She had served--or -failed to serve--Lady Meg's mad purpose, and she was flung aside. Very -likely she had grown hateful--she, the witness of insane whims now past -and out of favor. The dismissal might not be unnatural; but, for all -their bargain, the manner was inhuman. They had lived and eaten and -drunk together for so long. Had there been no touch of affection, no -softening of the heart? It seemed not--it seemed not. Sophy wept and -wondered. "Oh, that I had never left you, Julia!" she cries in her -letter, and no doubt cried now; for Julia had given her a friend's love. -If Lady Meg had given her only what one spares for a dog--a kind word -before he is banished, a friendly lament at parting! - -Suddenly through the window came a boy's shrill voice: "_Vive la -guerre!_" - -Sophy sprang to her feet, caught up the dirty note, and thrust it inside -her glove. Without delay, seemingly without hesitation, she left the -house, passed swiftly along the street, and made for the Pont Royal. She -was bound for the other bank and for the Boulevard des Italiens, where -Casimir de Savres had his lodging. The stream of traffic set with her. -She heeded it not. The streets were full of excited groups, but there -was no great tumult yet. Men were eagerly reading the latest editions of -the papers. Sophy pushed on till she reached Casimir's house. She was -known there. Her coming caused surprise to the _concierge_--it was not -the proper thing; but he made no difficulty. He showed her to Casimir's -sitting-room, but of Casimir he could give no information, save that he -presumed he would return to sleep. - -"I must wait--I must see him," she said; and, as the man left her, she -went to the window, flung it open wide, and stood there, looking down -into the great street. - -The lights blazed now. Every seat at every _café_ was full. The -newspapers did a great trade; a wave of infinite talk, infinite chaff, -infinite laughter rose to her ears. A loud-voiced fellow was selling -pictures of the King of Prussia--as he looks now, and as he will look! -The second sheet never failed of a great success. Bands of lads came by -with flags and warlike shouts. Some cheered them, more laughed and -chaffed. One broad-faced old man she distinguished in the _café_ -opposite; he looked glum and sulky and kept arguing to his neighbor, -wagging a fat forefinger at him repeatedly; the neighbor shrugged bored -shoulders; after all, he had not made the war--it was the Emperor and -those gentlemen at St. Cloud! As she watched, the stir grew greater, the -bands of marching students more frequent and noisy, "_A Berlin!_" they -cried now, amid the same mixture of applause and tolerant amusement. A -party of girls paraded down the middle of the street, singing "_J'aime -les militaires!_" The applause grew to thunder as they went by, and the -laughter broke into one great crackle when the heroines had passed. - -She turned away with a start, conscious of a presence in the room. -Casimir came quickly across to her, throwing his helmet on the table as -he passed. He took her hands. "I know. Lady Meg wrote to me," he said. -"And you are here!" - -"I have no other home now," she said. - -With a light of joy in his eyes he kissed her lips. - -"I come to you only when I'm in trouble!" she said, softly. - -"It is well," he answered, and drew her with him back to the window. - -Together they stood looking down. - -"It is war, then?" she asked. - -"Without doubt it's war--without doubt," he answered, gravely. "And -beyond that no man knows anything." - -"And you?" she asked. - -He took her hands again, both of hers in his. "My lady of the Red Star!" -he murmured, softly. - -"And you?" - -"You wouldn't have it otherwise?" - -"Heaven forbid! God go with you as my heart goes! When do you go?" - -"I take the road in an hour for Strasburg. We are to be of MacMahon's -corps." - -"In an hour?" - -"Yes." - -"Your preparations--are they made?" - -"Yes." - -"And you are free?" - -"Yes." - -"Then you've an hour to make me sure I love you!" - -He answered as to a woman of his own stock. - -"I have an hour now--and all the campaign," said he. - - - - -IV - -THE PICTURE AND THE STAR - - -The letter which gives Julia Robins the history of that Sunday--so -eventful alike for France and for Sophy--is the last word of hers from -Paris. Julia attached importance to it, perhaps for its romantic flavor, -perhaps because she fancied that danger threatened her friend. At any -rate, she bestowed it with the care she gave to the later letters, and -did not expose it to the hazards which destroyed most of its -predecessors. It is dated from Marie Zerkovitch's apartment in the Rue -du Bac, and it ends: "I shall stay here, whatever happens--unless -Casimir tells me to meet him in Berlin!" - -The rash comprehensiveness of "whatever happens" was not for times like -those, when neither man nor nation knew what fate an hour held; but for -three weeks more she abode with Marie Zerkovitch. Marie was much -disturbed in her mind. Zerkovitch had begun to send her ominous letters -from the front--or as near thereto as he could get; the burden of them -was that things looked bad for the French, and that her hold on Paris -should be a loose one. He urged her to go home, where he would join -her--for a visit at all events, very likely to stay. Marie began to talk -of going home in a week or so; but she lingered on for the sake of being -nearer the news of the war. So, amid the rumors of unreal victories and -the tidings of reverses only too real, if not yet great, the two women -waited. - -Casimir had found time and opportunity to send Sophy some half-dozen -notes (assuming she preserved all she received). On the 5th of August, -the eve of Wõrth, he wrote at somewhat greater length: "It is night. I -am off duty for an hour. I have been in the saddle full twelve hours, -and I believe that, except the sentries and the outposts, I am the only -man awake. We need to sleep. The Red Star, which shines everywhere for -me, shines for all of us over our bivouac to-night. It must be that we -fight to-morrow. Fritz is in front of us, and to-morrow he will come on. -The Marshal must stop him and spoil his game; if we don't go forward -now, we must go back. And we don't mean going back. It will be the first -big clash--and a big one, I think, it will be. Our fellows are in fine -heart (I wish their boots were as good!), but those devils over -there--well, they can fight, too, and Fritz can get every ounce out of -them. I am thinking of glory and of you. Is it not one and the same -thing? For, in that hour, I didn't make you sure! I know it. Sophie, I'm -hardly sorry for it. It seems sweet to have something left to do. Ah, -but you're hard, aren't you? Shall I ever be sure of you? Even though I -march into Berlin at the head of a regiment! - -"I can say little more--the orderly waits for my letter. Yet I have so -much, much more to say. All comes back to me in vivid snatches. I am -with you in the old house--or by the _Calvaire_ (you remember?); or -again by the window; or while we walked back that Sunday night. I hear -your voice--the low, full-charged voice. I see your eyes; the star glows -anew for me. Adieu! I live for you always so long as I live. If I die, -it will be in the thought of you, and they will kill no prouder man than -Sophie's lover. To have won your love (ah, by to-morrow night, yes!) and -to die for France--would it be ill done for a short life? By my faith, -no! I'll make my bow to my ancestors without shame. 'I, too, have done -my part, messieurs!' say I, as I sit down with my forefathers. Sophie, -adieu! You won't forget? I don't think you can quite forget. Your -picture rides with me, your star shines ahead. - - "CASIMIR." - - * * * * * - -He was not wrong. They fought next day. The letter is endorsed "8th -August," presumably the date of its receipt. That day came also the news -of the disaster. On the 11th the casualty list revealed Casimir de -Savres's name. A few lines from a brother officer a day later gave -scanty details. In the great charge of French cavalry which marked the -closing stages of the battle he had been the first man hit of all his -regiment--shot through the heart--and through the picture of Sophy which -lay over his heart. - -No word comes from Sophy herself. And Madame Zerkovitch is brief: "She -showed me the picture. The bullet passed exactly through where that mark -on her cheek is. It was fearful; I shuddered; I hoped she didn't see. -She seemed quite stunned. But she insisted on coming with me to -Kravonia, where I had now determined to go at once. I did not want her -to come. I thought no good would come of it. But what could I do? She -would not return to England; she could not stay alone in Paris. I was -the only friend she had in the world. She asked no more than to travel -with me. 'When once I am there, I can look after myself,' she said." - -The pair--a little fragment of a great throng, escaping or thrust -forth--left Paris together on the 13th or 14th of August, en route for -Kravonia. With Sophy went the bullet-pierced picture and the little -bundle of letters. She did not forget. With a sore wound in her heart -she turned to face a future dark, uncertain, empty of all she had loved. -And--had she seen Marie Zerkovitch's shudder? Did she remember again, as -she had remembered by the _Calvaire_ at Fontainebleau, how Pharos had -said that what she loved died? She had bidden Casimir not fight thinking -of her. Thinking of her, he had fought and died. All she ever wrote -about her departure is one sentence--"I went to Kravonia in sheer -despair of the old life; I had to have something new." - -Stricken she went forth from the stricken city, where hundreds of men -were cutting down the trees beneath whose shade she had often walked and -ridden with her lover. - - - - -PART III - -KRAVONIA - - - - -I - -THE NAME-DAY OF THE KING - - -The ancient city of Slavna, for a thousand years or more and under many -dynasties the capital of Kravonia, is an island set in a plain. It lies -in the broad valley of the Krath, which at this point flows due east. -Immediately above the city the river divides into two branches, known as -the North and the South rivers; Slavna is clasped in the embrace of -these channels. Conditioned by their course, its form is not circular, -but pear-shaped, for they bend out in gradual broad curves to their -greatest distance from one another, reapproaching quickly after that -point is passed till they meet again at the end--or, rather, what was -originally the end--of the city to the east; the single reunited river -may stand for the stalk of the pear. - -In old days the position was a strong one; nowadays it is obviously much -less defensible; and those in power had recognized this fact in two -ways--first by allocating money for a new and scientific system of -fortifications; secondly by destroying almost entirely the ancient and -out-of-date walls which had once been the protection of the city. Part -of the wall on the north side, indeed, still stood, but where it had -escaped ruin it was encumbered and built over with warehouses and -wharves; for the North River is the channel of commerce and the medium -of trade with the country round about. To the south the wall has been -entirely demolished, its site being occupied by a boulevard, onto which -faces a line of handsome modern residences--for as the North River is -for trade, so the South is for pleasure--and this boulevard has been -carried across the stream and on beyond the old limits of the city, and -runs for a mile or farther on the right bank of the reunited Krath, -forming a delightful and well-shaded promenade where the citizens are -accustomed to take their various forms of exercise. - -Opposite to it, on the left bank, lies the park attached to the Palace. -That building itself, dating from 1820 and regrettably typical of the -style of its period, faces the river on the left bank just where the -stream takes a broad sweep to the south, giving a rounded margin to the -King's pleasure-grounds. Below the Palace there soon comes open country -on both banks. The boulevard merges in the main post-road to Volseni and -to the mountains which form the eastern frontier of the kingdom. At this -date, and for a considerable number of years afterwards, the only -railway line in Kravonia did not follow the course of the Krath (which -itself afforded facilities for traffic and intercourse), but ran down -from the north, having its terminus on the left bank of the North River, -whence a carriage-bridge gave access to the city. - -To vote money is one thing, to raise it another, and to spend it on the -designated objects a third. Not a stone nor a sod of the new forts was -yet in place, and Slavna's solitary defence was the ancient castle which -stood on the left bank of the river just at the point of bisection, -facing the casino and botanical gardens on the opposite bank. -Suleiman's Tower, a relic of Turkish rule, is built on a simple plan--a -square curtain, with a bastion at each corner, encloses a massive -circular tower. The gate faces the North River, and a bridge, which -admits of being raised and lowered, connects this outwork with the north -wall of the city, which at this point is in good preservation. The fort -is roomy; two or three hundred men could find quarters there; and -although it is, under modern conditions, of little use against an enemy -from without, it occupies a position of considerable strength with -regard to the city itself. It formed at this time the headquarters and -residence of the Commandant of the garrison, a post held by the heir to -the throne, the Prince of Slavna. - -In spite of the flatness of the surrounding country, the appearance of -Slavna is not unpicturesque. Time and the hand of man (the people are a -color-loving race) have given many tints, soft and bright, to the roofs, -gables, and walls of the old quarter in the north town, over which -Suleiman's Tower broods with an antique impressiveness. Behind the -pleasant residences which border on the southern boulevard lie handsome -streets of commercial buildings and shops, these last again glowing with -diversified and gaudy colors. In the centre of the city, where, but for -its bisection, we may imagine the Krath would have run, a pretty little -canal has been made by abstracting water from the river and conducting -it through the streets. On either side of this stream a broad road runs. -Almost exactly midway through the city the roads broaden and open into -the spacious Square of St. Michael, containing the cathedral, the fine -old city hall, several good town-houses dating two or three hundred -years back, barracks, and the modern but not unsightly Government -offices. Through this square and the streets leading to it from west -and east there now runs an excellent service of electric cars; but at -the date with which we are concerned a crazy fiacre or a crazier omnibus -was the only public means of conveyance. Not a few good private -equipages were, however, to be seen, for the Kravonians have been from -of old lovers of horses. The city has a population bordering on a -hundred thousand, and, besides being the principal depot and centre of -distribution for a rich pastoral and agricultural country, it transacts -a respectable export trade in hides and timber. It was possible for a -careful man to grow rich in Slavna, even though he were not a politician -nor a Government official. - -Two or three years earlier, an enterprising Frenchman of the name of -Rousseau had determined to provide Slavna with a first-rate modern hotel -and _café_. Nothing could have consorted better with the views of King -Alexis Stefanovitch, and Monsieur Rousseau obtained, on very favorable -terms, a large site at the southeast end of the city, just where the -North and South rivers reunite. Here he built his hostelry and named it -_pietatis causâ_, the Hôtel de Paris. A fine terrace ran along the front -of the house, abutting on the boulevard and affording a pleasant view of -the royal park and the Palace in the distance on the opposite bank. - -On this terrace, it being a fine October morning, sat Sophy, drinking a -cup of chocolate. - -The scene before her, if not quite living up to the name of the hotel, -was yet animated enough. A score of handsome carriages drove by, some -containing gayly dressed ladies, some officers in smart uniforms. Other -officers rode or walked by; civil functionaries, journalists, and a -straggling line of onlookers swelled the stream which set towards the -Palace. Awaking from a reverie to mark the unwonted stir, Sophy saw the -leaders of the informal procession crossing the ornamental iron bridge -which spanned the Krath, a quarter of a mile from where she sat, and -gave access to the King's demesne on the left bank. - -"Right bank--left bank! It sounds like home!" she thought to herself, -smiling perhaps rather bitterly. "Home!" Her home now was a single room -over a goldsmith's shop, whither she had removed to relieve Marie -Zerkovitch from a hospitality too burdensome, as Sophy feared, for her -existing resources to sustain. - -The reverie bore breaking; it had been none too pleasant; in it sad -memories disputed place with present difficulties. Some third or so -remained of Lady Meg's hundred-pound note. Necessity had forced a use of -the money at any cost to pride. When all was gone, Sophy would have to -depend on what is so often a last and so often a vain refuge--the -teaching of French; it was the only subject which she could claim to -teach. Verily, it was a poor prospect; it was better to look at the -officers and the ladies than to think of it--ay, better than to think of -Casimir and of what lay in the past. With her strong will she strove to -steel herself alike against recollection and against apprehension. - -The _café_ was nearly deserted; the hour was too early for the citizens, -and Sophy's own chocolate had been merely an excuse to sit down. Yet -presently a young officer in a hussar uniform stopped his horse opposite -the door, and, giving over the reins to an orderly who attended him, -nimbly dismounted. Tall and fair, with a pleasant, open face, he wore -his finery with a dashing air, and caressed a delicate, upturned -mustache as he glanced round, choosing his seat. The next moment he -advanced towards Sophy; giving her a polite salute, he indicated the -little table next to hers. - -"Mademoiselle permits?" he asked. "She has, I fear, forgotten, but I -have the honor to be an acquaintance of hers." - -"I remember," smiled Sophy. "Captain Markart? We met at Madame -Zerkovitch's." - -"Oh, that's pleasant of you!" he cried. "I hate being clean forgotten. -But I fear you remember me only because I sang so badly!" - -"I remember best that you said you wanted to go and help France, but -your General wouldn't let you." - -"Ah, I know why you remember that--you especially! Forgive me--our -friend Marie Zerkovitch told me." He turned away for a moment to give an -order to the waiter. - -"What's going on to-day?" asked Sophy. "Where's everybody going?" - -"Why, you are a stranger, mademoiselle!" he laughed. "It's the King's -name-day, and we all go and congratulate him." - -"Is that it? Are you going?" - -"Certainly; in attendance on my General--General Stenovics. My lodgings -are near here, his house at the other end of the boulevard, so he gave -me leave to meet him here. I thought I would come early and fortify -myself a little for the ordeal. To mademoiselle's good health!" He -looked at her with openly admiring eyes, to which tribute Sophy accorded -a lazy, unembarrassed smile. She leaned her chin on her hand, turning -her right cheek towards him. Sophy was never disdainful, never -neglectful; her pose now was good. - -"What sort of a man is the King?" she asked. - -"The King is most emphatically a very good sort of fellow--a very good -old fellow. I only wish his son was like him! The Prince is a Tartar. -Has he gone by yet?" - -"I don't think so. I suppose he'd have an escort, wouldn't he? I don't -know him by sight yet. Does everybody call the King a good fellow?" - -"Some people are so extremely righteous!" pleaded Markart, ruefully. -"And, anyhow, he has reformed now." - -"Because he's old?" - -"Fifty-nine! Is that so very old? No; I rather attribute it--you're -discreet, I hope? I'm putting my fortunes in your hands--to Madame la -Comtesse." - -"The Countess Ellenburg? Marie has told me something about her." - -"Ah! Madame Zerkovitch is a friend of hers?" - -"Not intimate, I think. And is the Countess oppressively respectable, -Captain Markart?" - -"Women in her position always are," said the Captain, with an affected -sigh: his round, chubby face was wrinkled with merriment. "You see, a -morganatic marriage isn't such a well-established institution here as in -some other countries. Oh, it's legal enough, no doubt, if it's agreed to -on that basis. But the Stefanovitches have in the past often made -non-royal marriages--with their own subjects generally. Well, there was -nobody else for them to marry! Alexis got promotion in his first -marriage--an Italian Bourbon, which is always respectable, if not very -brilliant. That gave us a position, and it couldn't be thrown away. So -the second marriage had to be morganatic. Only--well, women are -ambitious, and she has a young son who bears the King's name--a boy -twelve years old." - -He looked reflectively at his polished boots. Sophy sat in thoughtful -silence. A jingle of swords and the clatter of hoofs roused them. A -troop of soldiers rode by. Their uniform was the same smart tunic of -light blue, with black facings, as adorned Captain Markart's shapely -person. - -"Ah, here's the Prince!" said Markart, rising briskly to his feet. Sophy -followed his example, though more in curiosity than respect. - -The young man at the head of the troop returned Markart's salute, but -was apparently unconscious of the individual from whom it proceeded. He -rode by without turning his head or giving a glance in the direction of -the _café_ terrace. Sophy saw a refined profile, with a straight nose, -rather short, and a pale cheek: there was little trace of the Bourbon -side of the pedigree. - -"He's on his promotion, too," continued the loquacious and irreverent -Captain, as he resumed his seat. "They want a big fish for -him--something German, with a resounding name. Poor fellow!" - -"Well, it's his duty," said Sophy. - -"Somebody who'll keep the Countess in order, eh?" smiled Markart, -twirling his mustache. "That's about the size of it, I expect, though -naturally the General doesn't show me his hand. I only tell you common -gossip." - -"I think you hardly do yourself justice. You've been very interesting, -Captain Markart." - -"I tell you what," he said, with an engaging candor, "I believe that -somehow the General makes me chatter just to the extent he wants me to, -and then stops me. I don't know how he does it; it's quite unconscious -on my part. I seem to say just what I like!" - -They laughed together over this puzzle. "You mean General Stenovics?" -asked Sophy. - -"Yes, General Stenovics. Ah, here he is!" He sprang up again and made a -low bow to Sophy. "Au revoir, mademoiselle. A thousand thanks!" - -He saluted her and hurried to the side of the pavement. General -Stenovics rode up, with two orderlies behind him. Saluting again, -Markart mounted his horse. The General brought his to a stand and waited -the necessary moment or two with a good-humored smile. His eye wandered -from the young officer to the presumable cause of his lack of vigilance. -Sophy felt the glance rest on her face. In her turn she saw a stout, -stumpy figure, clad in a rather ugly dark-green uniform, and a heavy, -olive-tinted face adorned with a black mustache and a stubbly gray -beard. General Stenovics, President of the Council of Ministers, was not -an imposing personage to the outward view. But Sophy returned the regard -of his prominent pale-blue eyes (which sorted oddly with the complexion -of his face) with vivid attention. The General rode on, Markart -following, but turning in his saddle to salute once more and to wave his -hand in friendly farewell. - -For the first time since her arrival in Slavna, Sophy was conscious of a -stir of excitement. Life had been dull and heavy; the mind had enjoyed -little food save the diet of sad memories. To-day she seemed to be -brought into sight of living interests again. They were far off, but -they were there; Markart's talk had made a link between them and her. -She sat on for a long while, watching the junction of the streams and -the broad current which flowed onward past the Palace, on its long -journey to the sea. Then she rose with a sigh; the time drew near for a -French lesson. Marie Zerkovitch had already got her two pupils. - -When General Stenovics had ridden three or four hundred yards, he -beckoned his aide-de-camp and secretary--for Markart's functions were -both military and civil--to his side. - -"We're last of all, I suppose?" he asked. - -"Pretty nearly, sir." - -"That must be his Royal Highness just crossing the bridge?" - -"Yes, sir, that's his escort." - -"Ah, well, we shall just do it! And who, pray"--the General turned round -to his companion--"is that remarkable-looking young woman you've managed -to pick up?" - -Markart told what he knew of Mademoiselle de Gruche; it was not much. - -"A friend of the Zerkovitches? That's good. A nice fellow, -Zerkovitch--and his wife's quite charming. And your friend--?" - -"I can hardly call her that, General." - -"Tut, tut! You're irresistible, I know. Your friend--what did you tell -her?" - -"Nothing, on my honor." The young man colored and looked a trifle -alarmed. But Stenovics's manner was one of friendly amusement. - -"For an example of your 'nothing,'" he went on, "you told her that the -King was an amiable man?" - -"Oh, possibly, General." - -"That the Countess was a little--just a little--too scrupulous?" - -"It was nothing, surely, to say that?" - -"That we all wanted the Prince to marry?" - -"I made only the most general reference to that, sir." - -"That--" he looked harder at his young friend--"the Prince is not -popular with the army?" - -"On my honor, no!" - -"Think, think, Markart." - -Markart searched his memory; under interrogation it accused him; his -face grew rueful. - -"I did wish he was more like his Majesty. I--I did say he was a Tartar." - -Stenovics chuckled in apparent satisfaction at his own perspicacity. But -his only comment was: "Then your remarkably handsome young friend knows -something about us already. You're an admirable cicerone to a stranger, -Markart." - -"I hope you're not annoyed, sir. I--I didn't tell any secrets?" - -"Certainly not, Markart. Three bits of gossip and one lie don't make up -a secret between them. Come, we must get along." - -Markart's face cleared; but he observed that the General did not tell -him which was the lie. - -This day Sophy began the diary; the first entry is dated that afternoon. -Her prescience--or presentiment--was not at fault. From to-day events -moved fast, and she was strangely caught up in the revolutions of the -wheel. - - - - -II - -AT THE GOLDEN LION - - -It was the evening of the King's name-day. There was a banquet at the -Palace, and the lights in its windows twinkled in sympathetic response -to the illuminations which blazed on the public buildings and principal -residences of Slavna. Everywhere feasting and revelry filled the night. -The restaurant of the Hôtel de Paris was crowded, every seat on its -terrace occupied; the old Inn of the Golden Lion, opposite the barracks -in the Square of St. Michael, a favorite resort of the officers of the -garrison, did a trade no less good; humbler hostelries were full of -private soldiers, and the streets themselves of revellers male and -female, military and civil, honest and dishonest, drunk and sober. -Slavna had given itself up to a frolic; for, first, a _fête_ is a -_fête_, no matter what its origin; secondly, King Alexis was the most -popular man in his dominions, though he never did a decent day's work -for them; lastly, there is often no better way to show how much you hate -one man than by making a disproportionate fuss about another. It was -well understood that by thus honoring King Alexis, its Monarch, by thus -vociferously and untiringly wishing him the longest of reigns, Slavna -was giving a stinging back-hander to Prince Sergius, its titular Prince -and Commandant. You would see the difference when the Prince's day came -round! When General Stenovics pointed to the lights gleaming across the -Krath from the Palace windows and congratulated his Royal Highness on -the splendid popularity of the reigning House, the Prince's smile may -well have been ironical. - -"I shall go and see all this merriment for myself at close quarters -presently, General," said he. "I think the Commandant had best return to -the city to-night as early as the King will allow." - -"An admirable devotion to duty, sir," answered the General gravely, and -without any effort to dissuade the zealous Prince. - -But even in this gay city there was one spot of gloom, one place where -sullen rancor had not been ousted by malicious merriment. The first -company of his Majesty's Guards was confined to its barracks in the -Square of St. Michael by order of the Commandant of Slavna; this by -reason of high military misdemeanors--slackness when on duty, rioting -and drunkenness when on leave; nor were the officers any better than the -men. "You are men of war in the streets, men of peace in the ranks," -said the Commandant to them that morning in issuing his decree. "You -shall have a quiet evening to think over your short-comings." The order -was reported to the King; he sighed, smiled, shook his head, said that, -after all, discipline must be vindicated, and looked at his son with -mingled admiration and pity. Such a faculty for making himself, other -people, and things in general uncomfortable! But, of course, discipline! -The Commandant looked stern, and his father ventured on no opposition or -appeal. General Stenovics offered no remonstrance either, although he -had good friends in the offending company. "He must do as he likes--so -long as he's Commandant," he said to Markart. - -"May I go and see them and cheer them up a bit, sir, instead of coming -with you to the Palace?" asked that good-natured young man. - -"If his Royal Highness gives you leave, certainly," agreed the General. - -The Commandant liked Markart. "Yes--and tell them what fools they are," -he said, with a smile. - -Markart found the imprisoned officers at wine after their dinner; the -men had resigned themselves to fate and gone to bed. Markart delivered -his message with his usual urbane simplicity. Lieutenant Rastatz giggled -uneasily--he had a high falsetto laugh. Lieutenant Sterkoff frowned -peevishly. Captain Mistitch rapped out a vicious oath and brought his -great fist down on the table. "The evening isn't finished yet," he said. -"But for this cursed fellow I should have been dining with Vera at the -Hôtel de Paris to-night!" - -Whereupon proper condolences were offered to their Captain by his -subalterns, who, in fact, held him in no small degree of fear. He was a -huge fellow, six feet three and broad as a door; a great bruiser and a -duellist of fame; his nickname was Hercules. His florid face was flushed -now with hot anger, and he drank his wine in big gulps. - -"How long are we to stand it?" he growled. "Are we school-girls?" - -"Come, come, it's only for one evening," pleaded Markart. "One quiet -evening won't hurt even Captain Hercules!" - -The subalterns backed him with a laugh, but Mistitch would have none of -it. He sat glowering and drinking still, not to be soothed and decidedly -dangerous. From across the square came the sound of music and singing -from the Golden Lion. Again Mistitch banged the table. - -"Listen there!" he said. "That's pleasant hearing while we're shut up -like rats in a trap--and all Slavna laughing at us!" - -Markart shrugged his shoulders and smoked in silence; to argue with the -man was to court a quarrel; he began to repent of his well-meant visit. -Mistitch drained his glass. - -"But some of us have a bit of spirit left, and so Master Sergius shall -see," he went on. He put out a great hand on either side and caught -Sterkoff and Rastatz by their wrists. "We're the fellows to show him!" -he cried. - -Sterkoff seemed no bad choice for such an enterprise--a wiry, active -fellow, with a determined, if disagreeable, face, and a nasty squint in -his right eye. But Rastatz, with his slim figure, weak mouth, and high -laugh, promised no great help; yet in him fear of Mistitch might -overcome all other fear. - -"Yes, we three'll show him! And now"--he rose to his feet, dragging the -pair up with him--"for a song and a bottle at the Golden Lion!" - -Rastatz gasped, even Sterkoff started. Markart laughed: it could be -nothing more than a mad joke. Cashiering was the least punishment which -would await the act. - -"Yes, we three together!" He released them for a moment and caught up -his sword and cap. Then he seized Rastatz's wrist again and squeezed it -savagely. "Come out of your trap with me, you rat!" he growled, in -savage amusement at the young man's frightened face. - -Sterkoff gained courage. "I'm with you, Hercules!" he cried. "I'm for -to-night--the devil take to-morrow morning!" - -"You're all drunk," said Markart, in despairing resignation. - -"We'll be drunker before the night's out," snarled Mistitch. "And if I -meet that fellow when I'm drunk, God help him!" He laughed loudly. "Then -there might be a chance for young Alexis, after all!" - -The words alarmed Markart. Young Count Alexis was the King's son by -Countess Ellenburg. A chance for young Alexis! - -"For Heaven's sake, go to bed!" he implored. - -Mistitch turned on him. "I don't want to quarrel with anybody in Slavna -to-night, unless I meet one man. But you can't stop me, Markart, and -you'll only do mischief by trying. Now, my boys!" - -They were with him--Sterkoff with a gleam in his squinting eye, Rastatz -with a forced, uneasy giggle and shaking knees. Mistitch clapped them on -the back. - -"Another bottle apiece and we'll all be heroes!" he cried. "Markart, you -go home to your mamma!" - -Though given in no friendly way, this advice was wise beneath its -metaphor. But Markart did not at once obey it. He had no more authority -than power to interfere; Mistitch was his senior officer, and he had no -special orders to act. But he followed the three in a fascinated -interest, and with the hope that a very brief proof of his freedom would -content the Captain. Out from the barracks the three marched. The sentry -at the gate presented arms, but tried to bar their progress. With a -guffaw and a mighty push Mistitch sent him sprawling. "The Commandant -wants us, you fool!" he cried--and the three were in the square. - -"What the devil will come of this business?" thought Markart, as he -followed them over the little bridge which spanned the canal, and thence -to the door of the Golden Lion. Behind them still he passed the seats on -the pavement and entered the great saloon. As Mistitch and his -companions came in, three-fourths of the company sprang to their feet -and returned the salute of the new-comers; so strongly military in -composition was the company--officers on one side of a six-feet-high -glass screen which cut the room in two, sergeants and their inferiors on -the other. A moment's silence succeeded the salute. Then a young officer -cried: "The King has interfered?" It did not occur to anybody that the -Commandant might have changed his mind and reversed his decree; for good -or evil, they knew him too well to think of that. - -"The King interfered?" Mistitch echoed, in his sonorous, rolling, thick -voice. "No; we've interfered ourselves, and walked out! Does any one -object?" - -He glared a challenge round. There were officers present of superior -rank--they drank their beer or wine discreetly. The juniors broke into a -ringing cheer; it was taken up and echoed back from behind the glass -screen, to which a hundred faces were in an instant glued, over which, -here and there, the head of some soldier more than common tall suddenly -projected. - -"A table here!" cried Mistitch. "And champagne! Quick! Sit down, my -boys!" - -A strange silence followed the impulsive cheers. Men were thinking. -Cheers first, thoughts afterwards, was the order in Slavna as in many -other cities. Now they recognized the nature of this thing, the fateful -change from sullen obedience to open defiance. Was it only a drunken -frolic--or, besides that, was it a summons to each man to choose his -side? Choosing his side might well mean staking his life. - -A girl in a low-necked dress and short petticoats began a song from a -raised platform at the end of the room. She was popular, and the song a -favorite. Nobody seemed to listen; when she ended, nobody applauded. -Mistitch had been whispering with Sterkoff, Rastatz sitting silent, -tugging his slender, fair mustache. But none of the three had omitted to -pay their duty to the bottle; even Rastatz's chalky face bore a patch of -red on either cheek. Mistitch rose from his chair, glass in hand. - -"Long life to the King!" he shouted. "That's loyal, isn't it? Ay, -immortal life!" - -The cheers broke out again, mingled with laughter. A voice cried: "Hard -on his heir, Captain Hercules!" - -"Ay!" Mistitch roared back. "Hard as he is on us, my friend!" - -Another burst of cheering--and again that conscience-smitten silence. - -Markart had found a seat, near the door and a good way from the -redoubtable Mistitch and his companions. He looked at his watch--it was -nearly ten; in half an hour General Stenovics would be leaving the -Palace, and it was meet that he should know of all this as soon as -possible. Markart made up his mind that he would slip away soon; but -still the interest of the scene, the fascination of this prelude--such -it seemed to him--held his steps bound. - -Suddenly a young man of aristocratic appearance rose from a table at the -end of the room, where he had been seated in company with a pretty and -smartly dressed girl. A graceful gesture excused him to his fair -companion, and he threaded his way deftly between the jostling tables to -where Mistitch sat. He wore Court dress and a decoration. Markart -recognized in the young man Baron von Hollbrandt, junior Secretary of -the German Legation in Slavna. - -Hollbrandt bowed to Mistitch, with whom he was acquainted, then bent -over the giant's burly back and whispered in his ear. - -"Take a friend's advice, Captain," he said. "I've been at the Palace, -and I know the Prince had permission to withdraw at half-past nine. He -was to return to Slavna then--to duty. Come, go back. You've had your -spree." - -"By the Lord, I'm obliged to you!" cried Mistitch. "Lads, we're obliged -to Baron von Hollbrandt! Could you tell me the street he means to come -by? Because"--he rose to his feet again--"we'll go and meet him!" - -Half the hall heard him, and the speech was soon passed on to any out of -hearing. A sparse cheer sputtered here and there, but most were silent. -Rastatz gasped again, while Sterkoff frowned and squinted villanously. -Hollbrandt whispered once more, then stood erect, shrugged his -shoulders, bowed, and walked back to his pretty friend. He sat down and -squeezed her hand in apology; the pair broke into laughter a moment -later. Baron von Hollbrandt felt that he at least had done his duty. - -The three had drunk and drunk; Rastatz was silly, Sterkoff vicious, the -giant Mistitch jovially and cruelly reckless, exalted not only by liquor -but with the sense of the part he played. Suddenly from behind the glass -screen rose a mighty roar: - -"Long live Mistitch! Down with tyrants! Long live Captain Hercules!" - -It was fuel to the flames. Mistitch drained his glass and hurled it on -the floor. - -"Well, who follows me?" he cried. - -Half the men started to their feet; the other half pulled them down. -Contending currents of feeling ran through the crowd; a man was reckless -this moment, timid the next; to one his neighbor gave warning, to -another instigation. They seemed poised on the point of a great -decision. Yet what was it they were deciding? They could not tell. - -Markart suddenly forgot his caution. He rushed to Mistitch, with his -hands out and "For God's sake!" loud on his lips. - -"You!" cried Mistitch. "By Heaven! what else does your General want? -What else does Matthias Stenovics want? Tell me that!" - -A silence followed--of dread suspense. Men looked at one another in fear -and doubt. Was that true which Mistitch said? They felt as ordinary men -feel when the edge of the curtain is lifted from before high schemes or -on intrigues of the great. - -"If I should meet the Prince to-night, wouldn't there be news for -Stenovics?" cried Mistitch, with a roar of laughter. - -If he should meet the Prince! The men at the tables could not make up -their minds to that. Mistitch they admired and feared, but they feared -the proud Prince, too; they had many of them felt the weight of his -anger. Those who had stood up sank back in their places. One pot-bellied -fellow raised a shout of hysterical laughter round him by rubbing his -fat face with a napkin and calling out: "I should like just one minute -to think about that meeting, Captain Hercules!" - -Markart had shrunk back, but Mistitch hurled a taunt at him and at all -the throng. - -"You're curs, one and all! But I'll put a heart in you yet! And now"--he -burst into a new guffaw--"my young friends and I are going for a walk. -What, aren't the streets of Slavna free to gentlemen? My friends and I -are going for a walk. If we meet anybody on the pavement--well, he must -take to the road. We're going for a walk." - -Amid a dead silence he went out, his two henchmen after him. He and -Sterkoff walked firm and true--Rastatz lurched in his gait. A thousand -eyes followed their exit, and from five hundred throats went up a long -sigh of relief that they were gone. But what had they gone to do? The -company decided that it was just as well for them, whether collectively -or as individuals, not to know too much about that. Let it be hoped that -the cool air outside would have a sobering effect and send them home to -bed! Yet from behind the glass screen there soon arose again a busy -murmur of voices, like the hum of a beehive threatened with danger. - -"A diplomatic career is really full of interest, ma chère," observed -Baron von Hollbrandt to his fair companion. "It would be difficult to -see anything so dramatic in Berlin!" - -His friend's pretty blue eyes lit up with an eager intensity as she took -the cigarette from between her lips. Her voice was full of joyful -excitement: - -"Yes, it's to death between that big Mistitch and the Prince--the blood -of one or both of them, you'll see!" - -"You are too deliciously Kravonian," said Hollbrandt, with a laugh. - -Outside, big Mistitch had crossed the canal and come to the corner where -the Street of the Fountain opens on to St. Michael's Square. "What say -you to a call at the Hôtel de Paris, lads?" he said. - -"Hist!" Sterkoff whispered. "Do you hear that step--coming up the street -there?" - -The illuminations burned still in the Square and sent a path of light -down the narrow street. The three stopped and turned their heads. -Sterkoff pointed. Mistitch looked--and smacked his ponderous thigh. - - - - -III - -THE VIRGIN WITH THE LAMP - - -Whatever Marie Zerkovitch's feelings might be, Fate had its hand on her -and turned her to its uses. It was she who had directed Sophy's steps to -the old house ten doors down the Street of the Fountain from St. -Michael's Square. It was no more than half a mile from her own villa on -the south boulevard (from which the Street ran to the Square), and she -had long known the decent old couple--German Jews--who lived and carried -on their trade in the house over whose front hung the sign of the Silver -Cock. The face of the building was covered with carved timbers of great -age; the door of the shop stood far back within a black and ancient -porch. Behind the shop were a couple of rooms where Meyerstein and his -wife lived; above it one large room, with a window which jutted far out -over the narrow street. In this room, which was reached by a separate -door in the left side of the porch and a crazy flight of a dozen winding -stairs, lived Sophy, and thence she sallied out daily to give her -lessons to her two pupils. - -By the window she sat on the night of the King's name-day, on a low -chair. The heavy figure of a girl carrying a lamp--a specimen of her -landlord's superfluous stock--stood unemployed on the window-sill. The -room was dark, for the path of light from the illuminations, which made -the roadway below white, threw hardly a gleam on to its sombre walls; -but Sophy had no need of a lamp and every need to save her money. She -sat in the gloom, busy in thought, the fresh evening air breathing soft -and cool on her brow from the open window. - -Swift to build on slenderest foundations, avid to pile imagination on -imagination till the unsubstantial structure reached the skies, her mind -was at work to-night. The life and stir, the heat and tumult, of the -city, were fuel to her dreams. Chances and happenings were all about -her; they seemed to lie, like the water for Tantalus, just beyond the -reach of her finger-tips; her eyes pierced to the vision of them through -the dusky blackness of the ancient room. In response to the confused yet -clamorous cry of the life around her, her spirit awoke. Dead were the -dear dead; but Sophy was alive. But to be a starving French mistress at -Slavna--was that a chance? Yes, a better than being cook-maid at -Morpingham; and even in the kitchen at Morpingham Fortune had found her -and played with her awhile. For such frolics and such favor, however -fickle, however hazardous, Sophy Grouch of Morpingham was ever ready. -Dunstanbury had come to Morpingham--and Lady Meg. Paris had brought the -sweet hours and the gracious memory of Casimir de Savres. Should Slavna -lag behind? Who would come now? Ever the highest for Sophy Grouch! The -vision of the royal escort and its pale young leader flashed in the -darkness before her eagerly attendant eyes. - -Suddenly she raised her head. There was a wild, quick volley of -cheering; it came from the Golden Lion, whose lights across the Square a -sideways craning of her neck enabled her to see. Then there was silence -for minutes. Again the sound broke forth, and with it confused shoutings -of a name she could not make out. Yes--what was it? Mistitch--Mistitch! -That was her first hearing of the name. - -Silence fell again, and she sank back into her chair. The lights, the -stir, the revelry were not for her, nor the cheers nor the shouts. A -moment of reaction and lassitude came on her, a moment when the present, -the actual, lapped her round with its dim, muddy flood of vulgar -necessity and sordid needs. With a sob she bowed her head to meet her -hands--a sob that moaned a famine of life, of light, of love. "Go back -to your scullery, Sophy Grouch!" What voice had said that? She sprang to -her feet with fists clinched, and whispered to the darkness: "No!" - -In the street below, Mistitch slapped his thigh. - -Sophy pushed her hair back from her heated forehead and looked out of -the window. To the right, some twenty yards away and just at the end of -the street, she saw the figures of three men. In the middle was one who -bulked like a young Falstaff--Falstaff with his paunch not grown; he was -flanked by two lean fellows who looked small beside him. She could not -see the faces plainly, since the light from the Square was behind them. -They seemed to be standing there and looking past the sign of the Silver -Cock along the street. - -A measured, military footfall sounded on her left. Turning her head, she -saw a young man walking with head bent down and arms behind him. The -line of light struck full on him, he was plain to see as by broadest -day. He wore a costume strange to her eyes--a black sheepskin cap, a -sheepskin tunic, leather breeches, and high, unpolished boots--a rough, -plain dress; yet a broad, red ribbon crossed it, and a star glittered on -the breast; the only weapon was a short, curved scimitar. It was the -ancient costume of the Bailiff of Volseni, the head of that clan of -shepherds who pastured their flocks on the uplands. The Prince of Slavna -held the venerable office, and had been to Court in the dress -appropriate to it. He had refused to use his carriage, sending his -aides-de-camp home in it, and walked now through the streets of the city -which he had in charge. It was constantly his habit thus to walk; his -friends praised his vigilance; his foes reviled his prowling, spying -tricks; of neither blame nor praise did he take heed. - -Sophy did not know the dress, but the face she knew; it had been but -lately before her dreaming eyes; she had seen it in the flesh that -morning from the terrace of the Hôtel de Paris. - -The three came on from her right, one of the lean men hanging back, -lurking a little behind. They were under her window now. The Prince was -but a few yards away. Suddenly he looked up with a start--he had become -aware of their approach. But before he saw them the three had melted to -one. With a shrill cry of consternation--of uneasy courage oozing -out--Rastatz turned and fled back to the Square, heading at his top -speed for the Golden Lion. In the end he was unequal to the encounter. -Sterkoff, too, disappeared; but Sophy knew the meaning of that; he had -slipped into the shelter of the porch. Her faculties were alert now; she -would not forget where Sterkoff was! Mistitch stood alone in the centre -of the narrow street, his huge frame barely leaving room for a man to -pass on either side. - -For a moment the Prince stood still, looking at the giant. Incredulity -had seemed to show first in his eyes; it changed now to a cold anger as -he recognized the Captain. He stepped briskly forward, and Sophy heard -his clear, incisive tones cut the air: - -"What extraordinary emergency has compelled you to disobey my orders, -Captain Mistitch?" - -"I wanted a breath of fresh air," Mistitch answered, in an easy, -insolent tone. - -The Prince looked again; he seemed even more disgusted than angry now. -He thought Mistitch drunk--more drunk than in truth he was. - -"Return to barracks at once and report yourself under stringent arrest. -I will deal with you to-morrow." - -"And not to-night, Sergius Stefanovitch?" At least he was being as good -as his word, he was acting up to the vaunts he had thrown out so boldly -in the great hall of the Golden Lion. - -"To-morrow we shall both be cooler." He was almost up to Mistitch now. -"Stand out of my way, sir." - -Mistitch did not budge. "There's room for you to pass by," he said. "I -won't hurt you. But the middle of the road belongs to me to-night." - -His voice seemed to grow clearer with every word; the critical encounter -was sobering him. Yet with sobriety came no diminution of defiance. -Doubtless he saw that he was in for the worst now, that forward was the -word, and retreat impossible. Probably from this moment he did not -intend the Prince to pass alive. Well, what he intended was the wish of -many; he would not lack shelter, friends, or partisans if he dared the -desperate venture. Be it said for him that there were few things he did -not dare. He dared now, growing sober, to stand by what the fumes of -wine had fired his tongue to. - -For a moment after the big man's taunt the Prince stood motionless. Then -he drew his scimitar. It looked a poor, weak weapon against the sword -which sprang in answer from Mistitch's scabbard. - -"A duel between gentlemen!" the Captain cried. - -The Prince gave a short laugh. "You shall have no such plea at the -court-martial," he said. "Gentlemen don't waylay one another in the -streets. Stand aside!" - -Mistitch laughed, and in an instant the Prince sprang at him. Sophy -heard the blades meet. Strong as death was the fascination for her -eyes--ay, for her ears, too, for she heard the quick-moving feet and the -quicker breathing of a mortal combat. But she would not look--she tried -not even to listen. Her eyes were for a man she could not see, her ears -for a man she could not hear. She remembered the lean fellow hidden in -the porch, straight under her window. She dared not call to warn the -Prince of him; a turn of the head, a moment of inattention, would cost -either combatant his life. She took the man in the porch for her own -adversary, his undoing for her share in the fight. - -Very cautiously, making no sound, she took the heavy lamp--the massive -bronze figure of the girl--raised it painfully in both her hands, and -poised it half-way over the window-sill. Then she turned her eyes down -again to watch the mouth of the porch. Her rat was in that hole! Yet -suddenly the Prince came into her view; he circled half-way round -Mistitch, then sank on one knee; she heard him guard the Captain's -lunges with lightning-quick movements of his nimble scimitar. He was -trying the old trick they had practised for hundreds of years at -Volseni--to follow his parry with an upward-ripping stroke under the -adversary's sword, to strike the inner side of his forearm and cut the -tendons of the wrist. This trick big Captain Mistitch, a man of the -plains, did not know. - -A jangle--a slither--a bellow of pain, of rage! The Prince had made his -stroke, the hill-men of Volseni were justified of their pupil. -Mistitch's big sword clattered on the flags. Facing his enemy, with his -back to the porch, the Prince crouched motionless on his knee; but it -was death to Mistitch to try to reach the sword with his unmaimed hand. - -It was Sophy's minute; the message that it had come ran fierce through -all her veins. Straining to the weight, she raised the figure in her -hands and leaned out of the window. Yes, a lean hand with a long knife, -a narrow head, a spare, long back, crept out of the darkness of the -porch--crept silently. The body drew itself together for a fatal spring -on the unconscious Prince, for a fatal thrust. It would be death--and to -Mistitch salvation torn from the jaws of ruin. - -"Surrender yourself, Captain Mistitch," said the Prince. - -Mistitch's eyes went by his conqueror and saw a shadow on the path -beside the porch. - -"I surrender, sir," he said. - -"Then walk before me to the barracks." Mistitch did not turn. "At once, -sir!" - -"Now!" Mistitch roared. - -The crouching figure sprang--and with a hideous cry fell stricken on the -flags. Just below the neck, full on the spine, had crashed the Virgin -with the lamp. Sterkoff lay very still, save that his fingers scratched -the flags. Turning, the Prince saw a bronze figure at his feet, a bronze -figure holding a broken lamp. Looking up, he saw dimly a woman's white -face at a window. - -Then the street was on a sudden full of men. Rastatz had burst into the -Golden Lion, all undone--nerves, courage, almost senses gone. He could -stammer no more than: "They'll fight!" and could not say who. But he had -gone out with Mistitch--and whom had they gone to meet? - -A dozen officers were round him in an instant, crying: "Where? Where?" -He broke into frightened sobs, hiding his face in his hands. It was Max -von Hollbrandt who made him speak. Forgetting his pretty friend, he -sprang in among the officers, caught Rastatz by the throat, and put a -revolver to his head. "Where? In ten seconds--where?" Terror beat -terror. "The Street of the Fountain--by the Silver Cock!" the cur -stammered, and fell to his blubbering again. - -The dozen officers, and more, were across the Square almost before he -had finished; Max von Hollbrandt, with half the now lessened company in -the inn, was hot on their heels. - -For that night all was at an end. Sterkoff was picked up, unconscious -now. Sullen, but never cringing, Mistitch was marched off to the -guard-room and the surgeon's ministrations. Every soldier was ordered to -his quarters, the townsfolk slunk off to their homes. The street grew -empty, the glare of the illuminations was quenched. But of all this -Sophy saw nothing. She had sunk down in her chair by the window, and lay -there, save for her tumultuous breathing, still as death. - -The Commandant had no fear, and would have his way. He stood alone now -in the street, looking from the dark splash of Mistitch's blood to the -Virgin with her broken lamp, and up to the window of the Silver Cock, -whence had come salvation. - - - - -IV - -THE MESSAGE OF THE NIGHT - - -The last of the transparencies died out; the dim and infrequent -oil-lamps alone lit up the Street of the Fountain and St. Michael's -Square. They revelled still down at the Hôtel de Paris, whither Max von -Hollbrandt and a dozen others had hurried with the news of the evening's -great event. But here, on the borders of the old north quarter, all grew -still--the Golden Lion empty, the townsmen to their beds, the soldiers -to barracks, full of talk and fears and threats. Yet a light burned -still in the round room in the keep of Suleiman's Tower, and the -Commandant's servant still expected his royal master. Peter Vassip, a -sturdy son of Volseni, had no apprehensions--but he was very sleepy, and -he and the sentries were the only men awake. "One might as well be a -soldier at once!" he grumbled--for the men of the hills did not esteem -the Regular Army so high as it rated itself. - -The Commandant lingered in the Street of the Fountain. Sergius -Stefanovitch was half a Bourbon, but it was the intellectual half. He -had the strong, concentrated, rather narrow mind of a Bourbon of before -the family decadence; on it his training at Vienna had grafted a -military precision, perhaps a pedantry, and no little added scorn of -what men called liberty and citizens called civil rights. What rights -had a man against his country? His country was in his King--and to the -King the Army was his supreme instrument. So ran his public creed, his -statesman's instinct. But beside the Bourbon mother was the Kravonian -father, and behind him the long line of mingled and vacillating fortunes -which drew descent from Stefan, Lord of Praslok, and famous reiver of -lowland herds. In that stock the temperament was different: indolent to -excess sometimes, ardent to madness at others, moderate seldom. When the -blood ran hot, it ran a veritable fire in the veins. - -And for any young man the fight in the fantastically illuminated night, -the Virgin with the broken lamp, a near touch of the scythe of death, -and a girl's white face at the window? Behind the Commandant's stern -wrath--nay, beside--and soon before it--for the moment dazzling his -angry eyes--came the bright gleams of romance. - -He knew who lodged at the sign of the Silver Cock. Marie Zerkovitch was -his friend, Zerkovitch his zealous follower. The journalist was back now -from the battle-fields of France and was writing articles for _The -Patriot_, a leading paper of Slavna. He was deep in the Prince's -confidence, and his little house on the south boulevard often received -this distinguished guest. The Prince had been keen to hear from -Zerkovitch of the battles, from Marie of the life in Paris; with Marie's -tale came the name, and what she knew of the story, of Sophie de Gruche. -Yet always, in spite of her praises of her friend, Marie had avoided any -opportunity of presenting her to the Prince. Excuse on excuse she made, -for his curiosity ranged round Casimir de Savres's bereaved lover. "Oh, -I shall meet her some day all the same," he had said, laughing; and -Marie doubted whether her reluctance--a reluctance to herself -strange--had not missed its mark, inflaming an interest which it had -meant to balk. Why this strange reluctance? So far it was proved -baseless. His first encounter with the Lady of the Red Star--Casimir's -poetical sobriquet had passed Marie's lips--had been supremely -fortunate. - -From the splash of blood to the broken Virgin, from the broken Virgin to -the open window and the dark room behind, his restless glances sped. -Then came swift, impulsive decision. He caught up the bronze figure and -entered the porch. He knew Meyerstein's shop, and that from it no -staircase led to the upper floor. The other door was his mark, and he -knocked on it, raising first with a cautious touch, then more -resolutely, the old brass hand with hospitably beckoning finger which -served for knocker. Then he listened for a footstep on the stairs. If -she came not, the venturesome night went ungraced by its crowning -adventure. He must kiss the hand that saved him before he slept. - -The door opened softly. In the deep shadow of the porch, on the winding, -windowless staircase of the old house, it was pitch dark. He felt a hand -put in his and heard a low voice saying: "Come, Monseigneur." From first -to last, both in speech and in writing, she called him by that title and -by none other. Without a word he followed her, picking his steps, till -they reached her room. She led him to the chair by the window; the -darkness was somewhat less dense there. He stood by the chair. - -"The lamp's broken--and there's only one match in the box!" said Sophy, -with a low laugh. "Shall we use it now--or when you go, Monseigneur?" - -"Light it now. My memory, rather than my imagination!" - -She struck the match; her face came upon him white in the darkness, with -the mark on her cheek a dull red; but her eyes glittered. The match -flared and died down. - -"It is enough. I shall remember." - -"Did I kill him?" - -"I don't know whether he's killed--he's badly hurt. This lady here is -pretty heavy." - -"Give her to me. I'll put her in her place." She took the figure and set -it again on the window-sill. "And the big man who attacked you?" - -"Mistitch? He'll be shot." - -"Yes," she agreed with calm, unquestioning emphasis. - -"You know what you did to-night?" - -"I had the sense to think of the man in the porch." - -"You saved my life." - -Sophy gave a laugh of triumph. "What will Marie Zerkovitch say to that?" - -"She's my friend, too, and she's told me all about you. But she didn't -want us to meet." - -"She thinks I bring bad luck." - -"She'll have to renounce that heresy now." He felt for the chair and sat -down, Sophy leaning against the window-sill. - -"Why did they attack you?" - -He told her of the special grudge which Mistitch and his company had -against him, and added: "But they all hate me, except my own fellows -from Volseni. I have a hundred of them in Suleiman's Tower, and they're -stanch enough." - -"Why do they hate you?" - -"Oh, I'm their school-master--and a very strict one, I suppose. Or, if -you like, the pruning-knife--and that's not popular with the rotten -twigs." - -"There are many rotten twigs?" - -She heard his hands fall on the wooden arms of the chair and pictured -his look of despair. "All--almost all. It's not their fault. What can -you expect? They're encouraged to laziness and to riot. They have no -good rifles. The city is left defenceless. I have no big guns." He broke -suddenly into a low laugh. "There--that's what Zerkovitch calls my fixed -idea; he declares it's written on my heart--big guns!" - -"If you had them, you'd be--master?" - -"I could make some attempt at a defence anyhow; at least we could cover -a retreat to the hills, if war came." He paused. "And in peace--yes, I -should be master of Slavna. I'd bring men from Volseni to serve the -guns." His voice had grown vindictive. "Stenovics knows that, I think." -He roused himself again and spoke to her earnestly. "Listen. This fellow -Mistitch is a great hero with the soldiers and the mob. When I have him -shot, as I shall--not on my own account, I could have killed him -to-night, but for the sake of discipline--there will very likely be a -disturbance. What you did to-night will be all over the city by -to-morrow morning. If you see any signs of disturbance, if any people -gather round here, go to Zerkovitch's at once--or, if that's not -possible or safe, come to me in Suleiman's Tower, and I'll send for -Marie Zerkovitch too. Will you promise? You must run no risk." - -"I'll come if I'm afraid." - -"Or if you ought to be?" he insisted, laughing again. - -"Well, then--or if I ought to be," she promised, joining in his laugh. -"But the King--isn't he with you?" - -"My father likes me; we're good friends. But 'like father, unlike son' -they say of the Stefanovitches. I'm a martinet, they tell me; well, -he--isn't. Nero fiddled--you remember? The King goes fishing. He's -remarkably fond of fishing, and his advisers don't discourage him. I -tell you all this because you're committed to our side now." - -"Yes, I'm committed to your side. Who else is with you?" - -"In Slavna? Nobody! Well, the Zerkovitches, and my hundred in Suleiman's -Tower. And perhaps some old men who have seen war. But at Volseni and -among the hills they're with me." Again he seemed to muse as he reviewed -his scanty forces. - -"I wish we had another match. I want to see your face close," said -Sophy. He rose with a laugh and leaned his head forward to the window. -"Oh no; you're nothing but a blur still!" she exclaimed impatiently. - -Yet, though Sophy sighed for light, the darkness had its glamour. To -each the other's presence, seeming in some sense impalpable, seemed also -diffused through the room and all around; the world besides was -non-existent since unseen; they two alone lived and moved and spoke in -the dead silence and the blackness. An agitation stirred Sophy's -heart--forerunner of the coming storm. That night she had given him -life; he seemed to be giving back life to her life that night. How -should the hour not seem pregnant with destiny, a herald of the march of -Fate? - -But suddenly the Prince awoke from his reverie--perhaps from a dream. To -Sophy he gave the impression--as he was to give it more than once -again--of a man pulling himself up, tightening the rein, drawing back -into himself. He stood erect, his words became more formal, and his -voice restrained. - -"I linger too long," he said. "My duty lies at the Tower yonder. I've -thanked you badly; but what thanks can a man give for his life? We shall -meet again--I'll arrange that with Marie Zerkovitch. You'll remember -what I've told you to do in case of danger? You'll act on it?" - -"Yes, Monseigneur." - -He sought her hand, kissed it, and then groped his way to the stairs. -Sophy followed and went with him down to the porch. - -"Be careful to lock your door," he enjoined her, "and don't go out -to-morrow unless the streets are quite quiet." - -"Oh, but I've a French lesson to give at ten o'clock," she remonstrated -with a smile. - -"You have to do that?" - -"I have to make my living, Monseigneur." - -"Ah, yes," he said, meditatively. "Well, slip out quietly--and wear a -veil." - -"Nobody knows my face." - -"Wear a veil. People notice a face like yours. Again thanks, and -good-night." - -Sophy peeped out from the porch and watched his quick, soldierly march -up the street to St. Michael's Square. The night had lightened a little, -and she could make out his figure, although dimly, until he turned the -corner and was lost to sight. She lingered for a moment before turning -to go back to her room--lingered musing on the evening's history. - -Down the street, from the Square, there came a woman--young or old, -pretty or ugly, fine dame or drudge, it was too dark to tell. But it was -a woman, and she wept as though her heart were broken. For whom and for -what did she weep like that? Was she mother, or wife, or sweetheart? -Perhaps she wept for Sterkoff, who lay in peril of death. Perhaps she -loved big Mistitch, over whom hovered the shadow of swift and relentless -doom. Or maybe her sorrow was remote from all that touched them or -touched the girl who listened to her sobs--the bitter sobs which she did -not seek to check, which filled the night with a dirge of immeasurable -sadness. In the darkness, and to Sophy's ignorance of anything -individual about her, the woman was like a picture or a sculpture--some -type or monument of human woe--a figure of embodied sorrow, crying that -all joy ends in tears--in tears--in tears. - -She went by, not seeing her watcher. The sound of her sobbing softened -with distance, till it died down to a faint, far-off moan. Sophy herself -gave one choked sob. Then fell the silence of the night again. Was that -its last message--the last comment on what had passed? Tears--and then -silence? Was that the end? - -Sophy never learned aught of the woman--who she was or why she wept. But -her memory retained the vision. It had come as the last impression of a -night no moment of which could ever be forgotten. What had it to say of -all the rest of the night's happenings? Sophy's exaltation fell from -her; but her courage stood--against darkness, solitude, and the -unutterable sadness of that forlorn wailing. Dauntlessly she looked -forward and upward still, yet with a new insight for the cost. - -So for Sophy passed the name-day of King Alexis. - - - - -V - -A QUESTION OF MEMORY - - -King Alexis was minded that all proper recognition should be made of -Sophy's service to his family. It had been her fortune to protect a life -very precious in his eyes. Alien from his son in temperament and -pursuits, he had, none the less, considerable affection for him. But -there was more than this. With the Prince was bound up the one strong -feeling of a nature otherwise easy and careless. The King might go -fishing on most lawful days, but it was always a Stefanovitch who -fished--a prince who had married a princess of a great house, and had -felt able to offer Countess Ellenburg no more than a morganatic union. -The work his marriage had begun his son's was to complete. The royal -house of Kravonia was still on its promotion; it lay with the Prince to -make its rank acknowledged and secure. - -Thus Sophy's action loomed large in the King's eyes, and he was -indolently indifferent to the view taken of it in the barrack-rooms and -the drinking-shops of Slavna. Two days after Mistitch's attempt, he -received Sophy at the Palace with every circumstance of compliment. The -Prince was not present--he made military duty an excuse--but Countess -Ellenburg and her little son were in the room, and General Stenovics, -with Markart in attendance, stood beside the King's chair. - -Sophy saw a tall, handsome, elderly man with thick, iron-gray hair, most -artfully arranged. (The care of it was no small part of the duty of -Lepage, the King's French body-servant.) His Majesty's manners were -dignified, but not formal. The warmth of greeting which he had prepared -for Sophy was evidently increased by the impression her appearance made -on him. He thanked her in terms of almost overwhelming gratitude. - -"You have preserved the future of my family and of our dynasty," he -said. - -Countess Ellenburg closed her long, narrow eyes. Everything about her -was long and narrow, from her eyes to her views, taking in, on the way, -her nose and her chin. Stenovics glanced at her with a smile of uneasy -propitiation. It was so particularly important to be gracious just -now--gracious both over the preservation of the dynasty and over its -preserver. - -"No gratitude can be too great for such a service, and no mark of -gratitude too high." He glanced round to Markart, and called -good-humoredly, "You, Markart there, a chair for this lady!" - -Markart got a chair. Stenovics took it from him and himself prepared to -offer it to Sophy. But the King rose, took it, and with a low bow -presented it to the favored object of his gratitude. Sophy courtesied -low, the King waited till she sat. Countess Ellenburg bestowed on her a -smile of wintry congratulation. - -"But for you, these fellows might--or rather would, I think--have killed -my son in their blind drunkenness; it detracts in no way from your -service that they did not know whom they were attacking." - -There was a moment's silence. Sophy was still nervous in such company; -she was also uneasily conscious of a most intense gaze directed at her -by General Stenovics. But she spoke out. - -"They knew perfectly well, sir," she said. - -"They knew the Prince?" he asked sharply. "Why do you say that? It was -dark." - -"Not in the street, sir. The illuminations lit it up." - -"But they were very drunk." - -"They may have been drunk, but they knew the Prince. Captain Mistitch -called him by his name." - -"Stenovics!" The King's voice was full of surprise and question as he -turned to his Minister. The General was surprised, too, but very suave. - -"I can only say that I hear Mademoiselle de Gruche's words with -astonishment. Our accounts are not consistent with what she says. We -don't, of course, lay too much stress on the protestations of the two -prisoners, but Lieutenant Rastatz is clear that the street was decidedly -dark, and that they all three believed the man they encountered to be -Colonel Stafnitz of the Hussars. That officer much resembles his Royal -Highness in height and figure. In the dark the difference of uniform -would not be noticed--especially by men in their condition." He -addressed Sophy: "Mistitch had an old quarrel with Stafnitz; that's the -true origin of the affair." He turned to the King again. "That is -Rastatz's story, sir, as well as Mistitch's own--though Mistitch is, of -course, quite aware that his most unseemly, and indeed criminal, talk at -the Golden Lion seriously prejudices his case. But we have no reason to -distrust Rastatz." - -"Lieutenant Rastatz ran away only because he was afraid," Sophy -remarked. - -"He ran to bring help, mademoiselle," Stenovics corrected her, with a -look of gentle reproach. "You were naturally excited," he went on. -"Isn't it possible that your memory has played you a trick? Think -carefully. Two men's lives may depend on it." - -"I heard Captain Mistitch call the Prince 'Sergius Stefanovitch,'" said -Sophy. - -"This lady will be a most important witness," observed the King. - -"Very, sir," Stenovics assented dryly. - -Sophy had grown eager. "Doesn't the Prince say they knew him?" - -"His Royal Highness hasn't been asked for any account at present," -Stenovics answered. - -"If they knew who it was, they must die," said the King in evident -concern and excitement. - -Stenovics contented himself with a bow of obedience. The King rose and -gave Sophy his hand. - -"We shall hope to see you again soon," he said, very graciously. -"Meanwhile, General Stenovics has something to say to you in my name -which will, I trust, prove agreeable to you." His eyes dwelt on her face -for a moment as she took her leave. - -Stenovics made his communication later in the day, paying Sophy the high -compliment of a personal call at the sign of the Silver Cock for that -purpose. His manner was most cordial. Sophy was to receive an honorary -appointment in the Royal Household at an annual salary of ten thousand -paras, or some four hundred pounds. - -"It isn't riches--we aren't very rich in Kravonia--but it will, I hope, -make you comfortable and relieve you from the tiresome lessons which -Markart tells me you're now burdened with." - -Sophy was duly grateful, and asked what her appointment was. - -"It's purely honorary," he smiled. "You are to be Keeper of the -Tapestries." - -"I know nothing about tapestries," said Sophy, "but I dare say I can -learn; it'll be very interesting." - -Stenovics leaned back in his chair with an amused smile. - -"There aren't any tapestries," he said. "They were sold a good many -years ago." - -"Then why do you keep a--" - -"When you're older in the royal service, you'll see that it's convenient -to have a few sinecures," he told her, with a good-humored laugh. "See -how handy this one is now!" - -"But I shall feel rather an impostor." - -"Merely the novelty of it," he assured her consolingly. - -Sophy began to laugh, and the General joined in heartily. "Well, that's -settled," said he. "You make three or four appearances at Court, and -nothing more will be necessary. I hope you like your appointment?" - -Sophy laughed delightedly. "It's charming--and very amusing," she said. -"I'm getting very much interested in your country, General." - -"My country is returning your kind compliment, I can assure you," he -replied. His tone had grown dry, and he seemed to be watching her now. -She waved her hands towards the Virgin with the lamp: the massive figure -stood in its old place by the window. - -"What a lot I owe to her!" she cried. - -"We all owe much," said Stenovics. - -"The Prince thought some people might be angry with me--because Captain -Mistitch is a favorite." - -"Very possible, I'm afraid, very possible. But in this world we must do -our duty, and--" - -"Risk the consequences? Yes!" - -"If we can't control them, Mademoiselle de Gruche." He paused a moment, -and then went on: "The court-martial on Mistitch is convened for -Saturday. Sterkoff won't be well enough to be tried for another two or -three weeks." - -"I'm glad he's not dead, though if he recovers only to be shot--! Still, -I'm glad I didn't kill him." - -"Not by your hand," said Stenovics. - -"But you mean in effect? Well, I'm not ashamed. Surely they deserve -death." - -"Undoubtedly--if Rastatz is wrong--and your memory right." - -"The Prince's own story?" - -"He isn't committed to any story yet." - -Sophy rested her chin on her hand, and regarded her companion closely. -He did not avoid her glance. - -"You're wondering what I mean?--what I'm after?" he asked her, smiling -quietly. "Oh yes, I see you are. Go on wondering, thinking, watching -things about you for a day or two--there are three days between now and -Saturday. You'll see me again before Saturday--and I've no doubt you'll -see the Prince." - -"If Rastatz were right--and my memory wrong--?" - -He smiled still. "The offence against discipline would be so much less -serious. The Prince is a disciplinarian. To speak with all respect, he -forgets sometimes that discipline is, in the last analysis, only a part -of policy--a means, not an end. The end is always the safety and -tranquillity of the State." He spoke with weighty emphasis. - -"The offence against discipline! An attempt to assassinate--!" - -"I see you cling to your own memory--you won't have anything to say to -Rastatz!" He rose and bowed over her hand. "Much may happen between now -and Saturday. Look about you, watch, and think!" - -The General's final injunction, at least, Sophy lost no time in obeying; -and on the slightest thought three things were obvious: the King was -very grateful to her; Stenovics wished at any rate to appear very -grateful to her; and, for some reason or another, Stenovics wished her -memory to be wrong, to the end that the life of Mistitch and his -companion (the greater included the less) might be spared. Why did he -wish that? - -Presumably--his words about the relation of discipline to policy -supported the conclusion--to avoid that disturbance which the Prince had -forecasted as the result of Mistitch's being put to death. But the -Prince was not afraid of the disturbance--why should Stenovics be? The -Commandant was all confidence--was the Minister afraid? In some sense he -was afraid. That she accepted. But she hesitated to believe that he was -afraid in the common sense that he was either lacking in nerve or -overburdened with humanity, that he either feared fighting or would -shrink from a salutary severity in repressing tumult. If he feared, he -feared neither for his own skin nor for the skin of others; he feared -for his policy or his ambition. - -These things were nothing to her; she was for the Prince, for his policy -and his ambition. Were they the same as Stenovics's? Even a novice at -the game could see that this by no means followed of necessity. The King -was elderly, and went a-fishing. The Prince was young, and a martinet. -In age, Stenovics was between the two--nearly twenty years younger than -the King, a dozen or so older than the Prince. Under the present régime -he had matters almost entirely his own way. At first sight there was, of -a certainty, no reason why his ambitions should coincide precisely with -those of the Prince. Fifty-nine, forty-one, twenty-eight--the ages of -the three men in themselves illuminated the situation--that is, if -forty-one could manage fifty-nine, but had no such power over -twenty-eight. - -New to such meditations, yet with a native pleasure in them, taking to -the troubled waters as though born a swimmer, Sophy thought, and -watched, and looked about. As to her own part she was clear. Whether -Rastatz was right--whether that most vivid and indelible memory of hers -was wrong--were questions which awaited the sole determination of the -Prince of Slavna. - -Her attitude would have been unchanged, but her knowledge much -increased, could she have been present at a certain meeting on the -terrace of the Hôtel de Paris that same evening. Markart was there--and -little Rastatz, whose timely flight and accommodating memory rendered -him to-day not only a free man but a personage of value. But neither did -more than wait on the words of the third member of the party--that -Colonel Stafnitz of the Hussars who had an old feud with Mistitch, for -whom Mistitch had mistaken the Prince of Slavna. A most magnanimous, -forgiving gentleman, apparently, this spare, slim-built man with -thoughtful eyes; his whole concern was to get Mistitch out of the mess! -The feud he seemed to remember not at all; it was a feud of convenience, -a feud to swear to at the court-martial. He was as ready to accommodate -Stenovics with the use of his name as Rastatz was to offer the -requisite modifications of his memory. But there--with that supply of a -convenient fiction--his pliability stopped. He spoke to Markart, using -him as a conduit-pipe--the words would flow through to General -Stenovics. - -"If the General doesn't want to see me now--and I can understand that he -mustn't be caught confabbing with any supposed parties to the -affair--you must make it plain to him how matters stand. Somehow and by -some means our dear Hercules must be saved. Hercules is an ass; but so -are most of the men--and all the rowdies of Slavna. They love their -Hercules, and they won't let him die without a fight--and a very big -fight. In that fight what might happen to his Royal Highness the -Commandant? And if anything did happen to him, what might happen to -General Stenovics? I don't know that either, but it seems to me that -he'd be in an awkward place. The King wouldn't be pleased with him; and -we here in Slavna--are we going to trouble ourselves about the man who -couldn't save our Hercules?" - -Round-faced Markart nodded in a perplexed fashion. Stafnitz clapped him -on the shoulder with a laugh. - -"For Heaven's sake don't think about it or you'll get it all mixed! Just -try to remember it. Your only business is to report what I say to the -General." - -Rastatz sniggered shrilly. When the wine was not in him, he was a -cunning little rogue--a useful tool in any matter which did not ask for -courage. - -"If I'd been here, Mistitch wouldn't have done the thing at all--or done -it better. But what's done is done. And we expect the General to stand -by us. If he won't, we must act for ourselves--for there'll be no -bearing our dear Commandant if we sit down under the death of Mistitch. -In short, the men won't stand it." He tapped Markart's arm. "The General -must release unto us Barabbas!" - -The man's easy self-confidence, his air of authority, surprised neither -of his companions. If there were a good soldier besides the Commandant -in Slavna, Stafnitz was the man; if there were a head in Kravonia cooler -than Stenovics's, it was on the shoulders of Stafnitz. He was the brain -to Mistitch's body--the mind behind Captain Hercules's loud voice and -brawny fist. - -"Tell him not to play his big stake on a bad hand. Mind you tell him -that." - -"His big stake, Colonel?" asked Markart. "What do I understand by that?" - -"Nothing; and you weren't meant to. But tell Stenovics--he'll -understand." - -Rastatz laughed his rickety giggle again. - -"Rastatz does that to make you think he understands better than you do. -Be comforted--he doesn't." Rastatz's laugh broke out again, but now -forced and uneasy. "And the girl who knocked Sterkoff out of time--I -wish she'd killed the stupid brute--what about her, Markart?" - -"She's--er--a very remarkable person, Colonel." - -"Er--is she? I must make her acquaintance. Good-bye, Markart." - -Markart had meant to stay for half an hour, but he went. - -"Good-bye, Rastatz." - -Rastatz had just ordered another _liqueur_; but, without waiting to -drink it, he too went. Stafnitz sat on alone, smoking his cigar. There -were no signs of care on his face. Though not gay, it was calm and -smooth; no wrinkles witnessed to worry, nor marred the comely remains -of youth which had survived his five and thirty years. - -He finished his cigar, drank his coffee, and rose to go. Then he looked -carefully round the terrace, distinguished the prettiest woman with a -momentarily lingering look, made his salute to a brother officer, and -strolled away along the boulevard. - -Before he reached the barracks in St. Michael's Square he met a woman -whose figure pleased him; she was tall and lithe, moving with a free -grace. But over her face she wore a thick veil. The veil no doubt -annoyed him; but he was to have other opportunities of seeing Sophy's -face. - - - - -VI - -"IMPOSSIBLE" OR "IMMEDIATE"? - - -Stenovics was indeed in a quandary. Mistitch had precipitated an -unwelcome and premature crisis. The Minister's deliberate, slow-moving -game was brought to a sudden issue which he was not ready to face. It -had been an essential feature--a governing rule--of his campaign to -avoid any open conflict with the Prince of Slavna until an occasion -arose on which both the army and the King would be on his side. The King -was a power not merely by reason of his cheaply won popularity, but also -because he was, while he lived, the only man who could crown Stenovics's -operations with the consummation to which the Minister and his ally, -Countess Ellenburg, looked forward with distant yet sanguine hope. The -army was with him now, but the other factor was lacking. The King's -pride, as well as his affection, was enlisted in his son's interest. -Moreover, this occasion was very bad. - -Mistitch was no better than an assassin; to take up arms on his behalf -was to fight in a cause plainly disgraceful--one which would make -success very difficult and smirch it forever and beyond remedy, even if -it came. It was no cause in which to fight both Prince and King. That -would be playing the big stake on a bad hand--as Stafnitz put it. - -Yet the alternative? Stafnitz, again, had put that clearly. The army -would have no more to do with the man who could not help it at the -pinch, who could not save its favorite, who could not release Barabbas. - -The Prince seemed to be in his most unyielding mood--the Bourbon in him -was peeping out. For the honor of the Royal House, and for the sake of -discipline, Mistitch must die. He had packed his court-martial with the -few trustworthy friends he had among the officers, using the -justification which jury-packers always use--and sometimes have. He had -no fear of the verdict--and no heed for its unpopularity. He knew the -danger--Stenovics made no secret about that--but said plainly that he -would sooner be beaten by a mutiny than yield to the threat of one. The -first meant for him defeat, perhaps death, but not dishonor, nor -ignominy. The more Stenovics prophesied--or threatened--a revolt of the -troops, the more the Commandant stiffened his neck. - -Meanwhile, Slavna waited in ominous, sullen quiet, and the atmosphere -was so stormy that King Alexis had no heart for fishing. - -On Friday morning--the day before that appointed for Mistitch's -trial--the names of the members of the Court were published; the list -met with the reception which was, no doubt, anticipated even by the -Prince himself. The streets began to fill with loiterers, talkers, and -watchers; barrack-rooms were vociferous with grumbling and with -speculation. Stafnitz, with Rastatz always at his heels, was busy with -many interviews; Stenovics sat in his room, moodily staring before him, -seeking a road out of his blind alley; and a carriage drew up before the -sign of the Silver Cock as the Cathedral bells chimed noon. It was empty -inside, but by the driver sat Peter Vassip, the Prince's personal -attendant, wearing the sheepskin coat, leather breeches, and high boots -that the men of the hills wore. His business was to summon Sophy to -Suleiman's Tower. - -The Square of St. Michael was full of life and bustle, the Golden Lion -did a fine trade. But the centre of interest was on the north wall and -the adjacent quays, under the shadow of Suleiman's Tower. Within those -walls were the two protagonists. Thence the Prince issued his orders; -thither Mistitch had been secretly conveyed the night before by a party -of the Prince's own guard, trustworthy Volsenians. - -A crowd of citizens and soldiers was chattering and staring at the Tower -when Sophy's carriage drew up at the entrance of the bridge which, -crossing the North River, gave access to the fort. The mouth of the -bridge was guarded by fifty of those same Volsenians. They had but to -retreat and raise the bridge behind them, and Mistitch was safe in the -trap. Only--and the crowd was quick enough to understand the -situation--the prisoner's trap could be made a snare for his jailer, -too. Unless provisions could be obtained from the country round, it -would be impossible to hold the Tower for long against an enemy -controlling the butchers' and bakers' shops of Slavna. Yet it could be -held long enough to settle the business of Captain Hercules. - -The shadow of the weeping woman had passed from Sophy's spirit; the sad -impression was never the lasting one with her. An hour of crisis always -found her gay. She entered the time-worn walls of Suleiman's Tower with -a thrill of pleasure, and followed Peter Vassip up the narrow stair with -a delighted curiosity. The Prince received her in the large round room, -which constituted the first floor of the central tower. Its furniture -was simple, almost rude, its massive walls quite bare save for some -pieces of ancient armor. Narrow slits, deep-set in the masonry, served -for windows and gave a view of the city and of the country round on -every side; they showed the seething throng on the north wall and on the -quays; the distant sound of a thousand voices struck the ear. - -Zerkovitch and his wife were with the Prince, seated over a simple meal, -at which Sophy joined them. Marie had watched Sophy's entrance and the -Prince's greeting closely; she marked Sophy's excitement betrayed in the -familiar signal on her cheek. But the journalist was too excited on his -own account to notice other people. He was talking feverishly, throwing -his lean body about, and dashing his hands up and down; he hardly paused -to welcome the newcomer. He had a thousand plans by which the Prince was -to overcome and hold down Slavna. One and all, they had the same defect; -they supposed the absence of the danger which they were contrived to -meet. They assumed that the soldiers would obey the Commandant, even -with the sound of the rifles which had shot Mistitch fresh in their -ears. - -The Prince listened good-humoredly to his enthusiastic but highly -unpractical adherent; but his mind did not follow the talk. Sophy -hearkened with the eagerness of a novice--and he watched her face. Marie -watched his, remembering how she had prayed Sophy not to come to Slavna. -Sophy was here--and Fate had thrown her across the Prince's path. With a -woman's preference for the personal, Marie was more occupied with this -situation than with the temper of the capital or the measures of the -Prince. - -At last their host roused himself, and patted Zerkovitch's shoulder -indulgently. - -"Well, it's good not to fear," he said. "We didn't fear the other night, -Mademoiselle de Gruche and I. And all ended well!" - -"Ended?" Marie murmured, half under her breath. - -The Prince laughed. "You sha'n't make me afraid," he told her, "any more -than Zerkovitch shall make me trust Colonel Stafnitz. I can't say more -than that." He turned to Sophy. "I think you'd better stay here till we -see what's going to happen to-night--and our friends here will do the -same. If all's quiet, you can go home to sleep. If not, we can give you -quarters--rough ones, I'm afraid." He rose from the table and went to a -window. "The crowd's thinner; they've gone off to eat and drink. We -shall have one quiet hour, at all events." - -An orderly entered and gave him a letter. - -He read it, and said: "Tell General Stenovics I will receive him here at -two o'clock." When the messenger had gone, he turned round towards the -table. "A last appeal, I suppose! With all the old arguments! But the -General has nothing to give in exchange for Mistitch. My price would be -very high." - -"No price! no price!" cried fiery Zerkovitch. "He raised his sword -against you! He must die!" - -"Yes, he must die." He turned to the window again. Sophy rose from the -table and joined him there, looking over the city. Directly beneath was -the great gate, flanked on either side by broad, massive walls, which -seemed to grow out of the waters of the river. He was aware of her -movement, though he had not looked round at her. "I've brought you, too, -into this trouble--you, a stranger," he said. - -"You don't think I'm sorry for that?" - -"No. But it makes my impotence worse." He waved his arm towards the -city. "There it is--here am I! And yet--I'm powerless!" - -Sophy followed his gesture, and understood what was passing in his -mind--the pang of the soldier without his armament, the workman without -his tools. Their midnight talk flashed back into recollection. She -remembered his bitter complaint. Under her breath, and with a sigh, she -whispered: "If you had the big guns now!" - -Low as the whisper was, he heard it--and it seemed to shoot through his -brain. He turned sharply round on her and gazed full into her eyes. So -he stood a moment, then quickly returned to the table and sat down. -Sophy followed, her gaze fixed on his face. Zerkovitch ceased -writing--he had been drawing up another plan; both he and Marie now -watched the Prince. Moments went by in silence. - -At last the Prince spoke--in a low voice, almost dreamy. "My guns for -Mistitch! Mistitch against my guns! That would be a price--a fair -price!" - -The three sat silent. The Zerkovitches, too, had heard him talk of the -guns: how on them hung the tranquillity of the city, and how on them -might hang the country's honor and existence. Stenovics could give them, -if he would, in return for Mistitch. But to give up Mistitch was a great -surrender. Sophy's whisper, almost involuntary, the voicing of a regret, -hardly even of a distant aspiration, had raised a problem of conduct, a -question of high policy. The Prince's brain was busy with it, and his -mind perplexed. Sophy sat watching him, not thinking now, but waiting, -conscious only that by what seemed almost chance a new face had, through -her, been put on the situation. - -Suddenly Zerkovitch brought his clinched fist down on the table. "No!" -he almost shouted. "They'll think you're afraid!" - -"Yes, they'll think that--but not all of them. Stenovics will know -better--and Stafnitz, too. They'll know I do it, not because I'm afraid, -but in order that I never need be." - -"Then Stenovics won't give them!" cried Marie. - -"I think he must give anything or everything for Mistitch." He rose and -paced restlessly about the room. Sophy still followed him with her eyes, -but she alone of the three offered no argument and made no suggestion. -The Prince stood still for a moment in deep thought. Then his face -cleared. He came quickly up to Sophy, took her hand, and kissed it. - -"Thank you," he said. "I don't know how it will turn out for me; the -case is too difficult for me to be able to foresee that. For me it may -be mastery--I always thought it would mean that. Or perhaps, somehow, it -may turn to ruin." He pressed Sophy's hand now and smiled at her. She -understood and returned his smile. "But the question isn't one of my -interest. My duty is plain." - -He walked quickly to his writing-table and unlocked a drawer. He -returned to the table with an envelope in his hand, and sat down between -Marie and Zerkovitch. - -The orderly entered again, announcing Stenovics. "Let him come in here," -said the Prince. His manner grew lighter, and the smile which had -comforted Sophy remained on his face. - -Stenovics came in; his air was nervous, and he looked at the Prince's -three companions with a visible access of embarrassment. At a nod from -the Prince, the orderly placed a chair for the General, and withdrew. - -"The same matter we discussed last night, General?" - -"There can be but one matter in the thoughts of all of us now, sir. -Pardon me--I understood your Royal Highness would receive me alone." - -The Prince gave a low laugh. "When one bargains, shouldn't one have -witnesses?" - -In an instant Stenovics laid hold of the significant word; it made him -forget his request for privacy. An eager light came into his eyes. - -"Bargains? You're ready now to--?" - -"_La nuit porte conseil._" He drew a paper from the envelope, unfolded -it, and handed it across the table. "You remember that--a memorandum I -sent to you three months ago--in my capacity as Commandant?" - -Stenovics looked at the paper. "I remember, sir." - -"It's indorsed in your hand?" - -"Yes." - -"The indorsement runs: 'Impossible.' Rather curt, General!" - -"The note was for my private use, but your Royal Highness particularly -pressed for the return of the document." - -"I did. And, after all, why use more words than necessary? One will -still be enough--but not that one." - -"I'm not following you, sir," said Stenovics. - -The Prince leaned across the table to him. "In our conversation, last -night, you asked me to do a very remarkable thing, and to get this lady -here" (he indicated Sophy) "to do it, too. You remember? We were to -think that, at night, in the Street of the Fountain, in the light of the -illuminations, Sergius Stefanovitch and Nikolas Stafnitz looked--and -sounded--just the same. I didn't see my way to that, and I didn't think -this lady would see hers. It seemed so difficult." - -Stenovics was in a strain of close attention. The paper from the -envelope crackled under the trembling of his hand. - -"Now, if we had such a memory as Lieutenant Rastatz is happy enough to -possess!" the Prince pursued. "Or if Colonel Stafnitz had taken us into -his confidence about his quarrel with Captain Mistitch! All that was not -so last night. Consequently, Captain Mistitch must be tried and shot, -instead of suffering some not very severe disciplinary punishment, for -brawling in the street and having a quarrel with his superior officer." - -Stenovics marked every word, and understood the implied offer. The offer -was good enough; Stafnitz himself would not and could not ask that no -notice whatever should be taken. The trifling nature of the punishment -would in itself be a great victory. But the price? He was to hear that -in a moment. - -"Sergius Stefanovitch--Nikolas Stafnitz! Which was it, General? It's -only changing two words, yet what a difference it makes!" - -"The difference of peace to-night or--" Stenovics waved his hand towards -the city. But the Prince interrupted him. - -"Never mind that," he said, rather sharply. "That's not first in my -mind, or I should have left the matter where it rested last night. I was -thinking of the difference to Captain Mistitch--and perhaps to you, -General." - -He looked full at Stenovics, and the General's eyes fell. The Prince -pointed his finger across the table at the paper under Stenovics's -hand. - -"I'm a liberal bargainer," he said, "and I offer you a good margin of -profit. I'll change two words if you'll change one--two for you against -one for me! 'Sergius Stefanovitch' becomes 'Nikolas Stafnitz' if -'Impossible' becomes 'Immediate.'" - -Stenovics gave one slight start, then leaned back in his chair and -looked past the Prince out of the window opposite to him. - -"Make that change, and we'll settle details afterwards. I must have full -guarantees. I must see the order sent, and the money deposited in my -name and at my disposal." - -"This afternoon, sir?" - -"Wouldn't it be well to release Captain Mistitch from Suleiman's Tower -before to-night?" - -"The money is difficult to-day." - -"The release will be impossible to-morrow." - -Again Stenovics's eyes wandered to the window, and a silence followed. -Perhaps he saw the big guns already in position, dominating the city; -perhaps he listened to the hum of voices which again began to swell in -volume from the wall and from the quays. There are times when a man must -buy the present with a mortgage on the future, however onerous the terms -may be. It was danger against destruction. He put out his hand and took -from Zerkovitch a quill which the journalist was twiddling in his -fingers. He made a scratch and a scribble on the paper which the Prince -had taken from the envelope. - -"'Impossible' has become 'Immediate,' sir." - -"And 'Sergius Stefanovitch' 'Nikolas Stafnitz,'" said the Prince. He -looked at Sophy for confirmation, and she softly clapped her hands. - - - - -VII - -THE BARONESS GOES TO COURT - - -The troops of the garrison and their allies, the scum of the streets, -thought that they had scored a great victory and inflicted deep -humiliation on the unpopular martinet who ruled and harried them. They -celebrated the event with noisy but harmless revels, and when Captain -Hercules was seen about again (he submitted to a fortnight's confinement -to barracks with feelings in which thankfulness, though not gratitude, -predominated), he found his popularity with them greater than ever. But -in the higher circles--the inner ring--of the party he served, his -reception was not so cordial. Stenovics would not see him; Stafnitz saw -him only to express a most uncompromising judgment on his conduct. - -Yielding in appearance, in point of substance the Prince of Slavna had -scored heavily. The big guns were ordered from Germany. The Prince had -the money to pay for them, and they were to be consigned to him; these -were the guarantees which he had asked from Stenovics. When the guns -came--and he had agreed to make an extra payment for early delivery--his -situation would be very different. With trusty men behind them, it would -go hard with him if he were not master of Slavna, and he had already -obtained the King's sanction to raise and train a force of artillery -from among his own men in Volseni and its neighborhood. The men of -Volseni were proof against Mistitch's bragging and the subtle indulgence -by which Stafnitz held his power over the rank and file of the army. -They were true to the Prince. - -The idle King's family pride was touched; it was the one thing which -could rouse him. At his son's express request--and at that only--he -acquiesced in the release of Mistitch and his satellite Sterkoff; but he -was determined to make his own attitude clear and to do what he could to -restore the prestige of his family. The Prince said dryly that the -prestige would profit best of all by the big guns; the King was minded -to supplement their effect by something more ornate. He created a new -Order, and made his son Grand Master of it. There was no harm in that, -and Stenovics readily consented. He declared that something more must be -done for the lady to whom his son owed his life; to be made Keeper of -the Tapestries might be a convenient recompense, but was not honor -enough. Stenovics declared that any mark of favor which His Majesty -designed for Mademoiselle de Gruche might most properly be hers. -Finally, the King instructed Stenovics to concentrate all his energies -on the matrimonial negotiations. A splendid marriage would enhance and -strengthen the prestige more than anything else. Stenovics promised -zealous obedience, and withdrew full of thought. The Order was an easy -matter, and honors for Sophy did no harm. The marriage was ground much -more delicate. It touched the "big stake" which Colonel Stafnitz had so -emphatically warned the General not to play on the bad hand dealt to him -by Mistitch's blundering. But with the big guns in position, and the -sturdy men of Volseni behind them--would a good hand ever come? - -There were but three in the inner secret of the scheme, but they were -three of the longest heads in Kravonia. Countess Ellenburg was a pious -woman and of exemplary demeanor; but (as Markart told Sophy) women are -ambitious, and she had borne the King a son. Stenovics saw himself cast -aside like an old glove if Prince Sergius came to the throne. Stafnitz -was a born fisher in troubled waters, and threw a skilful net. Twice -before in the country's history, intrigue had made revolution, and -changed the order of succession in the House of Stefanovitch. The three -waited on chance, but the chance was not yet. If the King were at enmity -with his son, or if there were a demise of the Crown while the Prince -was not on the spot to look after his interests, there might lie the -opportunity. But now the King was all cordiality for his Heir Apparent, -the Prince was on the spot; the guns and their Volsenian gunners -threatened to be on the spot, too, ere long. It was not now the moment -for the big stake. - -King Alexis was delighted with his new Order, and the Grand Master's -insignia were very handsome. In the centre of a five-pointed star St. -Michael slew the Dragon--a symbol, perhaps, of Captain Mistitch! The -broad ribbon was of virgin white; it would show up well against either -the black sheepskin of the Volsenian tunic or the bright blue of the -Prince's hussar uniform. There were, some day, to be five other Knights; -with the Grand Master and the Sovereign himself the mystic number Seven -would be reached--but it would never be exceeded; the Order would be -most select. All this the King explained in a florid speech, gleeful -with his new toy, while the serious folks listened with a respectful -deference and a secret smile. "If he would make order, instead of -Orders!" thought the Prince; and probably Colonel Stafnitz, in -attendance as his Majesty's aide-de-camp, had thoughts not very -different. Yet, even toys take on a significance when grown-up people -play with them. Countess Ellenburg was not pleased that only one -appointment should be made to the Order of St. Michael. Was it not time -that the pretty boy Alexis wore a Star? - -The King had not done yet; there was honor for the Prince's friends, -too; men should know that service to the Royal House was meritorious in -proportion to the illustrious position of that House. Zerkovitch stood -forward and was made Chevalier of the Cross of Kravonia. The occasion -cost Zerkovitch the price of a Court suit, but for Marie's sake he bore -the outlay patiently. Then the King, having refreshed himself with a -draught which his valet Lepage brought him, turned to his most pleasing -task. The Keeper of the Tapestries was called from her place in the -circle beside Marie Zerkovitch. Colonel Stafnitz had not noticed her -standing there, but now he gave a little start; the figure seemed -familiar. He turned his head round to Markart, who was just behind him. -"Yes, that's her," Markart whispered in answer to the question in the -Colonel's eyes. The eyes flew back to Sophy instantly. There, too, was -set the gaze of Countess Ellenburg. For Sophy was in full beauty that -day. She, too, loved toys; and her ancient hatred of the name to which -she had been born must be remembered. Her eyes glowed, and the Red Star -glowed on her cheek. All her air was triumphant as she courtesied to the -King, and then stood, erect and proud, to hear his gracious words. - -Gracious his words were for her deed, and gracious his smile for her -comely beauty. He could at least look a king--no man denied him -that--and speak in kingly phrases. "A service unmatched in courage, and -immeasurable in importance to us and our Royal House, the preservation -of our dearly loved son and only Heir." (Countess Ellenburg looked down -her nose at that!) For such an act did he confer a patent of nobility on -Sophy, and for greater honor gave her, as title the name of one of his -own estates, together with a charge on its revenues equal to her new -dignity. - -He ended and sank back in his chair. Her Prince came forward and kissed -her hand before them all. Countess Ellenburg bowed condescendingly. A -decorous murmur of applause filled the hall as, with shining eyes, -Sophia, Baroness Dobrava, courtesied again very low. - -So, as Sophy Grouch had gone, went Sophie de Gruche! - -"She's delighted--poor child!" whispered Marie Zerkovitch; but only -Julia Robins, in England far away, heard the full torrent of Sophy's -simple, child-like exultation. Such a letter went to her that -night!--but there was stuff in it besides the Baroness's pæan. - -Suddenly a childish voice rang out clear through the hall--a fearless, -eager little voice. - -"What's that you've got on your cheek?" asked young Alexis, with -engaging candor; his finger pointed at Sophy's face. - -So quaint an interruption to the stately formality of the scene struck -people's sense of humor. Everybody laughed--even Countess Ellenburg. -Sophy's own laugh rose rich and merry. Her ignorance or carelessness of -etiquette betrayed itself; she darted at the pretty boy, caught him in -her arms, and kissed him, answering: "That's my luck--my Red Star." - -The boy touched the mark with his finger; a look of childish awe came -into his blue eyes. - -"Your luck!" he said, softly, and continued to look at the mysterious -sign after Sophy had set him down again. The little scene was told all -over Slavna before night--and men and women talked, according to their -temper, of the nature and the meaning of the Red Star. If only the -foolish think about such things, even the wise talk. - -The King left his chair and mingled with his guests. His movement was -the signal for a general relaxation of ceremony. The Prince came across -the room and joined Sophy, who had returned to Marie Zerkovitch's side. -He offered the Baroness his congratulations, but in somewhat constrained -tones. His mind seemed to be on something else; once or twice he looked -inquiringly at Marie, who in her turn showed signs of restlessness or -distress. A silence followed on Sophy's expression of her -acknowledgments. The Prince glanced again at Marie and made up his mind -to speak. - -"You've done me the kindness I asked?" he inquired of Marie. - -Marie picked at the feathers of her fan in unhappy embarrassment. "No, -sir, I haven't. I--I couldn't." - -"But why not?" he asked in surprise. - -"I--I couldn't," repeated Marie, flushing. - -He looked at her gravely for a moment, then smiled. "Then I must plead -my own cause," he said, and turned to Sophy. "Next week I'm leaving -Slavna and going to my Castle of Praslok. It's near Volseni, you know, -and I want to raise and train my gunners at Volseni. We must be ready -for our guns when they come, mustn't we?" - -His eyes met hers--eager glance exchanged for glance as eager. "Our -guns!" whispered Sophy under her breath. - -"Marie here and Zerkovitch have promised to come with me. He'll write -what ought to be written, and she'll cook the dinners." He laughed. "Oh, -well, we do live very simply at Praslok. We shall be there three months -at least. I asked Marie to persuade you to come with her and to stay as -long as you could. But she's disappointed me. I must plead for myself." - -The changing expressions of Sophy's eyes had marked every sentence of -his speech, and Marie marked every expression of the eyes. They had -grown forlorn and apprehensive when he spoke of leaving Slavna; a sudden -joy leaped into them at his invitation to Praslok. - -"You'll come for a little? The scenery is very fine, and the people -interesting." - -Sophy gave a low laugh. "Since the scenery is fine and the people -interesting--yes, Monseigneur." - -Their eyes met again, and he echoed back her laugh. Marie Zerkovitch -drew in her breath sharply. With swift insight she saw--and foresaw. She -remembered the presentiment, under whose influence she had begged Sophy -not to come to Kravonia. But fate had weighted the scales heavily -against her. The Baroness Dobrava was here. - -The Prince turned to Marie with a puzzled look. Sophy was lost in glad -anticipations. Marie met the Prince's look with a deprecating imploring -glance. He frowned a little--not in anger, but in puzzle; what she -foresaw he himself had not yet divined; he was feeling the joy without -understanding it. - -"At any rate you're not responsible now if we do freeze her to death -with our mountain snows," he said in a jest which veiled friendly -reproach. - -"No, at least I'm not responsible," Marie answered. - -There was a note in her voice now which commanded even Sophy's -pre-engaged attention. She looked sharply at her friend--and perhaps she -understood. But she did not yield to the suggestion. She drew herself up -proudly. "I'm not afraid of what may happen to me at Praslok, -Monseigneur," she said. - -A simultaneous exclamation of many voices broke across their talk. At -the other end of the room, men and women pressed into a circle round -some point of interest which could not be seen by Sophy and her -companions. A loud voice rang out in authoritative tones: "Stand back! -Stand back--and open all the windows!" - -"That's Natcheff's voice," said the Prince. Natcheff was the leading -physician of Slavna. "Somebody's fainted, I suppose. Well, the place is -stuffy enough!" - -Markart emerged from the circle, which had widened out in obedience to -the physician's orders. As he hurried past the Prince, he said: "The -King has fainted, sir. I'm going to fetch Lepage." Two or three other -men ran and opened the windows. - -"The King fainted! I never knew him do that before." - -He hastened to where his father lay, the subject of Natcheff's -ministrations. Sophy and Marie followed in his wake through the opening -which the onlookers made for him. The King showed signs of recovering, -but Natcheff's face was grave beyond even the requirements of his -profession or of his patient's rank. The next moment Lepage came up. -This man, the King's body-servant, was a small, plump person, who had -generally a weary, impassive, uninterested manner. He looked rather -uninterested even now, but his walk was very quick, and he was soon -aiding Natcheff with deft and nimble fingers. - -"This is strange, Lepage," said Natcheff. - -Lepage did not look up from his task. - -"Has it ever happened before?" - -Then Lepage did look up. He appeared to consider and to hesitate. He -glanced once at the King before he answered. - -"It's the third attack in two months," he said, at last. - -"You never told me!" The words shot sharp from Natcheff's lips. - -"That was by His Majesty's peremptory orders. He'll be angry that I've -told you now." - -"Clear the room!" ordered Natcheff, shortly. - -Slavna had plenty to talk about that night. Besides the Baroness -Dobrava's Red Star, there was the fainting fit of King Alexis! The -evening bulletin was entirely favorable; the King had quite recovered. -But many had heard Lepage's confession and seen the look that it brought -to Natcheff's face. - -Stenovics and Stafnitz rode back from the Palace to the city side by -side. The General was silent, immersed in deep thought. Stafnitz smoked -his cigarette with a light, rather mocking smile. At last, when they -were almost opposite the terrace of the Hôtel de Paris, Stenovics spoke. - -"It looks like the handwriting on the wall," he said. - -"Quite so, General," Stafnitz agreed, cheerfully. "But at present -there's no evidence to show to whom, besides the King himself, the -message is addressed." - -"Or what it says?" - -"I think that's plain enough, General. I think it says that the time is -short." - -He watched his companion's face closely now. But Stenovics's mask was -stolid and unmoved; he said nothing; he contented himself with a sullen -grunt. - -"Short for the King!" pursued Stafnitz, with a shake of his head. "Short -for the Prince, perhaps! And certainly, General, uncomfortably short for -us!" - -Stenovics grunted again, and then rode on some while in silence. At -last, just as he was about to part from his companion, he made one -observation: - -"Fortunately Natcheff is a friend of mine; we shall get the best -possible information." - -"That might become of importance, no doubt, General," said Stafnitz, -smiling still. - - - - -VIII - -MONSEIGNEUR'S UNIFORM - - -Dr. Natcheff amply reassured public opinion. What information he gave to -General Stenovics, his friend, is another matter, and remained locked in -that statesman's heart. Publicly and to everybody else, from the Prince -of Slavna downward, he declared that there was no ground for -apprehension, and that the King merely needed rest and change; after a -few days of the former it was proposed to seek the latter by moving the -Court to His Majesty's country-seat at Dobrava--that estate from which -Sophy had been graciously bidden to choose her title. Meanwhile, there -was no reason why the Prince should not carry out his intention, and -proceed to the Castle of Praslok. - -Below Slavna, the main post-road--as has already been stated, there was -no railway at this time--follows the course of the River Krath for about -five miles in a southeasterly direction. It is then carried across the -stream (which continues to trend to the south) by an ancient wooden -bridge, and runs northeast for another fifteen miles, through flat -country, and past prosperous agricultural and pastoral villages, till it -reaches the marshy land bordering Lake Talti. The lake, extending from -this point to the spurs of the mountain-range which forms the frontier, -bars its farther direct progress, and it divides into two branches. The -right prong of the fork continues on the level till it reaches Dobrava, -eight miles from the point of bisection; here it inclines to the -northeast again, and, after some ten miles of steady ascent, crosses the -mountains by St. Peter's Pass, the one carriage-road over the range and -over the frontier. The left prong becomes a steep ascent directly the -bisection has occurred, rising sharply for five miles to the hill on -which the Castle of Praslok stands. Then it runs for another five miles -on a high plateau till it ends at the hill city of Volseni, which stands -on the edge of the plateau, looking down on Lake Talti and across to -Dobrava in the plain opposite. - -Beyond Volseni there is no road in the proper sense, but only cart or -bridle-tracks. Of these the principal and most frequented runs -diagonally across the valley in which Lake Talti lies, is interrupted by -the lake (at that point about a mile and a half wide), and then meets -the road from Dobrava half-way up St. Peter's Pass, and about twenty -miles across-country from Volseni. It thus forms the base of a rough and -irregular triangle of country, with the point where the Slavna road -bisects, the Pass and Volseni marking its three angles. Lake Talti is -set in the middle, backed by a chain of hills continuous everywhere -except at the indentation of the Pass. - -Though so near to Slavna in actual distance, the country is very -different from the fertile river-valley which surrounds the capital; it -is bleak and rough, a land of hill pastures and mountain woods. Its -natural features are reflected in the character of the inhabitants. The -men who count Volseni a local capital are hardier than the men of -Slavna, less given to luxury, less addicted to quarrels and riots, but -considerably more formidable opponents if once they take up arms. For -this reason, no less than on account of their devotion to him, the -Prince did well to choose this country as the recruiting-ground for his -new force of gunners. - -The Prince had been at Praslok for a week when Sophy set out to join him -there. At the last moment, Zerkovitch decided to remain in Slavna, at -least until the Court made its promised move to Dobrava: reassuring as -Dr. Natcheff was, it would do no harm to have a friendly pair of eyes -and ears in the capital so long as the King remained in residence. Thus -the two ladies were accompanied only by Peter Vassip, whom the Prince -had sent to escort them. They set out in a heavy travelling-carriage at -ten in the morning, reckoning to reach the Castle before evening fell; -their progress would never be rapid, and for the last five miles -exceedingly slow. They left the capital in complete tranquillity, and -when Sophy settled her bill at the sign of the Silver Cock, and bade -farewell to old Meyerstein, her landlord, he expressed the hope that she -would soon be back, though, indeed, his poor house was, he feared, no -fit quarters for the Baroness Dobrava. - -"I don't know whether I shall come back here, but I can never forget -your house. I shall always love it in my memory," said Sophy. - -Max von Hollbrandt had obtained leave of absence from his Legation, and -had accompanied the Prince to Praslok. The two were friends, having many -tastes in common, and not least the taste for soldiering. Besides having -the pleasure of his company, the Prince looked to obtain valuable aid -from Max in the task on which he was engaged. The young German was -amused and delighted with his expedition. Praslok is a primitive old -place. It stands on an abrupt mound, or knob, of ground by the -road-side. So steep and sudden is the ascent, that it was necessary to -build a massive causeway of wood--an inclined plane--to lead up from the -road to the gate of the square tower which forms the front of the -building; the causeway has cross-bars at short intervals, to give -foothold to the horses which, in old days, were stabled within the -walls. Recently, however, modern stables had been built on the other -side of the road, and it had become the custom to mount the causeway and -enter the Castle on foot. - -Within, the arrangements were quaint and very simple. Besides the tower -already mentioned, which contained the dining-room and two bedrooms -above it, the whole building, strictly conditioned by the shape of the -hill on which it stood, consisted of three rows of small rooms on the -ground-floor. In one row lived the Prince and his male guests, in the -second the servants, in the third the guard. The ladies were to be -accommodated in the tower above the dining-room. The rows of rooms -opened on a covered walk or cloister, which ran round the inner court of -the Castle. The whole was solidly built of gray stone--a business-like -old hill-fortress, strong by reason of its massive masonry and of the -position in which it stood. Considered as a modern residence--it had to -be treated humorously--so Max declared, and found much pleasure in it -from that point of view. The Prince, always indifferent to physical -comfort, and ever averse from luxury, probably did not realize how much -his ancestral stronghold demanded of his guests' indulgence. Old Vassip, -Peter's father, was major-domo--always in his sheepskin coat and high -boots. His old wife was cook. Half a dozen servants completed the -establishment, and of these three were grooms. The horses, in fact, -seemed to Max the only creatures whose comforts were at all on a modern -footing. But the Prince was entirely satisfied, and never so happy -anywhere as at Praslok. He loved the simple, hardy life; he loved even -more, though perhaps less consciously, the sense of being among friends. -He would not yield an inch to court popularity in Slavna; but his heart -went out to meet the unsought devotion of Volseni, the mountain town, -and its surrounding villages. Distant and self-restrained in Slavna, -here he was open, gay, and full of an almost boyish ardor. - -"It's worth coming here, just to see its effect on you," Max told him, -as the two rode back together from Volseni on the day of Sophy's -arrival. They had been at work, and the recruiting promised well. - -The Prince laughed gayly. "Coming here from Slavna is like fresh air -after an oven," he said. "No need to watch your tongue--or other -people's! You can laugh when you like, and frown when you like, without -a dozen people asking what's your motive for doing it." - -"But, really, you shouldn't have chosen a diplomatist for your -companion, sir, if you feel like that." - -"I haven't," he smiled. "I've left the diplomatist down there and -brought the soldier up. And now that the ladies are coming--" - -"Ah, now we must watch our tongues a little bit! Madame Zerkovitch is -very pretty--and the Baroness might make me absolutely poetical!" - -Least prying of men, yet Max von Hollbrandt could not resist sending -with this speech a glance at his companion--the visit of the Baroness -compelled this much tribute to curiosity. But the Prince's face was a -picture of unembarrassed pleasure. - -"Then be poetical! We'll all be poetical!" he cried, merrily. "In the -intervals of drilling, be it understood!" he added, with a laugh. - -Into this atmosphere, physical and moral--the exhilaration of keen -mountain breezes, the brightness of a winter sun, the play of high hopes -and of high spirit--came Sophy, with all her power of enjoying and her -ardor in imagining. Her mind leaped from the sad embraces of the past, -to fly to the arms of the present, to beckon gladly to the future. No -more than this had yet emerged into consciousness; she was not yet -asking how, for good or evil, she stood or was to stand towards the -Prince. Fortune had done wonderful things for her, and was doing more -yet. That was enough, and beyond that, for the moment, she was not -driven. - -The mixture of poetry and drilling suited her to perfection. She got -both when she rode over to Volseni with the Prince. Crisp snow covered -the ground, and covered, too, the roofs of the old, gray, hill-side -city--long, sloping roofs, with here and there a round-tower with a -snow-clad extinguisher atop. The town was no more than one long street, -which bayed out at the farther end into a market-place. It stood with -its back against a mountain-side, defended on the other three sides by a -sturdy wall, which only now, after five centuries, began to crumble away -at the top. - -At the city-gate bread and salt were brought to the Bailiff and his -companion, and she and he rode side by side down the long street to the -market-place. Here were two or three hundred, tall, fine fellows, -waiting their leader. Drill had not yet brought formality; on the sight -of him they gave a cheer and ran to form a ring about him. Many caught -his hand and pressed or kissed it. But Sophy, too, claimed their eyes. -It was very cold; she wore a short jacket of sable over her habit, and a -round cap of the same fur--gifts of Lady Meg's in the days of her -benevolence. She was at the pitch of pleasure and excitement. - -In a moment, a quick-witted fellow divined who she was. "The lady who -saved him! The lady who saved him!" he cried, at the full pitch of his -voice. The Prince drew himself up in the saddle and saluted her. "Yes, -the lady who saved me," he said. Sophy had the cheers now, and they -mounted to her head with fumes of intoxication. It may be guessed how -the Red Star glowed! - -"And you'll save him, if need be?" she cried--quite indiscreetly. The -Prince smiled and shook his head, but the answer was an enraptured -cheer. The hatred of Slavna was a recommendation to Volseni's increased -regard, the hint of danger a match to its fiery enthusiasm. - -"A favor, Bailiff, a favor!" cried a young man of distinguished -appearance. He seemed to be well known and to carry weight, for there -were shouts of "Hear Lukovitch! Hear Lukovitch!"--and one called, with a -laugh: "Ay, listen to the Wolf!" - -"What is it, Lukovitch?" asked the Prince. - -"Make the lady of our company, Bailiff." New cheers were raised. "Make -her a lieutenant of our artillery." - -Sophy laughed gayly. - -"I have His Majesty's authority to choose my officers," said the Prince, -smiling. "Baroness, will you be a lieutenant, and wear our sheepskins in -place of your sables there?" - -"It is your uniform, Monseigneur," Sophy answered, bowing her head. - -Lukovitch sprang forward and kissed her hand. - -"For our Bailiff's preserver as for our Bailiff, men of Volseni!" he -cried, loudly. The answering cheer brought tears to Sophy's sparkling -eyes. For a moment she could not see her Prince nor the men who thus -took her to their hearts. - -Suddenly, in the midst of her exultation, she saw a face on the -outskirts of the throng. A small, spare man stood there, dressed in -unobtrusive tweeds, but making no effort to conceal himself; he was just -looking on, a stranger to the town, interested in the picturesque little -scene. The face was that of Lieutenant Rastatz. - -She watched the drilling of the gunners, and then rode back with the -Prince, escorted beyond the gates by a cheering throng, which had now -been joined by many women. Dusk was falling, and the old, gray city took -on a ghostly look; the glory of the sunshine had departed. Sophy -shivered a little beneath her furs. - -"Monseigneur, did you see Rastatz?" she asked. - -"No, I didn't see him; but I knew he was here. Lukovitch told me -yesterday." - -"And not in uniform!" - -"He has leave, no doubt, and his uniform wouldn't make his stay in -Volseni any more pleasant." - -"What's he there for?" she asked, fretfully. - -"Ah, Baroness, you must inquire of those who sent him, I think." His -tone was light and merry. - -"To spy on you, I suppose! I hate his being there. He--he isn't worthy -to be in dear Volseni." - -"You and Volseni have fallen in love with each other, I see! As for -spying, all I'm doing I do openly, and all I shall do. But I don't -blame Stenovics for keeping an eye on me, or Stafnitz either. I do my -best to keep an eye on them, you know. We needn't be afraid of Rastatz, -we who have beaten Hercules Mistitch in open fight!" - -"Oh, well, away with him!" cried Sophy. "The snow's not frozen--shall we -canter home, Monseigneur?" - -Merrily they cantered through the fast falling evening, side by side. -Rastatz was out of mind now; all was out of mind save the fascination of -the crisp air, the silent suggestion of gathering night, her Prince who -rode beside her. The dark mass of the tower of Praslok rose too soon -before her unwilling eyes. She drew rein, sighing. - -"If life were just all that and nothing else!" she said, as he helped -her to dismount and the grooms took the horses. She stopped half-way up -the steep wooden causeway and turned to look back towards Volseni. The -Prince stood close by her. - -"That's good, but life has better things," he said, softly. "To ride -together is good, and to play together. But to work together is better -still, Baroness." - -For a moment Sophy was silent. Then she laughed in joy. - -"Well, I'm to wear your uniform henceforth, Monseigneur!" - -He took her hand and kissed it. Very slowly and gradually she drew it -away, her eyes meeting his as he raised his head. The heavy door at the -top of the causeway opened; Marie Zerkovitch stood there, holding a lamp -high in her hand; the sudden light flooded their faces. For a moment -more he looked at her, then went down again on his way to the stables. -Sophy ran up to where Marie Zerkovitch stood. - -"You heard our horses?" she asked, gayly. - -But there was no responsive smile on Marie's lips. For her, too, the -light had shone on those two faces, and she was sorely troubled. - -The next day again they rode together, and the next. On the third day, -Sophy rode into Volseni in the sheepskin cap and tunic, a short habit of -blue hiding her leather breeches and coming half-way over her long -boots. The Prince gave her his hand as they rode into the market-place. - -Marie Zerkovitch trembled, Max von Hollbrandt shrugged his shoulders -with a laugh--and little Rastatz drove back to Slavna through the night. -He thought that he had seen enough for his purposes; his report might be -useful in the city on the Krath. - - - - -IX - -COUNTESS ELLENBURG PRAYS - - -In Slavna, Dr. Natcheff continued his reassuring reports until the -public at large was so reassured as to ask for no more reports even of -the most optimistic description. But the state of mind of the few people -behind the scenes was very different. Stafnitz's conclusion held sway -there. The time was short! That was the ruling thought and the governing -fact. It might be very short; and the end might come without warning. -The secret was well kept, but to those to whom he spoke at all Natcheff -spoke openly. The King's life hung on a thread, which the least accident -might break. With perfect quiet and tranquillity he might live a year, -possibly two years; any shock or overstrain would precipitate the end. -Countess Ellenburg and her confidential friends knew this, the King knew -it himself, and Lepage his valet, knew it. There the possession of the -secret stopped. - -The King was gay and courageous; courage, at least, he had never lacked. -He seemed almost indifferent. The best years were over, he said, and why -not an end? An end swift, without pain, without waiting! There was much -to be said for it. Lepage agreed with his master and told him so in his -usual blunt fashion; they agreed together not to cry about it, and the -King went fishing still. But the time was short, and he pushed on his -one great idea with a zeal and an earnestness foreign to his earlier -habit. He would see his son married, or at least betrothed, before he -died; he would see the great marriage in train--the marriage which was -to establish forever the rank and prestige of the House of Stefanovitch. -The Prince of Slavna must set forth on his travels, seeking a wife; the -King even designated a Princess of most unquestionable exaltedness, as -the first object of his son's attentions or pursuit. With an unusual -peremptoriness, and an unusual independence, he sent Stenovics orders to -communicate his wishes directly to the Prince. Stenovics received the -royal memorandum on the day on which Lieutenant Rastatz returned to -Slavna with the fruits of his observation at Volseni in his hand. - -At first sight the King's commands were totally at variance with the -interests of the Ellenburg coterie, and with the progress of their great -plan. They did not want the House of Stefanovitch strengthened and -glorified in the person of its present Heir Apparent. But the matter was -more complicated than a first glance showed. There were the guns to be -considered as well--and the gunners training at Volseni; these would be -sources of strength and prestige to the Prince, not less valuable, more -tangible, than even a great match. And now the Prince was on the spot. -Send him on his travels! The time was short; when the short time ended, -he might be far away. Finally, he might go and yet take nothing by his -journey; the exalted Princess would be hard to win; the King's family -pride might defeat itself by making him pitch his hopes and his claims -too high. - -On the whole the matter was difficult. The three chief conspirators -showed their conviction of this in their characteristic ways. Countess -Ellenburg became more pious than ever; General Stenovics more silent--at -least more prone to restrict his conversation to grunts; Colonel -Stafnitz more gay and interested in life; he, too, was fishing, and in -his favorite waters, and he had hopes of a big rise. - -There was one contingency impossible to overlook. In spite of his -father's orders, the Prince might refuse to go. A knowledge of the state -of the King's health would afford him a very strong excuse, a suspicion -of the plans of the coterie an overpowering motive. The King himself had -foreseen the former danger and feared its effect on his dominant hopes; -by his express command the Prince was kept in ignorance; he had been -amply reassured by Dr. Natcheff. On the latter point the coterie had, -they flattered themselves, nothing to fear. On what ground, then, could -the Prince justify a refusal? His gunners? That would be unwarrantable; -the King would not accept the plea. Did Rastatz's report suggest any -other ground for refusal? If it did, it was one which, to the King's -mind, would seem more unwarrantable still. - -There is no big game without its risk; but after full consideration, -Stenovics and Stafnitz decided that the King's wishes were in their -interest, and should be communicated to the Prince without delay. They -had more chances for them than against them. If their game had its -dangers--well, the time might be very short. - -In these days Countess Ellenburg made a practice of shutting herself up -in her private rooms for as much as two additional hours every day. She -told the King that she sought a quiet time for meditation and prayer. -King Alexis shrugged his shoulders; meditation wouldn't help matters, -and, in face of Dr. Natcheff's diagnosis of the condition of his heart, -he must confess to a serious doubt even about prayer. He had outlived -his love for the Countess, but to the end he found in her a source of -whimsical amusement; divining, if not her ambitions, at least her -regrets; understanding how these regrets, when they became very acute, -had to be met by an access of piety. Naturally they would be acute now, -in view of Natcheff's diagnosis. He thanked her for her concern, and -bade her by all means go and pray. - -What was the stuff of her prayers--the stuff behind the words? No doubt -she prayed for her husband's life. No doubt she prayed for her son's -well-being. Very likely she even prayed that she might not be led into -temptation, or to do anything wrong, by her love for her son; for it was -her theory that the Prince himself would ruin his own chances, and throw -the Crown away. It is not easy always to be sure of conscious -insincerity. - -Yet the devil's advocate would have had small difficulty in placing a -fresh face on her prayers, in exhibiting what lay below the words, in -suggesting how it was that she came forth from her secret devotions, not -happy and tranquillized, but with weary eyes, and her narrow lips -close-set in stern self-control. Her prayer that she might do nothing -wrong was a prayer that the Prince might do nothing right. If that -prayer were granted, sin on her part would become superfluous. She -prayed not to be led into temptation--that sounded quite orthodox; was -she to presume to suggest to Heaven the means by which temptation should -be avoided? - -Stenovics skilfully humored this shade of hypocrisy. When he spoke to -her, there were in his mouth no such words as plans or schemes or hopes -or ambitions--no, nor claims nor rights. It was always, "the -possibilities we are compelled to contemplate"--"the steps we may be -forced into taking"--"the necessities of mere self-defence"--"the -interests of the kingdom"--"the supreme evil of civil strife"--which -last most respectable phrase meant that it was much better to jockey the -Prince out of his throne than to fight him for it. Colonel Stafnitz bit -his lip and gnawed his mustache during these interviews. The Countess -saw--and hated him. She turned back to Stenovics's church-going phrases -and impassive face. Throughout the whole affair the General probably -never once mentioned to her in plain language the one and only object of -all their hopes and efforts. In the result business took rather longer -to transact--the church-going phrases ran to many syllables; but -concessions must be made to piety. Nor was the Countess so singular; we -should often forego what we like best if we were obliged to define it -accurately and aloud. - -After one of these conferences the Countess always prayed; it may be -presumed that she prayed against the misfortune of a cast-iron -terminology. Probably she also urged her views--for prayer is in many -books and mouths more of an argument than a petition--that all marriages -were on one and the same footing, and that Heaven knew naught of a -particular variety named in some countries morganatic. Of the keeping of -contracts, made contrary to the presumed views of Heaven, we are all -aware that Churches--and sometimes States, too--are apt to know or count -nothing. - -Such were the woman and her mind. Some pity may go out to her. In the -end, behind all her prayers, and inspiring them--nay, driving her to -her knees in fear--was the conviction that she risked her soul. When she -felt that, she pleaded that it was for her son's sake. Yet there lay -years between her son and man's estate; the power was for some one -during those years. - -"If I had the Countess's views and temperament, I should grow -potatoes--and, if possible, grow them worse than my neighbors," said -Colonel Stafnitz. "If I lived dully, I should at least die in peace!" - -The King held a very confidential conference. It was to sign his will. -The Countess was there; the little boy, who moved in happy -unconsciousness of all the schemes which centred round him, was sent -into the next room to play with Lepage. Stenovics and Stafnitz were -present as witnesses, and Markart as secretary. The King touched lightly -on his state of health, and went on to express his conviction of the -Prince of Slavna's distinguished consideration for Countess Ellenburg -and fraternal affection for little Alexis. "I go the happier for being -sure of this, gentlemen," he said, to his two counsellors. "But in any -case the Countess and my son are well secured. There will be enough for -you, Charlotte, to live in suitable style, here or abroad, as you -please. My son I wish to stay here and enter my army. I've settled on -him the estate of Dobrava, and he will have means equal to his station. -It's well to have this arranged; from day to day I am in the hands of -God." - -As with another King, nothing in life became him like the leaving of it. -There was little more work to do--he had but to wait with courage and -with dignity. The demand now was on what he had in abundance, not on a -faculty which he had always lacked. He signed the document, and bade the -General and Stafnitz witness it. In silence they obeyed him, meaning to -make waste-paper of the thing to which they set their names. - -That business done--and the King alone seemed happy in the doing of it -(even Stafnitz had frowned)--the King turned suddenly to Stenovics. - -"I should like to see Baroness Dobrava. Pray let her be sent for this -afternoon." - -The shock was sudden, but Stenovics's answer came steady, if slow. - -"Your Majesty desires her presence?" - -"I want to thank her once again, Stenovics. She's done much for us." - -"The Baroness is not in Slavna, sir, but I can send for her." - -"Not in Slavna? Where is she, then?" - -He asked what the whole kingdom knew. Save himself, nobody was ignorant -of Sophy's whereabouts. - -"She is on a visit to his Royal Highness at Praslok, sir." Stenovics's -voice was a triumph of neutrality. - -"On a visit to the Prince?" Surprise sounded in his voice. - -"Madame Zerkovitch is there too, sir," Stenovics added. "The ladies have -been there during the whole of the Prince of Slavna's stay." - -The King shot a glance at Countess Ellenburg; she was looking prim and -grim. He looked, also, at Stafnitz, who bit his mustache, without quite -hiding an intentional but apparently irrepressible smile. The King did -not look too grave--and most of his gravity was for Countess Ellenburg. - -"Is that--hum--at this moment, quite desirable?" he asked. - -His question met with silence; the air of all three intimated that the -matter was purely one for His Majesty. The King sat a moment with a -frown on his brow--the frown which just supplants a smile when a thing, -generally amusing and not unnatural, happens by chance to occur -inconveniently. - -Across this silence came a loud voice from the next room--Lepage's -voice. "Take care, take care! You'll upset the flowers, Prince!" - -The King started; he looked round at his companions. Then he struck a -hand-bell on the table before him. Lepage appeared. - -"Lepage, whom did you address as 'Prince' just now?" - -"Count Alexis, sir." - -"Why?" - -"The Count insisted." - -"Don't do it again. It's absurd! Go away!" - -A dull red patched Countess Ellenburg's cheeks. Lids brooded low over -the eyes of Stafnitz and of Stenovics. It was a very awkward little -scene--the King's irritation had got the better of him for the moment. -What would the kindred of the exalted Princess have said? The King -turned to Countess Ellenburg and forced a smile. - -"The question of reproof is one for you, Countess," he said, frigidly. -"And now about the Baroness--No, I mean, I wanted to ask if my wishes -have been communicated to the Prince of Slavna." - -"The Prince has received them, sir. He read them in the presence of my -messenger, and requested leave to send his answer in writing, unless he -might wait on Your Majesty." - -"There are reasons why I had better not see him just now. Ask him to -write--but very soon. The matter isn't one for delay." The King rose -from his seat. - -"Your Majesty still wishes me to send for Baroness Dobrava?" - -The King reflected for a moment, and answered simply: "No." - -His brief word broke up the conference--it had already lasted longer -than suave and reassuring Dr. Natcheff would have advised. The men went -away with a smile, all of them--the King, Stenovics, Stafnitz, -round-faced Markart--each smiling according to the quality of each, -their smiles answering to Max von Hollbrandt's shrug of the shoulders. -There are things which bring men to what painful youth was taught to -call the least common denominator. A horse-race does it, a prize-fight, -a cricket-match, a battle, too, in some sort. Equally efficacious, very -often, though it is to be recorded with reluctance, is a strong -flirtation with no proper issue obvious. - -The matter was grave, yet all the men laughed. The matter was grave, and -Countess Ellenburg did not laugh. Was that what Stafnitz called her -views and her temperament? In part, no doubt. Besides, men will laugh at -the side-issues of the gravest affairs; it is not generally the case -with woman. Added again to this, perhaps Countess Ellenburg knew more, -or divined more. Among glaring diversity there was, perhaps, -something--an atom--of similarity between her and Sophy--not the -something which refuses, but the something which couples high conditions -with assent. The thousandth chance is to most men negligible; to most -women it is no worse than the tenth; their sense of mathematical odds is -sorely--and sometimes magnificently--imperfect. - -It had flashed across Countess Ellenburg's mind that maybe Sophy, too, -played for a big stake--or, rather, lived for it and so would die. The -men had not thought of that; to them, the violent flirtation had its -obvious end and its passing inconvenience. It might delay the Prince's -departure for a while; it might make his marriage more entirely an -affair of duty and of state. With this idea they smiled and shrugged; -the whole business came under the head which, in their thoughts and -their confidential conversations, they would style nonsense. - -It was not so with the Countess. Disconcerted by that episode of Lepage -and young Alexis, more moved by the sudden appearance of Baroness -Dobrava as a factor in the game, she returned to prayer. - -What now was the form and matter of her prayer? The form must go -unformulated--and the words unconjectured. Yet she prayed so long that -she must have succeeded in putting a good face on her petitions. Without -a plausible plea nobody could have rested on their knees so long. - -It is probable that she prayed for others as she prayed for herself--she -prayed that the Prince of Slavna and the Baroness Dobrava might escape -temptation. - -Or that, if they fell--? Again it was not for her to dictate to Heaven. -Heaven had its ways of dealing with such sinners. - -Yet through all her prayers must have echoed the words: "It's absurd!" -She prayed again, most likely, against being suspected of wishing that -the man who uttered them--her husband--might soon be dead. - -The King dead--and the Prince a slave to love--to the idle hours of an -unprofitable love! It was a fine vision, and needed a vast deal of -covering with the veil of prayer. - - - - -X - -THE SOUND OF A TRUMPET - - -The Prince of Slavna's answer to the intimation of his father's wishes -was dutiful, courteous, and discreetly diplomatic. The Prince was much -occupied with his drills and other occupations; he availed himself of -Max von Hollbrandt's practised pen--the guest was glad to do his royal -host this favor. - -They talked over the sense of the reply; Max then draughted it. The -Prince did no more than amend certain expressions which the young -diplomatist had used. Max wrote that the Prince cordially sympathized -with the King's wishes; the Prince amended to the effect that he -thoroughly understood them. Max wrote that the Prince was prepared -cordially and energetically to co-operate in their realization; the -Prince preferred to be prepared to consider them in a benevolent spirit. -Max suggested that two or three months' postponement of the suggested -journey would not in itself be fatal; the Prince insisted that such a -delay was essential, in order that negotiations might be set on foot to -ensure his being welcomed with due _empressement_. Max added that the -later date would have an incidental advantage, since it would obviate -the necessity of the Prince's interrupting the important labors on which -he was engaged; the Prince said instead that, in his judgment, it was -essential, in the interests of the kingdom, that the task of training -the artillery should not be interfered with by any other object, however -well worthy of consideration that object might be. - -In the result, the draught as amended, though not less courteous or -dutiful than Max's original, was noticeably more stiff. Translate them -both into the terse and abrupt speech of every-day life, and one said: -"I'd rather not, please," while the other came at least very near to a -blank "I won't!" Max's was acquiescence, coupled with a prayer for -postponement; the Prince's was postponement first, with an accompanying -assurance of respectful consideration. - -Max was not hurt, but he felt a professional disapproval; the Prince had -said more, and shown more of his mind, than was needful; it was throwing -more cards on the table than the rules of the game demanded. - -"Mine would have done just as well," he complained to Marie Zerkovitch. -"If mine had been rejected, his could have followed. As it is, he's -wasted one or other of them. Very foolish, since just now time's his -main object!" He did not mean saving time, but protracting it. - -Marie did no more than toss her head peevishly. The author of the -original draught persevered. - -"Don't you think mine would have been much wiser--to begin with?" - -"I don't see much difference. There's little enough truth in either of -them!" she snapped. - -Max looked at her with an amused and tolerant smile. He knew quite well -what she meant. He shook his head at her with a humorous twinkle. "Oh, -come, come, don't be exacting, madame! There's a very fair allowance of -truth. Quite half the truth, I should think. He is really very anxious -about the gunners!" - -"And about what else?" - -Max spread out his hands with a shrug, but passed the question by. "So -much truth, in fact, that it would have served amply for at least two -letters," he remarked, returning to his own special point of complaint. - -Marie might well amuse the easy-going, yet observant and curious, young -man; he loved to watch his fellow-creatures under the stress of feelings -from which he himself was free, and found in the opportunities afforded -him in this line the chief interest both of his life and of his -profession. - -But Marie had gradually risen to a high, nervous tension. She was no -puritan--puritans were not common in Kravonia, nor had Paris grafted -such a slip onto her nature. Had she thought as the men in the Palace -thought when they smiled, had she thought that and no more, it is -scarcely likely that she would have thus disturbed herself; after all, -such cases are generally treated as in some sense outside the common -rules; exceptional allowances are, in fact, whether properly or not, -made for exceptional situations. Another feeling was in her mind--an -obsession which had come almost wholly to possess her. The fateful -foreboding which had attacked her from the first had now full dominion -over her; its rule was riveted more closely on her spirit day by day, as -day by day the Prince and Sophy drew closer together. Even that Sophy -had once saved his life could now no longer shake Marie's doleful -prepossession. Unusual and unlooked-for things take color from the mind -of the spectator; the strange train of events which had brought Sophy -to Praslok borrowed ominous shadows from a nervous, apprehensive -temperament. - -No such gloom brooded over Sophy. She gave herself up to the hour: the -past forgotten, the future never thought of. It was the great time of -her life. Her feelings, while not less spontaneous and fresh, were more -mature and more fully satisfied than when Casimir de Savres poured his -love at her feet. A cry of happiness almost lyrical runs through her -scanty record of these days--there was little leisure for diary or -letters. - -Winter was melting into spring, snow dwelled only on the hill-tops, Lake -Talti was unbound and sparkled in the sun; the days grew longer, yet -were far too short. To ride with him to Volseni, to hear the cheers, to -see the love they bore him, to watch him at work, to seem to share the -labor and the love--then to shake off the kindly clinging friends and -take to a mountain-path, or wander, the reins on the horses' necks, by -the margin of the lake, and come home through the late dusk, talking -often, silent often, always together in thought as in bodily -presence--was not this enough? "If I had to die in a month, I should owe -life a tremendous debt already"--that is her own summing up; it is -pleasant to remember. - -It would be enough to say--love; enough with a nature ardent as hers. -Yet, with love much else conspired. There was the thought of what she -had done, of the things to which she was a party; there was the sense of -power, the satisfaction of ambition, a promise of more things; there was -the applause of Volseni as well as the devotion of the Prince; there -was, too--it persisted all through her life--the funny, half-childish, -and (to a severe eye) urchin-like pleasure in the feeling that these -were fine doings for Sophy Grouch, of Morpingham in Essex! "Fancy _me_!" -is the indefensibly primitive form in which this delight shows in one of -the few letters bearing date from the Castle of Praslok. - -Yet it is possible to find this simple, gracious surprise at Fortune's -fancies worthy of love. Her own courage, her own catching at Fortune's -forelock, seem to have been always unconscious and instinctive. These -she never hints at, nor even begins to analyze. Of her love for the -Prince she speaks once or twice--and once in reference to what she had -felt for Casimir. "I loved him most when he left me, and when he died," -she writes. "I love him not less now because I love Monseigneur. But I -can love Monseigneur more for having loved Casimir. God bade the dear -dead die, but He bade me live, and death helped to teach me how to do -it." Again she reflects: "How wonderfully everything is _worth -while_--even sorrows!" Following which reflection, in the very next line -(she is writing to Julia Robins), comes the naïve outburst: "I look just -splendid in my sheepskin tunic--and he's given me the sweetest toy of a -revolver; that's in case they ever charge, and try and cut us up behind -our guns!" She is laughing at herself, but the laugh is charged with an -infectious enjoyment. So she lived, loved, and laughed through those -unequalled days, trying to soothe Marie Zerkovitch, bantering Max von -Hollbrandt, giving her masculine mind and her feminine soul wholly to -her Prince. "She was like a singularly able and energetic sunbeam," Max -says quaintly, himself obviously not untouched by her attractions. - -The Prince's mind was simple. He was quite sincere about his guns; he -had no wish to go on his travels until they had arrived, and he could -deliver them into the safe custody of his trained and trusty Volsenians, -and of Lukovitch their captain. Less than that was not safety, with -Stenovics in office and Colonel Stafnitz on duty at the capital. But -Marie Zerkovitch was right, too, even though over-exacting, as Max had -told her. The letter to the King held but half the truth, and that half -not the more significant. He could not go from Sophy's side to seek a -wife. The desire of his heart and the delight of his eyes--she was here -in Praslok. - -Her charm was not only for his heart and eyes, her fascination not -solely for his passion; on his intellect also she laid her powerful -hold, opening the narrow confines of his mind to broader views, and -softening the rigor of his ideals. He had seen himself only as the stern -master, the just chastiser of a turbulent capital and an unruly -soldiery. But was there not a higher aim? Might he not be loved in the -plains as on the hills, at Slavna as at Volseni? - -By himself he could not achieve that; his pride--nay, his -obstinacy--forbade the first step. But what his sensitive dignity -rejected for himself, he could see her sunny graciousness accomplish -without loss of self-respect, naturally, all spontaneously. He was a -soldier; hers were the powers of peace, of that instinctive -statesmanship of the emotions by which hearts are won and kingdoms knit -together by a tie stronger than the sword. Because in his mind's eye he -saw her doing this, the idea at which the men in the Palace had smiled, -and which even Marie Zerkovitch would have accepted as the lesser evil, -never came into his head. In the future years she was to be openly at -his side, doing these things for him and for the land of his love and -labor. Would she not be a better partner than some stranger, to whom he -must go cap in hand, to whom his country would be a place of exile and -his countrymen seem half-barbarians, whose life with him would be one -long tale of forced and unwilling condescension? A pride more subtle -than his father's rose in revolt. - -If he could make the King see that! There stood the difficulty. Right in -the way of his darling hope was the one thing on which the King -insisted. The pride of family--the great alliance--the single point -whereon the easy King was an obstacle so formidable! Yet had he -despaired, he would have been no such lover as he was. - -His answer had gone to the King; there was no news of its reception yet. -But on the next day, in the evening, great tidings came from Slavna, -forwarded by Zerkovitch, who was in charge of the Prince's affairs -there. The Prince burst eagerly into the dining-room in the tower of -Praslok, where Sophy sat alone. He seemed full of triumphant excitement, -almost boyish in his glee. It is at such moments that hesitations are -forgotten and the last reserves broken down. - -"My guns!" he cried. "My guns! They've started on their way. They're due -in Slavna in a month!" - -"In a month!" she murmured softly. "Ah, then--" - -"Our company will be ready, too. We'll march down to Slavna and meet the -guns!" He laughed. "Oh, I'll be very pleasant to Slavna now--just as you -advise me. We'll meet them with smiles on our faces." He came up to her -and laid his hand on hers. "You've done this for me," he said, smiling -still, yet growing more grave. - -"It'll be the end of this wonderful time, of this our time together!" - -"Of our time at Praslok--not of our time together. What, won't -Lieutenant Baroness Dobrava march with her battery?" - -She smiled doubtfully, gently shaking her head. "Perhaps! But when we -get to Slavna--? Oh, I'm sorry that this time's so nearly done!" - -He looked at her gravely for a few moments, making, perhaps, a last -quick calculation--undergoing, perhaps, a last short struggle. But the -Red Star glowed against the pallor of her face; her eyes were gleaming -beacons. - -"Neither the guns, nor the men, nor Slavna--no, nor the Crown, when that -time comes--without you!" he said. - -She rose slowly, tremblingly, from her chair, and stretched out her -hands in an instinctive protest: "Monseigneur!" Then she clasped her -hands, setting her eyes on his, and whispering again, yet lower: -"Monseigneur!" - -"Marie Zerkovitch says Fate sent you to Kravonia. I think she's right. -Fate did--my fate. I think it's fated that we are to be together to the -end, Sophy." - -A step creaked on the old stairs. Marie Zerkovitch was coming down from -her room on the floor above. The door of the dining-room stood open, but -neither of them heard the step; they were engrossed, and the sound -passed unheeded. - -Standing there with hands still clasped, and eyes still bound to his, -she spoke again--and Marie Zerkovitch stood by the door and heard the -quick yet clear words, herself fascinated, unable to move or speak. - -"I've meant nothing of it. I've thought nothing of it. I seem to have -done nothing towards it. It has just come to me." Her tone took on a -touch of entreaty, whether it were to him, or to some unseen power -which ruled her life, and to which she might have to render an account. - -"Yet it is welcome?" he asked quietly. She was long in answering; he -waited without impatience, in a confidence devoid of doubt. She seemed -to seek for the whole truth and to give it to him in gravest, fullest -words. - -"It is life, Monseigneur," she said. "I can't see life without it now." - -He held out his hands, and very slowly she laid hers in them. - -"It is enough--and nothing less could have been enough from you to me -and from me to you," he said gently. "Unless we live it together, I -think it can be no life for us now." - -The chain which had held Marie Zerkovitch motionless suddenly snapped. -She rushed into the room, and, forgetful of everything in her agitation, -seized the Prince by the arm. - -"What do you mean?" she cried. "What do you mean? Are you mad?" - -He was very fond of little Marie. He looked down at her now with an -affectionate, indulgent smile. - -"Come, you've heard what I said, I suppose--though it wasn't meant for -your ears, you know! Well, then, I mean just what I said, Marie." - -"But what do you mean by it?" she persisted in a feverish, almost -childish, excitement. She turned on Sophy, too. "And what do you mean by -it, Sophy?" she cried. - -Sophy passed a hand across her brow. A slow smile relieved the enchanted -tension of her face; she seemed to smile in a whimsical surprise at -herself. Her answer to Marie came vague and almost dreamy. "I--I -thought of nothing, dear Marie," she said; then with a sudden low murmur -of delighted laughter she laid her hands in the Prince's again. She had -thought of nothing but of that life together and their love. - -"She'll share my life, Marie, and, when the time comes, my throne," the -Prince said softly: he tried to persuade and soothe her with his gentle -tones. - -Marie Zerkovitch would not have it. Possessed by her old fear, her old -foreboding, she flung away the arm she held with an angry gesture. "It's -ruin!" she cried. "Ruin, ruin!" Her voice rang out through the old room -and seemed to fill all the Castle of Praslok with its dirgeful note. - -"No," said he firmly. "Ruin will not come through me, nor through her. -It may be that ruin--what you call ruin--will come. It may be that I -shall lose my life or my throne." He smiled a little. "Such changes and -chances come as nothing new to a Stefanovitch. I have clever and bold -men against me. Let them try! We'll try, too. But ruin will not be by -her fault, nor through this. And if it were, don't I owe her my life -already? Should I refuse to risk for her the life she has given?" He -dropped his voice to homelier, more familiar tones, and ended, with a -half-laugh: "Come, little friend, you mustn't try to frighten Sergius -Stefanovitch. It's better the House should end than live on in a coward, -you know." - -The plea was not perfect--there was wisdom as well as courage in -question. Yet he would have maintained himself to be right in point of -wisdom, too, had Marie pressed him on it. But her force was spent; her -violence ended, and with it her expostulations. But not her terror and -dismay. She threw herself into a chair and covered her face with her -hands, sobbing bitterly. - -The Prince gently caressed her shaking shoulder, but he raised his eyes -to Sophy, who had stood quiet through the scene. - -"Are you ready for what comes, Sophy?" he asked. - -"Monseigneur, I am ready," she said, with head erect and her face set. -But the next instant she broke into a low yet rich and ringing laugh; it -mingled strangely with Marie's sobs, which were gradually dying away, -yet sounded still, an undertone of discord with Sophy's mirth. She -stretched out her hands towards him again, whispering in an amused pity: -"Poor child--she thought that we should be afraid!" - -Out from the dusk of the quiet evening came suddenly the blare of a -trumpet, blown from Volseni by a favoring breeze. It sounded every -evening, at nightfall, to warn the herdsmen in the hills of the closing -of the gates, and had so sounded from time beyond man's memory. - -The Prince raised his hand to bid her listen. - -"In good Volseni there is watch and ward for us!" - -The echoes of the blast rang for an instant round the hills. - -"And there is watch and ward, and the glad sound of a trumpet, in my -heart, Monseigneur," she said. - -The sobs were still, laughter was hushed, the echoes died away. In utter -silence their hands and their eyes met. Only in their hearts love's -clarion rang indomitable and marvellously glad. - - - - -XI - -M. ZERKOVITCH'S BEDROOM FIRE - - -Often there are clever brains about us of whose workings we care -nothing, save so far as they serve to the defter moving of our dishes or -the more scientific brushing and folding of our clothes. Humorists and -philosophers have described or conjectured or caricatured the world of -those who wait on us, inviting us to consider how we may appear to the -inward gaze of the eyes which are so obediently cast down before ours or -so dutifully alert to anticipate our orders. As a rule, we decline the -invitation; the task seems at once difficult and unnecessary. Enough to -remember that the owners of the eyes have ears and mouths also! A small -leak, left unstanched, will empty the largest cask at last; it is well -to keep that in mind both in private concerns and in affairs of public -magnitude. - -The King's body-servant, Emile Lepage, had been set a-thinking. This was -the result of the various and profuse scoldings which he had undergone -for calling young Count Alexis "Prince." The King's brief, sharp words -at the conference had been elaborated into a reproof both longer and -sterner than his Majesty was wont to trouble himself to administer; he -had been very strong on the utter folly of putting such ideas into the -boy's head. Lepage was pretty clear that the idea had come from the -boy's head into his, but he said nothing more of that. The boy himself -scolded Lepage--first for having been overheard, secondly (and, as -Lepage guessed, after being scolded himself very roundly) for using the -offending title at all. Meekly Lepage bore this cross also--indeed, with -some amusement, and a certain touch of pity for young Alexis, who was -not a prince and obviously could not make out why: in the books a king's -sons were always princes, even though there were (as in those glorious -days there often were) fifty or threescore of them. - -Then Countess Ellenburg scolded him: the King's "It's absurd!" was -rankling sorely in her mind. Her scolding was in her heaviest -manner--very religious: she called Heaven to witness that never, by word -or deed, had she done anything to give her boy such a notion. The days -are gone by when Heaven makes overt present answer; nothing happened! -She roundly charged Lepage with fostering the idea for his own purposes; -he wanted to set the Prince of Slavna against his little brother, she -supposed, and to curry favor with the rising sun at the poor child's -cost. - -She was very effective, but she angered Lepage almost beyond endurance. -By disposition he was thoroughly good-natured, if sardonic and -impassive; he could not suffer the accusation of injuring the pretty boy -for his own ends; it was both odious and absurd. He snapped back smartly -at her: "I hope nobody will do more to put wrong ideas in his head than -I have done, Madame la Comtesse." In a fury she drove him from the room. -But she had started ever so slightly. Lepage's alert brain jumped at the -signal. - -Finally, Stenovics himself had a lecture for poor, much-lectured Lepage. -It was one of the miscalculations to which an over-cautious cunning is -prone. Stenovics was gentle and considerate, but he was very -urgent--urgent, above all, that nothing should be said about the -episode, neither about it, nor about the other reprimands. Silence, -silence, silence was his burden. Lepage thought more and more. It is -better to put up with gossip than to give the idea that the least gossip -would be a serious offence. People gossip without thinking, it's easy -come and gone, easy speaking and easy forgetting; but stringent -injunctions not to talk are apt to make men think. References to the -rising sun, also, may breed reflection in the satellites of a setting -orb. Neither Countess Ellenburg nor General Stenovics had been as well -advised as usual in this essentially trumpery matter. - -In short, nervousness had been betrayed. Whence came it? What did it -mean? If it meant anything, could Lepage turn that thing to account? The -King's favorite attendant was no favorite with Countess Ellenburg. For -Lepage, too, the time might be very short! He would not injure the boy, -as the angry mother had believed, or at least suggested; but, without -question of that, there was no harm in a man's looking out for himself; -or if there were, Lepage was clear in thinking that the Countess and the -General were not fit preachers of such a highly exacting gospel. - -Lepage concluded that he had something to sell. His wares were a -suspicion and a fact. Selling the suspicion wronged nobody--he would -give no warranty with it--_Caveat emptor_. Selling the fact was -disobedience to the King his master. "Disobedience, yes; injury, no," -said Lepage with a bit of casuistry. Besides, the King, too, had scolded -him. - -Moreover, the Prince of Slavna had always treated Monsieur Emile Lepage -with distinguished consideration. The Bourbon blood, no doubt, stretched -out hands to _la belle France_ in Monsieur Lepage's person. - -Something to sell! Who was his buyer? Whose interest could be won by his -suspicion, whose friendship bought with his fact? The ultimate buyer was -plain enough. But Lepage could not go to Praslok, and he did not approve -of correspondence, especially with Colonel Stafnitz in practical control -of the Household. He sought a go-between--and a personal interview. At -least he could take a walk; the servants were not prisoners. Even -conspirators must stop somewhere--on pain of doing their own cooking and -the rest! At a quarter past eight in the evening, having given the King -his dinner and made him comfortable for the next two hours, Lepage -sallied forth and took the road to Slavna. He was very carefully -dressed, wore a flower in his buttonhole, and had dropped a discreet -hint about a lady, in conversation with his peers. If ladies often -demand excuses, they may furnish them too; present seriousness invoked -aid from bygone frivolity. - -At ten o'clock he returned, still most spruce and orderly, and with a -well satisfied air about him. He had found a purchaser for his suspicion -and his fact. His pocket was the better lined, and he had received -flattering expressions of gratitude and assurances of favor. He felt -that he had raised a buttress against future assaults of Fortune. He -entered the King's dressing-room in his usual noiseless and unobtrusive -manner. He was not aware that General Stenovics had quitted it just a -quarter of an hour before, bearing in his hand a document which he had -submitted for his Majesty's signature. The King had signed it and -endorsed the cover "_Urgent_." - -"Ah, Lepage, where have you been?" asked the King. - -"Just to get a little air and drink a glass at the Golden Lion." - -"You look gayer than that!" smiled the King. Evidently his anger had -passed; perhaps he wished to show as much to an old servant whom he -liked and valued. - -Conscience-stricken--or so appearing--Lepage tore the flower from his -coat. "I beg Your Majesty's pardon. I ought to have removed it before -entering your Majesty's presence. But I was told you wished to retire at -once, sir, so I hurried here immediately." - -The King gave a weary yawn. "Yes, I'll go to bed at once, Lepage; and -let me sleep as long as I can. This fag-end of life isn't very amusing." -He passed his hand wearily across his brow. "My head aches. Isn't the -room very close, Lepage? Open the window." - -"It has begun to rain, sir." - -"Never mind, let's have the rain, too. At least, it's fresh." - -Lepage opened a window which looked over the Krath. The King rose: -Lepage hastened to offer his arm, which his Majesty accepted. They went -together to the window. A sudden storm had gathered; rain was pelting -down in big drops. - -"It looks like being a rough night," remarked the King. - -"I'm afraid it does, sir," Lepage agreed. - -"We're lucky to be going to our beds." - -"Very, sir," answered Lepage, wondering whose opposite fate his Majesty -was pitying. - -"I shouldn't care, even if I were a young man and a sound one, to ride -to Praslok to-night." - -"To Praslok, sir?" There was surprise in Lepage's voice. He could not -help it. Luckily it sounded quite natural to the King. It was certainly -not a night to ride five and twenty miles, and into the hills, unless -your business was very urgent. - -"Yes, to Praslok. I've had my breath of air--you can shut the window, -Lepage." - -The King returned to the fireplace and stood warming himself. Lepage -closed the window, drew the curtains, and came to the middle of the -room, where he stood in respectful readiness--and, underneath that, a -very lively curiosity. - -"Yes," said the King slowly, "Captain Markart goes to Praslok -to-night--with a despatch for his Royal Highness, you know. Business, -Lepage, urgent business! Everything must yield to that." The King -enunciated this virtuous maxim as though it had been the rule of his -life. "No time to lose, Lepage, so the Captain goes to-night. But I'm -afraid he'll have a rough ride--very rough." - -"I'm afraid so, sir," said Lepage, and added, strictly in his thoughts: -"And so will Monsieur Zerkovitch!" - -Captain Markart was entirely of his Majesty's opinion as he set out on -his journey to Praslok. His ride would be rough, dark, and solitary--the -last by Stenovics's order. Markart was not afraid, he was well armed; -but he expected to be very bored, and knew that he would be very wet, by -the time he reached the Castle. He breathed a fervent curse on the -necessities of State, of which the Minister had informed him, as he -buttoned up his heavy cavalry overcoat, and rode across the bridge on to -the main road on the right bank, an hour before midnight. - -Going was very heavy, so was the rain, so was the darkness; he and his -horse made a blurred, laboring shape on the murky face of night. But his -orders were to hasten, and he pushed on at a sharp trot and soon covered -his first stage, the five miles to the old wooden bridge, where the road -leaves the course of the Krath, is carried over the river, and strikes -northeast, towards the hills. - -At this point he received the first intimation that his journey was not -to be so solitary as he had supposed. When he was half-way across the -bridge, he heard what sounded like an echo of the beat of his horse's -hoofs on the timbers behind him. The thing seemed odd. He halted a -moment to listen. The sound of his horse's hoofs stopped--but the echo -went on. It was no echo, then; he was not the only traveller that way! -He pricked his horse with the spur; regaining the road, he heard the -timbers of the bridge still sounding. He touched his horse again and -went forward briskly. He had no reason to associate his -fellow-traveller's errand with his own, but he was sure that when -General Stenovics ordered despatch, he would not be pleased to learn -that his messenger had been passed by another wayfarer on the road. - -But the stranger, too, was in a hurry, it seemed; Markart could not -shake him off. On the contrary, he drew nearer. The road was still broad -and good. Markart tried a canter. The stranger broke into a canter. "At -any rate, it makes for good time," thought Markart, smiling uneasily. In -fact, the two found themselves drawn into a sort of race. On they went, -covering the miles at a quick, sustained trot, exhilarating to the men, -but rather a strain on their horses. Both were well mounted. Markart -wondered who the stranger with such a good horse was. He turned his -head, but could see only the same sort of blur as he himself made; part -of the blur, however, seemed of a lighter color than his dark overcoat -and bay horse produced. - -Markart's horse pecked; his rider awoke to the fact that he was pounding -his mount without doing much good to himself. He would see whether the -unknown meant to pass him or was content to keep on equal terms. His -pace fell to a gentle trot--so did the stranger's. Markart walked his -horse for half a mile--so did the stranger. Thenceforward they went -easily, each keeping his position, till Markart came to where the road -forked--on the right to Dobrava, on the left to Praslok and Volseni. -Markart drew rein and waited; he might just as well see where the -stranger was going. - -The stranger came up--and Markart started violently. The lighter tinge -of the blur was explained. The stranger rode a white horse. It flashed -on Markart that the Prince rode a white charger, and that the animal had -been in Slavna the day before--he had seen it being exercised. He peered -into the darkness, trying to see the man's face; the effort was of no -avail. The stranger came to a stand beside him, and for a few moments -neither moved. Then the stranger turned his horse's head to the left: he -was for Praslok or Volseni, then! Markart followed his example. He knew -why he did not speak to the stranger, but he was wondering why on earth -the stranger did not speak to him. He went on wondering till it occurred -to him that, perhaps, the stranger was in exactly the same state of -mind. - -There was no question of cantering, or even of trotting, now. The road -rose steeply; it was loose and founderous from heavy rain; great stones -lay about, dangerous traps for a careless rider. The horses labored. At -the same moment, with the same instinct, Markart and the stranger -dismounted. The next three miles were done on foot, and there before -them, in deeper black, rose the gate-tower of the Castle of Praslok. The -stranger had fallen a little behind again; now he drew level. They were -almost opposite the Castle. - -A dog barked from the stables. Another answered from the Castle. Two -more took up the tune from the stables; the Castle guardian redoubled -his responsive efforts. A man came running out from the stables with a -lantern; a light flashed in the doorway of the Castle. Both Markart and -the stranger came to a stand-still. The man with the lantern raised it -high in the air, to see the faces of the travellers. - -They saw each other's faces, too. The first result was to send them into -a fit of laughter--a relief from tension, a recognition of the absurdity -into which their diplomatic caution had led them. - -"By the powers, Captain Markart!" - -"Monsieur Zerkovitch, by Heaven!" - -They laughed again. - -"Ah, and we might have had a pleasant ride together!" - -"I should have rejoiced in the solace of your conversation!" - -But neither asked the other why he had behaved in such a ridiculous -manner. - -"And our destination is the same?" asked Zerkovitch. "You stop here at -the Castle?" - -"Yes, yes, Monsieur Zerkovitch. And you?" - -"Yes, Captain, yes; my journey ends at the Castle." - -The men led away their horses, which sorely needed tending, and they -mounted the wooden causeway side by side, both feeling foolish, yet sure -they had done right. In the doorway stood Peter Vassip with his lantern. - -"Your business, gentlemen?" he said. It was between two and three in the -morning. - -They looked at each other; Zerkovitch was quicker, and with a courteous -gesture invited his companion to take precedence. - -"Private and urgent--with his Royal Highness." - -"So is mine, Peter," said Zerkovitch. - -Markart's humor was touched again; he began to laugh. Zerkovitch -laughed, too, but there was a touch of excitement and nervousness in his -mirth. - -"His Royal Highness went to bed an hour ago," said Peter Vassip. - -"I'm afraid you must rouse him. My business is immediate," said Markart. -"And I suppose yours is too, Monsieur Zerkovitch?" he added jokingly. - -"That it is," said Zerkovitch. - -"I'll rouse the Prince. Will you follow me, gentlemen?" - -Peter closed and barred the gate, and they followed him through the -court-yard. A couple of sentries were pacing it; for the rest, all was -still. Peter led them into a small room, where a fire was burning, and -left them together. Side by side they stood close to the fire; each -flung away his coat and tried to dry his boots and breeches at the -comforting blaze. - -"We must keep this story a secret, or we shall be laughed at by all -Slavna, Monsieur Zerkovitch." - -Zerkovitch gave him a sharp glance. "I should think you would report -your discreet conduct to your superiors, Captain. Orders are orders, -secrecy is secrecy, even though it turns out that there was no need for -it." - -Markart was about to reply with a joke when the Prince entered. He -greeted both cordially, showing, of course, in Markart's presence, no -surprise at Zerkovitch's arrival. - -"There will be rooms and food and wine ready for you, gentlemen, in a -few minutes. Captain Markart, you must rest here for to-night, for your -horse's sake as well as your own. I suppose your business will wait till -the morning?" - -"My orders were to lose not a moment in communicating it to you, sir." - -"Very well. You're from his Majesty?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"The King comes first--and I dare say your affair will wait, -Zerkovitch?" - -Zerkovitch protested with an eagerness by no means discreet in the -presence of a third party--an aide-de-camp to Stenovics!--"No, sir, -no--it can't wait an--" - -The Prince interrupted. "Nonsense, man, nonsense! Now go to your room. -I'll come in and bid you 'Good-night.'" He pushed his over-zealous -friend from the room, calling to Peter Vassip to guide him to the -apartment he was to occupy. Then he came back to Markart. "Now, -Captain!" - -Markart took out his letter and presented it with a salute. "Sit down -while I read it," said the Prince, seating himself at the table. - -The Prince read his letter, and sat playing with it in his fingers for -half a minute or so. Then a thought seemed to strike him. "Heavens, I -never told Peter to light fires! I hope he has. You're wet--and -Zerkovitch is terribly liable to take cold." He jumped up. "Excuse me; -we have no bells in this old place, you know." He ran out of the room, -closing the door behind him. - -Markart sprang to the door. He did not dare to open it, but he listened -to the Prince's footsteps. They sounded to the left--one, two, three, -four, five, six paces. They stopped--a door opened and shut. Markart -made a mental note and went back to the fire, smiling. He thought that -idea of his really would please General Stenovics. - -In three minutes the Prince returned. "I did Peter -injustice--Zerkovitch's fire is all right," he said. "And there's a good -one in your room, too, he tells me. And now, Captain Markart, to our -business. You know the contents of the letter you carried?" - -"Yes, sir. They were communicated to me, in view of their urgency, and -in case of accident to the letter." - -"As a matter of form, repeat the gist to me." - -"General Stenovics has to inform your Royal Highness on the King's -behalf that his Majesty sees no need of a personal interview, as his -mind is irrevocably fixed, and he orders your Royal Highness to set out -for Germany within three days from the receipt of this letter. No -pretext is to delay your Royal Highness's departure." - -"Perfectly correct, Captain. To-morrow I shall give you an answer -addressed directly to the King. But I wish now to give you a message to -General Stenovics. I shall ask the King for an audience. Unless he -appoints a time within two days, I shall conclude that he has not had -the letter, or--pray mark this--has not enjoyed an opportunity of -considering it independently. General Stenovics must consider what a -responsibility he undertakes if he advises the King to refuse to see his -son. I shall await his Majesty's answer here. That is the message. You -understand?" - -"Perfectly, sir." - -"Just repeat it. The terms are important." - -Markart obeyed. The Prince nodded his head. "You shall have the letter -for the King early in the morning. Now for bed! I'll show you to your -room." - -They went out and turned to the left. Markart counted their paces. At -six paces they came to a door--and passed it. Four farther on, the -Prince ushered him into the room where he was to sleep. It was evident -that the Prince had made personal inspection of the state of Monsieur -Zerkovitch's fire! - -"Good-night, Captain. By-the-way, the King continues well?" - -"Dr. Natcheff says, sir, that he doesn't think his Majesty was ever -better in his life." - -The Prince looked at him for just a moment with a reflective smile. "Ah, -and a trustworthy man, Natcheff! Good-night!" - -Markart did not see much reason to think that the question, the look, -the smile, and the comment had any significance. But there would be no -harm in submitting the point to General Stenovics. Pondering over this, -he forgot to count the Prince's paces this time. If he had counted, the -sum would have been just four. Monsieur Zerkovitch's fire needed another -royal inspection--it needed it almost till the break of day. - -"The King's life hangs by a hair, and your Crown by a thread." That was -the warning which Lepage had given and Zerkovitch had carried through -the night. - - - - -XII - -JOYFUL OF HEART - - -The storm had passed; day broke calm and radiant over the Castle of -Praslok; sunshine played caressingly on the lake and on the hills. - -Markart had breakfasted and paid a visit to his horse; he wanted to be -off by nine o'clock, and waited only for the Prince's letter. He was -returning from the stables, sniffing the morning air with a vivid -enjoyment of the change of weather, when he saw Sophy coming along the -road. She had been for a walk. Her eyes and cheeks glowed with -exhilaration. She wore her sheepskin tunic, her sheepskin cap with its -red cockade, and her short, blue skirt over high boots. She walked as -though on the clouds of heaven, a wonderful lightness in her tread; the -Red Star signalled the exaltation of her spirit; the glad sound of the -trumpet rang in her heart. - -Her cordial greeting to Markart was spiced with raillery, to which he -responded as well as his ignorance allowed; he was uncertain how much -she knew of the real situation. But if his tongue was embarrassed, his -eyes spoke freely. He could not keep them from her face; to him she -seemed a queen of life and joy that glorious morning. - -"You've recovered from your fright?" she asked. "Poor Monsieur -Zerkovitch is still sleeping his off, I suppose! Oh, the story's all -over the Castle!" - -"It'll be all over the country soon," said Markart with a rueful smile. - -"Well, after all, Monsieur Zerkovitch is a journalist, and journalists -don't spare even themselves, you know. And you're not a reticent person, -are you? Don't you remember all the information you gave me once?" - -"Ah, on the terrace of the Hôtel de Paris! Much has happened since then, -Baroness." - -"Much always happens, if you keep your eyes open," said Sophy. - -"If you keep yours open, nothing happens for me but looking at them." - -She laughed merrily; a compliment never displeased Sophy, and she could -bear it very downright. - -"But if I were to shut my eyes, what would you do then?" - -He looked doubtfully at her mocking face; she meant a little more than -the idle words naturally carried. - -"I don't think you'll give me the chance of considering, Baroness." He -indicated her costume with a gesture of his hand. "You've entered the -service, I see?" - -"Yes, Captain Markart, the King's service. We are brethren--you serve -him, too?" - -"I have that honor." Markart flushed under her laughing scrutiny. - -"We fight shoulder to shoulder then. Well, not quite. I'm a gunner, you -see." - -"Minus your guns, at present!" - -"Not for long!" She turned round and swept her arms out towards the lake -and the hills. "It's a day to think of nothing--just to go riding, -riding, riding!" Her laugh rang out in merry longing. - -"What prevents you?" - -"My military duties, perhaps, Captain," she answered. "You're lucky--you -have a long ride; don't spoil it by thinking!" - -"I think? Oh no, Baroness! I only obey my orders." - -"And they never make you think?" Her glance was quick at him for an -instant. - -"There's danger in thinking too much, even for ladies," he told her. - -She looked at him more gravely, for his eyes were on her now with a -kindly, perhaps a remorseful, look. - -"You mean that for me?" she asked. "But if I, too, only obey my orders?" - -"With all my heart I hope they may lead you into no danger," he said. - -"There's only one danger in all the world--losing what you love." - -"Not, sometimes, gaining it?" he asked quickly. - -"Still, the only danger would be of losing it again." - -"There's life, too," he remarked with a shrug. - -"Sir, we're soldiers!" she cried in merry reproof. - -"That doesn't prevent me from prizing your life, Baroness, in the -interests of a world not too rich in what you contribute to it." - -Sophy looked at him, a subtle merriment in her eyes. "I think, Captain -Markart, that, if you were my doctor, you'd advise me to try--a change -of air! Praslok is too exciting, is that it? But I found Slavna--well, -far from relaxing, you know!" - -"The Kravonian climate as a whole, Baroness--" - -"Oh no, no, that's too much!" she interrupted. Then she said: "It's very -kind of you--yes, I mean that--and it's probably--I don't know--but -probably against your orders. So I thank you. But I can face even the -rigors of Kravonia." - -She held out her hand; he bent and kissed it. "In fact, I hadn't the -least right to say it," he confessed. "Not the least from any point of -view. It's your fault, though, Baroness." - -"Since I'm party to the crime, I'll keep the secret," she promised with -a decidedly kindly glance. To Sophy, admiration of herself always argued -something good in a man; she had none of that ungracious scorn which -often disfigures the smile of beauty. She gave a little sigh, followed -quickly by a smile. - -"We've said all we possibly can to one another, you and I; more than we -could, perhaps! And now--to duty!" She pointed to the door of the -Castle. - -The Prince was coming down the wooden causeway. He, too, wore the -Volseni sheepskins. In his hand he carried a sealed letter. Almost at -the same moment a groom led Markart's horse from the stables. The Prince -joined them and, after a bow to Sophy, handed the letter to Markart. - -"For his Majesty. And you remember my message to General Stenovics?" - -"Accurately, sir." - -"Good!" He gave Markart his hand. "Good-bye--a pleasant ride to you, -Captain--pleasanter than last night's." His grave face broke into a -smile. - -"I'm not to have Monsieur Zerkovitch's company this time, sir?" - -"Why, no, Captain. You see, Zerkovitch left the Castle soon after six -o'clock. Rather a short night, yes, but he was in a hurry." - -Sophy burst into a laugh at the dismay on Markart's face. "We neither of -us knew that, Captain Markart, did we?" she cried. "We thought he was -sleeping off the fright you'd given him!" - -"Your Royal Highness gives me leave--?" stammered Markart, his eye on -his horse. - -"Certainly, Captain. But don't be vexed, there will be no invidious -comparisons. Zerkovitch doesn't propose to report himself to General -Stenovics immediately on his arrival." - -Good-natured Markart joined in the laugh at his own expense. "I'm hardly -awake yet; he must be made of iron, that Zerkovitch!" - -"Quicksilver!" smiled the Prince. As Markart mounted, he added: "Au -revoir!" - -Markart left the two standing side by side--the Prince's serious face -lit up with a rare smile, Sophy's beauty radiant in merriment. His own -face fell as he rode away. "I half wish I was in the other camp," he -grumbled. But Stenovics's power held him--and the fear of Stafnitz. He -went back to a work in which his heart no longer was; for his heart had -felt Sophy's spell. - -"You can have had next to no sleep all night, Monseigneur," said Sophy -in reproach mingled with commiseration. - -"I don't need it; the sight of your face refreshes me. We must talk. -Zerkovitch brought news." - -In low, grave tones he told her the tidings, and the steps which he and -Zerkovitch had taken. - -"I understand my father's reasons for keeping me in the dark; he meant -it well, but he was blinded by this idea about my marriage. But I see, -too, how it fitted in with Stenovics's ideas. I think it's war between -us now--and I'm ready." - -Sophy was almost dazed. The King's life was not to be relied on for a -week--for a day--no, not for an hour! But she listened attentively. -Zerkovitch had gone back to Slavna on a fresh horse and at top speed; he -would have more than two hours' lead of Markart. His first duty was to -open communications with Lepage and arrange that the valet should send -to him all the information which came to his ears, and any impressions -which he was able to gather in the Palace. Zerkovitch would forward the -reports to Praslok immediately, so long as the Prince remained at the -Castle. But the Prince was persuaded that his father would not refuse to -see him, now that he knew the true state of the case. "My father is -really attached to me," he said, "and if I see him, I'm confident that I -can persuade him of the inexpediency of my leaving the kingdom just now. -A hint of my suspicions with regard to the Countess and Stenovics would -do it; but I'm reluctant to risk giving him such a shock. I think I can -persuade him without." - -"But is it safe for you to trust yourself at Slavna--in the Palace? And -alone?" - -"I must risk the Palace alone--and I'm not much afraid. Stenovics might -go to war with me, but I don't think he'd favor assassination. And to -Slavna I sha'n't go alone. Our gunners will go with us, Sophy. We have -news of the guns being on the way; there will be nothing strange in my -marching the gunners down to meet them. They're only half-trained, even -in drill, but they're brave fellows. We'll take up our quarters with -them in Suleiman's Tower. I don't fear all Slavna if I hold Suleiman's -Tower with three hundred Volsenians. Stafnitz may do his worst!" - -"Yes, I see," she answered, thoughtfully. "I can't come with you to -Suleiman's Tower, though." - -"Only if there are signs of danger. Then you and Marie must come; if all -is quiet, you can stay in her house. We can meet often--as often as -possible. For the rest, we must wait." - -She saw that they must wait. It was impossible to approach the King on -the matter of Sophy. It cut dead at the heart of his ambition; it would -be a shock as great as the discovery of Countess Ellenburg's ambitions. -It could not be risked. - -"But if, under Stenovics's influence, the King does refuse to see you?" -she asked--"Refuses to see you, and repeats his orders?" - -The Prince's face grew very grave, but his voice was firm. - -"Not even the King--not even my father--can bid me throw away the -inheritance which is mine. The hand would be the King's, but the voice -the voice of Stenovics. I shouldn't obey; they'd have to come to Volseni -and take me." - -Sophy's eyes kindled. "Yes, that's right!" she said. "And for to-day?" - -"Nothing will happen to-day--unless, by chance, the thing which we now -know may happen any day; and of that we shouldn't hear till evening. And -there's no drill even. I sent the men to their homes on forty-eight -hours' furlough yesterday morning." His face relaxed in a smile. "I -think to-day we can have a holiday, Sophy." - -She clapped her hands in glee. "Oh, Monseigneur, a holiday!" - -"It may be the last for a long time," he said; "so we must enjoy it." - -This day--this holiday which might be the last--passed in a fine -carelessness and a rich joy in living. The cloudless sky and the -glittering waters of Lake Talti were parties to their pleasure, whether -as they rode far along the shore, or sat and ate a simple meal on the -rock-strewn margin. Hopes and fears, dangers and stern resolves, were -forgotten; even of the happier issues which the future promised, or -dangled before their eyes, there was little thought or speech. The blood -of youth flowed briskly, the heart of youth rose high. The grave Prince -joked, jested, and paid his court; Sophy's eyes gleamed with the fun as -not even the most exalted and perilous adventure could make them -sparkle. - -"Oh, it's good," she cried--"good to live and see the sun! Monseigneur, -I believe I'm a pagan--a sun-worshipper! When he's good enough to warm -me through, and to make the water glitter for me, and shadows dance in -such a cunning pattern on the hills, then I think I've done something -that he likes, and that he's pleased with me!" She sprang to her feet -and stretched out her hands towards the sun. "In the grave, I believe, I -shall remember the glorious light; my memory of that could surely never -die!" - -His was the holiday mood, too. He fell in with her extravagance, meeting -it with banter. - -"It's only a lamp," he said, "just a lamp; and it's hung there for the -sole purpose of showing Sophy's eyes. When she's not there, they put it -out--for what's the use of it?" - -"They put it out when I'm not there?" - -"I've noticed it happen a dozen times of late." - -"It lights up again when I come, Monseigneur?" - -"Ah, then I forget to look!" - -"You get very little sun anyhow, then!" - -"I've something so much better." - -It is pathetic to read--pathetic that she should have set it down as -though every word of it were precious--set it down as minutely as she -chronicled the details of the critical hours to which fate was soon to -call her. - -Yet, was she wrong? Days of idleness are not always the emptiest; life -may justify its halts; our spirits may mount to their sublimest pitch in -hours of play. At least, the temper of that holiday, and her eager -prizing and recording of it, show well the manner of woman that she -was--her passionate love of beauty, her eager stretching out to all that -makes life beautiful, her spirit, sensitive to all around, taking color -from this and that, reflecting back every ray which the bounty of nature -or of man poured upon it, her great faculty of living. She wasted no -days or hours. Ever receiving, ever giving, she spent her sojourn in a -world that for her did much, yet never could do enough, to which she -gave a great love, yet never seemed to herself to be able to give -enough. Perhaps she was not wrong when she called herself a pagan. She -was of the religion of joy; her kindest thought of the grave was that -haply through some chink in its dark walls there might creep one tiny -sunbeam of memory. - -They rode home together as the sun was setting--a sun of ruddy gold, -behind it one bright, purple cloud, the sky beyond blue, deepening -almost into black. When Praslok came in sight, she laid her hand on his -with a long-drawn sigh. - -"We have been together to-day," she said. "That will be there always. -Yes, the sun and the world were made for us this day--and we have been -worthy." - -He pressed her hand. "You were sent to teach me what joy is--the worth -of the world to men who live in it. You're the angel of joy, Sophy. -Before you came, I had missed that lesson." - -"I'm very glad"--thus she ends her own record of this day of -glory--"that I've brought joy to Monseigneur. He faces his fight joyful -of heart." And then, with one of her absurd, deplorable, irresistible -lapses into the merest ordinary feminine, she adds: "That red badge is -just the touch my sheepskin cap wanted!" - -Oh, Sophy, Sophy, what of that for a final reflection on the eve of -Monseigneur's fight? - - - - -XIII - -A DELICATE DUTY - - -There was a stir in Slavna; excitement was gradually growing, not -unmixed with uneasiness; gossip was busy at the Hôtel de Paris and at -the Golden Lion. Men clustered in groups and talked, while their wives -said that they would be better at home, minding their business and -letting politics alone. Knowledge was far to seek; rumors were -plentiful. Dr. Natcheff might be as reassuring as he pleased--but he had -spent the night at the Palace! All was quiet in the city, but news came -of the force that was being raised in Volseni, and the size of the force -lost nothing as the report passed from mouth to mouth. Little as Slavna -loved the Prince, it was not eager to fight him. A certain reaction in -his favor set in. If they did not love him, they held him in sincere -respect; if he meant to fight, then they were not sure that they did! - -Baroness Dobrava's name, too, was much on men's lips; stories about -Sophy were bandied to and fro; people began to remember that they had -from the beginning thought her very remarkable--a force to be reckoned -with. The superstitious ideas about her made their first definite -appearance now. She had bewitched the Prince, they said, and the men of -the hills, too; the whole mountain country would rise at her bidding and -sweep down on Slavna in rude warfare and mad bravery. The Sheepskins -would come, following the Red Star! - -The citizens of Slavna did not relish the prospect; at the best it would -be very bad for trade; at the worst it would mean blood and death let -loose in the streets. A stern ruler was better than civil war. The -troops of the garrison were no longer such favorites as they had been; -even Captain Hercules subdued his demeanor (which, indeed, had never -quite recovered from the chastisement of the Prince's sword) to a -self-effacing discretion. He, too, in his heart, and in his heavy, -primitive brain, had an uneasy feeling about the witch with the Red -Star; had she not been the beginning of trouble? But for her, Sterkoff's -long knife would have set an end to the whole chapter long ago! - -The time was short and the omens doubtful. It was the moment for a bold -stroke, for a forcing game. The waverers must be shown where power lay, -whose was the winning side. - -Captain Markart arrived at Slavna at one o'clock. Zerkovitch had used -his start well and reached the city nearly three hours earlier. When -Markart told Stenovics (he reported himself at once to the General) how -he had been outwitted, Stenovics smiled, saying: "I know, and I know -what he has done since he got here. They stole a march on you, but not -on me, Captain. And now--your story!" He listened to Markart's tale with -a frowning brow, and then dismissed him, saying: "You will meet me at -the Palace. We meet the King in conference at four o'clock." But the -General himself went to the Palace long before four, and he and Stafnitz -were closeted with Countess Ellenburg. Lepage, returning from a walk to -the city at two o'clock, saw the General arrive on horseback. -Lieutenant Rastatz saw Lepage arrive--ay, and had seen him set out, and -marked all his goings; but of this Lepage was unconscious. The little -lieutenant was not much of a soldier, but he was an excellent spy. -Lepage had been with Zerkovitch. - -The King was confined to his apartments, a suite of six rooms on the -first floor, facing the river. Here he had his own sitting-room, -dressing, and bedrooms. Besides these there were the little cupboard -Lepage slept in, and a spare room, which at present accommodated Dr. -Natcheff. The sixth room was occupied by odds and ends, including the -tackle, rods, and other implements of his Majesty's favorite pastime. -The council was held in the sitting-room. Natcheff and Lepage were not -present, but each was in his own room, ready for any possible call on -his services. Markart was there, first to tell his story and deliver his -letter, secondly in his capacity as secretary to General Stenovics. The -Countess and Stafnitz completed the party. - -The King was anxious, worried, obviously unwell; his voice trembled as -he read aloud his son's letter. It was brief but dutiful, and even -affectionate. After a slight reproach that he should have been kept in -ignorance of the apprehensions entertained about the King's health, the -Prince requested an audience within the next two days; he had -considerations which it was his duty to lay before his Majesty, and he -firmly but respectfully claimed the right of confidential communication -with his father; that was essential to his Majesty's obtaining a true -appreciation of his views. The hit at Stenovics was plain enough, and -the Prince did not labor it. The letter ended there, with an expression -of earnest concern for the King's health. There was no word in it about -starting on his journey. - -Then Markart told his story--not that he had much to tell. In essence he -added only that the Prince proposed to await the King's answer at -Praslok. Neither to him had the Prince said a word about starting on his -journey. - -On this point Stenovics seized, pursuant, no doubt, to the plan devised -in that preliminary discussion with the other two members of the little -_coterie_. - -"It is remarkable, sir--even more than remarkable--that his Royal -Highness makes no reference at all to the direct command which your -Majesty was pleased to issue to him," he observed. - -The King listened, puzzled and rather distressed. "Yes, it isn't proper, -it isn't respectful. But now that my son knows of the state of my -health, I think I must see him. It seems unnatural to refuse. After all, -it may be the last time--since he's going on this journey." - -"But is the Prince going on his journey, sir?" asked Stenovics. "Does -the studied silence of his letter augur well for his obedience? Doesn't -he seek an interview in order to persuade your Majesty against your -better judgment? I must be pardoned freedom of speech. Great interests -are at stake." The last words were true enough, though not in the sense -in which the King was meant to understand them. - -"My son knows how near this matter is to my heart. I shall be able to -persuade him to do his duty," said the King. - -The first round of the fight was going against the _coterie_. They did -not want the King to see his son. Danger lay there. The Prince's was the -stronger character; it might well prevail; and they were no longer -certain that the Prince knew or guessed nothing of their hopes and -intentions; how much news had Zerkovitch carried to Praslok the night -before? Stenovics addressed the King again. - -"Captain Markart gathered that the Prince was reluctant to interrupt the -military training on which he is engaged at Volseni, sir." - -"A very excellent thing, that; but the other matter is more urgent. I -shouldn't change my mind on account of that." - -"A personal interview might be trying to your Majesty." - -The King looked annoyed, possibly a little suspicious. "You've no other -objection than that to urge, General Stenovics?" - -Stenovics had none other which he could produce. "No, sir," he said. - -"While I'm here I must do my duty--and I shall induce my son to do his. -I'll receive the Prince of Slavna in private audience to-morrow or next -day. I'll fix the precise time later, and I'll write the letter myself." - -The decision was final--and it was defeat so far. There was a moment's -silence. Markart saw Colonel Stafnitz nod his head, almost -imperceptibly, towards Countess Ellenburg. The need and the moment for -reinforcements had come; the Colonel was calling them up. The order of -battle had been well considered in Countess Ellenburg's apartments! The -second line came into action. The Countess began with a question, put -with a sneer: - -"Did no other reason for the Prince's unwillingness to set out on his -journey suggest itself to Captain Markart from what he saw at Praslok?" - -The King turned sharply round to her, then to Markart. "Well?" he asked -the latter. - -Markart was sadly embarrassed. - -"Who was at Praslok?" asked the Countess. - -"Madame Zerkovitch, and her husband for one night, and Baroness -Dobrava." - -"Yes, Baroness Dobrava!" - -"She's still there?" asked the King. He looked perplexed, even vexed, -but again he smiled. He looked at Stenovics and Stafnitz, but this time -he found no responsive smiles. Their faces were deadly serious. "Oh, -come, well--well, that's not serious. Natural, perhaps, but--the Prince -has a sense of duty. He'll see that that won't do. And we'll send the -Baroness a hint--we'll tell her how much we miss her at Slavna." He -tried to make them answer his smile and accept his smoothing away of the -difficulty. It was all a failure. - -"I'm bound to say, sir, that I consider Baroness Dobrava a serious -obstacle to his Royal Highness's obeying your wishes--a serious -obstacle," said Stenovics. - -"Then we must get her away, General." - -"Will he let her go?" snapped the Countess. - -"I must order it, if it comes to that," said the King. "These -little--er--affairs--these--what?--holiday flirtations--" - -The Countess lost--or appeared to lose--control of herself suddenly. -"Little affairs! Holiday flirtations! If it were only that, it would be -beneath your notice, sir, and beneath mine. It's more than that!" - -The King started and leaned forward, looking at her. She rose to her -feet, crying: "More than that! While we sit talking here, he may be -marrying that woman!" - -"Marrying her?" cried the King; his face turned red, and then, as the -blood ebbed again, became very pale. - -"That's what she means--yes, and what he means, too!" - -The King was aghast. The second assault struck home--struck at his -dearest hopes and wounded his most intimate ambitions. But he was still -incredulous. He spread out trembling hands, turning from the vehement -woman to his two counsellors. - -"Gentlemen!" he said, imploringly, with out-stretched hands. - -They were silent--grave and silent. - -"Captain Markart, you--you saw anything to suggest this--this terrible -idea?" - -The fire was hot on poor Markart again. He stammered and stuttered. - -"The--the Baroness seemed to have much influence, sir; to--to hold a -very high position in the Prince's regard; to--to be in his -confidence--" - -"Yes!" struck in the Countess. "She wears the uniform of his artillery! -Isn't that a compliment usually reserved for ladies of royal rank? I -appeal to you, Colonel Stafnitz!" - -"In most services it is so, I believe, Countess," the Colonel answered -gravely. - -"But I should never allow it--and without my consent--" - -"It might be invalid, sir, though there's some doubt about that. But it -would be a fatal bar to our German project. Even an influence short of -actual marriage--" - -"She means marriage, I say, marriage!" The Countess was quite rudely -impatient of her ally--which was very artistic. "An ambitious and -dangerous woman! She has taken advantage of the favor the King showed -her." - -"And if I died?" asked the King. - -Stenovics shrugged his shoulders. "Of course, there would be no control -then," said he. - -The King looked round. "We must get her away from Praslok." - -"Will she come?" jeered the Countess. "Not she! Will he let her go? Not -he!" - -The King passed his hand weakly across his brow. Then he rang a bell on -the table. Lepage entered, and the King bade him bring him the draught -which Natcheff had prescribed for his nerves. Well might the unfortunate -man feel the need of it, between the Countess's open eruption and the -not less formidable calm of Stenovics and Stafnitz! And all his favorite -dreams in danger! - -"She won't leave him--or he'll follow her. The woman has infatuated -him!" the Countess persisted. - -"Pray, madame, let me think," said the harassed and sick King. "We must -open communications with Baroness Dobrava." - -"May I suggest that the matter might prove urgent, sir?" said Stenovics. - -"Every hour is full of danger," declared the Countess. - -The King held up his hand for silence. Then he took paper and pen, and -wrote with his own hand some lines. He signed the document and folded -it. His face was now firm and calmer. The peril to his greatest -hopes--perhaps a sense of the precarious tenure of his power--seemed to -impart to him a new promptness, a decision alien to his normal -character. "Colonel Stafnitz!" he said in a tone of command. - -The Colonel rose to his feet and saluted. From an adviser in council he -became in a moment a soldier on duty. - -"I am about to entrust to you a duty of great delicacy. I choose you -because, short of General Stenovics himself, there is no man in whom I -have such confidence. To-morrow morning you will go to Praslok and -inform his Royal Highness that you have a communication from me for -Baroness Dobrava. If the Prince is absent, you will see the Baroness -herself. If she is absent, you will follow her and find her. The matter -is urgent. You will tell her that it is my request that she at once -accompany you back here to the Palace, where I shall receive her and -acquaint her with my further wishes. If she asks of these, say that you -are not empowered to tell her anything; she must learn them from myself. -If she makes any demur about accompanying you immediately, or if demur -is made or delay suggested from any quarter, you will say that my -request is a command. If that is not sufficient, you will produce this -paper. It is an order under my hand, addressed to you and directing you -to arrest Baroness Dobrava and escort her here to my presence, -notwithstanding any objection or resistance, which any person whatever -will offer at his peril. You will be back here by to-morrow evening, -with the Baroness in your charge. Do it without employing the order for -arrest if possible, but do it anyhow and at all costs. Do you -understand?" - -"Perfectly, sir. Am I to take an escort?" - -The answer to that question was anxiously considered--and awaited -anxiously. - -"Yes," said the King, "you will. The precise force I leave to your -discretion. It should be large enough to make you secure from -hinderance by any act short of open and armed resistance to my -commands." - -Stafnitz saluted again, and at a sign from the King resumed his seat. -The King's manner relaxed as he turned to Stenovics. "When we've got her -here, we'll reason with her--she'll hear reason--and persuade her that -her health will benefit by a foreign trip. If necessary, I shall cause -her to be deported. She must be out of Kravonia in three days unless she -can clear herself from all suspicion. I'll arrange that the Prince -sha'n't come for his audience until she is well out of Slavna. It is, of -course, absolutely essential that no word of this should pass the walls -of this room. If once a hint of it reached Praslok, the task of laying -our hands on the Baroness might become infinitely more difficult." - -The three were well pleased. They had come to fear Sophy, and on that -score alone would be right glad to see the last of her. And when she had -gone, there was a fairer chance that the Prince, too, would go on his -travels; whether he went after her or not they cared little, so that he -went, and the recruiting and training at Volseni were interrupted. - -Again, she was to go before the audience. That was another point. The -peril of the audience remained, but they had improved their chances. -Perhaps Stafnitz's brain was already busy with the possibilities of his -mission and his escort. The latter was to be large enough to make him -secure from hinderance by any act short of open and armed resistance to -the King's commands. If it were impossible (as his Majesty obviously -considered) to contemplate such resistance, it was evidently no less -impossible to reckon what might happen as a consequence of it. - -The King rang his bell impatiently. "I want my draught again. I'm very -tired. Is there anything else which need detain us to-day?" - -As he spoke, before Stenovics could answer, Lepage came in with the -draught. The valet wore an even unusually demure and uninterested -expression. - -"There is one other matter, sir," said Stenovics. - -The King paused in the act of drinking and listened with his glass in -his hand, Lepage standing beside him. - -"Your Majesty just now impressed on us the need of secrecy as to what -passes between these walls. I think, sir, you would insist on the same -thing with all who serve you confidentially. You haven't asked, sir, how -the Prince became aware of the state of your Majesty's health." - -The King started a little. "No, I forgot that. It was against my direct -orders. How was it?" - -Stenovics kept his eyes on the King; Markart and Stafnitz allowed -themselves to study Lepage's features; he stood the scrutiny well. - -"The news, sir, was betrayed by a man within these walls--a man in close -touch with your Majesty." - -"Natcheff!" exclaimed the King. - -"Certainly not, sir. Another. This man, of whom I had suspicions, and -whom I caused to be watched, went by night to the house of Monsieur -Zerkovitch, who is, as you are aware, a close friend and (if I may use -the word) an adherent of the Prince of Slavna. Their interview took -place between nine and ten last night. At eleven Zerkovitch, having -borrowed a horse from the Prince's stables, set out for Praslok. He rode -hard through the night and reached the Castle, as Captain Markart has -told us, in the small hours of the morning. There he had an interview -with the Prince. He left Praslok between six and seven in the morning -and arrived at his house on the south boulevard by eleven. At half-past -eleven he walked up the Street of the Fountain, crossed St. Michael's -Square, and entered a small inn in a little alley behind the Cathedral. -Here the man I speak of was waiting for him. They were together half an -hour. Zerkovitch then left. The man remained till one, then came out, -and returned to the Palace by a circuitous route, arriving here about -two o'clock. I venture to say that the meaning of all this is quite -clear. This man is in communication with Praslok, using Zerkovitch as -his intermediary. It's for your Majesty to say how far his disobedience -in regard to acquainting the Prince with your condition is a serious -offence. As to that I say nothing. But it will be obvious that this man -should know nothing of any private measures undertaken or contemplated." - -The King had listened carefully. "The case seems clear," he said. "This -fellow's a traitor. He's done harm already, and may do more. What do you -ask, General?" - -"We might be content to let him know nothing. But who can be quite -certain of insuring that? Sir, you have just arrived at a very important -decision--to take certain action. Absolute secrecy is essential to its -success. I've no wish to press hardly on this man, but I feel bound to -urge that he should be put under arrest and kept in the charge of a -person who is beyond suspicion until the action to which I refer has -been successfully carried out." - -"The precaution is an obvious one, and the punishment hardly -sufficient." The King rose. "Do as you say, General. I leave you full -discretion. And now I'll go to my room and rest. I'm very tired. Give -me your arm, Lepage, and come and make me comfortable." - -Lepage did not offer his arm. He was not looking at the King, nor -listening to him; his eyes and his ears were for General Stenovics. -Stenovics rose now and pointed his finger at Lepage. - -"That, sir, is the man," said he. - -"Lepage!" cried the King, and sank heavily into his seat with a -bewildered face. Lepage--his familiar--the man he trusted! - - - - -XIV - -HIS MAJESTY DIES--TO-MORROW! - - -The King's ambition and pride had quivered under the threat of a cruel -blow; the charge against Lepage wounded him hardly less deeply. He -regarded his body-servant with the trustful affection which grows on an -indolent man in course of years--of countless days of consulting, -trusting, relying on one ever present, ever ready, always trustworthy. -Lepage had been with him nearly thirty years; there was hardly a secret -of the King's manhood which he had not known and kept. At last had he -turned traitor? - -Stenovics had failed to allow for this human side of the matter; how -much more alone the revelation would make the King feel, how much more -exposed and helpless--just, moreover, when sickness made his invaluable -servant more indispensable still. A forlorn dignity filled the King's -simple question: "Is it true, Lepage?" - -Lepage's impassivity vanished. He, too, was deeply moved. The sense of -guilt was on him--of guilt against his master; it drove him on, beyond -itself, to a fierce rage against those who had goaded him into his -disobedience, whose action and plans had made his disobedience right. -For right now he believed and felt it; his talks with Zerkovitch had -crystallized his suspicions into confident certainty. He was carried -beyond thinking of what effect his outburst might have on his own -fortunes or how it might distress the already harassed King. He struck -back fiercely at his accuser, all his national quickness of passion -finding vent in the torrent of words he poured forth in excuse or -justification. He spoke his native French, very quickly, one word -jostling over another, his arms flying like windmills, and his hair -bristling, as it seemed, with defiance. - -"Yes, it's true, sir. I disobeyed your Majesty--for the first time in -thirty years! For the first time in my life, sir, I did it! And why? -Because it was right; because it was for honor. I was angry, yes! I had -been scolded because Count Alexis bade me call him 'Prince,' and you -heard me do it. Yes, I was angry. Was it my fault? Had I told him he was -a prince? No! Who had told him he was a prince? Don't ask me, sir. Ask -somebody else. For my part, I know well the difference between one who -is a prince and one who is not. Oh, I'm not ignorant of that! I know, -too, the difference between one who is a queen and one who is not--oh, -with the utmost respect to Madame la Comtesse! But I know it--and I -remember it. Does everybody else remember it?" - -He stopped for a moment and clutched at his stiff, tight collar, as -though to wrench it away from his neck, and let the stream of his words -flow even more freely. While he paused, nobody spoke. Stenovics's heavy -gaze was on the King, Stafnitz's eyes discreetly on the ceiling; the -Countess looked scared. Had they made a mistake? Would it have been -better to run the risk of what Lepage could do? The King's hands were on -the table in front of him; they trembled where they lay. - -"Why wasn't the Prince to know? Because then he wouldn't go on his -journey! His journey after the German princess!" He faced Stenovics now, -boldly and defiantly, pointing a forefinger at him. "Yes, they wanted -him to go. Yes, they did! Why, sir? To marry a princess--a great -princess? Was that what they wanted? Eh, but it would have been little -use for Count Alexis to ask me to call him a prince then! And Madame la -Comtesse--with the utmost respect to Madame la Comtesse--she wanted a -great princess here? Oh, she wanted that mightily, to be sure!" - -The King stirred uneasily in his chair. - -"Sir, will you listen to him?" the Countess broke in. - -His answer was cold: "I listen to every man before I order him to be -punished." - -"Yes, they wanted him to go. Yes, certainly! For he trains his men at -Volseni, trains them for his big guns. When the men are trained and the -guns have come--well, who'll call Count Alexis a prince then? Will even -they who taught him to think himself a prince? Oh yes; they wanted him -to go. And he wouldn't go if he knew your Majesty was ill. He loves your -Majesty. Yes! But if he hated you, still would he go?" With a sudden -turn he was round on Stenovics again, and threw out his arms as though -to embrace a picture. "Look! The Prince is away, the guns are come, the -King dies! Who commands in the Palace? Who governs Slavna?" He was back -to the King with another swift turn. "May I answer, sir? May I tell you? -The mother of Prince Alexis commands in the Palace; Slavna is ruled by -the friends of Captain Mistitch!" His voice fell to an ironical murmur. -"And the Prince is far off--seeking a great princess! Sir, do you see -the picture?" - -Stafnitz suddenly lowered his eyes from the ceiling and looked at the -gesticulating little man with a smile. - -"Such imagination in the servants' hall!" he murmured half under his -breath. - -The King neither rebuked his levity nor endorsed the insinuated satire. -He took no notice at all. His eyes were fixed on his still trembling -hands. - -Stenovics spoke in a calm, smooth voice. "Absolutely, sir, I believe the -man's honest!" he said, with an inflection of good-humored surprise. -"One sees how he got the idea! I'm sure he's genuinely devoted to your -Majesty, and to the Prince--as we all are. He sees something going on -which he doesn't understand; he knows something more is going on that -he's ignorant of. He knows the unfortunate condition of your Majesty's -health. He's like a nurse--forgive me--in charge of a sick child; he -thinks everybody but himself has designs on his charge. It's really -natural, however absurd--but it surely makes the precaution I suggested -even more necessary? If he went about spreading a tale like this!" - -The line was clever--cleverer far than the Countess's rage, cleverer -than Stafnitz's airily bitter sneer. But of it, too, the King took no -notice. Lepage took no more than lay in a very scornful smile. He leaned -down towards the motionless, dull-faced King, and said in his ear: - -"They wanted him to go, yes! Did they want him to come back again, sir?" -He bent a little lower, and almost whispered: "How long would his -journey have taken, sir? How long would it have taken him to get back -if--in case of need?" One more question he did not ask in words; but it -was plain enough without them: "How long can your Majesty count on -living?" - -At last the King raised his head and looked round on them. His eyes were -heavy and glassy. - -"This man has been my trusted servant for many, many years. You, General -Stenovics, have been my right hand, my other self. Colonel Stafnitz is -high in my confidence. And Lepage is only my servant." - -"I seek to stand no higher than any other of your Majesty's servants, -except in so far as the nature of my services gives me a claim," said -Stenovics. - -"But there's one here who stands far nearer to me than any one, who -stands nearer to me than any living being. She must know of this thing, -if it's true; if it's being done, her hand must be foremost among the -hands that are doing it." His eyes fixed themselves on the Countess's -face. "Is it true?" he asked. - -"Sir, how can you ask? How can you listen? True! It's a malignant -invention. He's angry because I reproved him." - -"Yes, I'm angry. I said so. But it's true for all that." - -"Silence, Lepage! Am I to take your word against the Countess's?" - -Markart, a silent listener to all this scene, thought that Lepage's game -was up. Who could doubt what the Countess's word would be? Probably -Lepage, too, thought that he was beaten, that he was a ruined man. For -he played a desperate card--the last throw of a bankrupt player. Yet it -was guided by shrewdness, and by the intimate knowledge which his years -of residence in the Palace had given him. He knew the King well; and he -knew Countess Ellenburg hardly less thoroughly. - -"I speak truth, sir, as I believe it. But I can't expect you to take my -word against the Countess's. I have too much respect for Madame la -Comtesse to ask that." - -Again he bent down towards the King; the King looked up at him; -Stenovics's simile came back into the mind. In a low, soothing tone -Lepage made his throw--his last suggestion. "Madame la Comtesse is of -great piety. If Madame la Comtesse will take a solemn oath--well, then -I'm content! I'll say I was mistaken--honest, I declare, sir, but -mistaken." - -Stenovics raised his head with a sharp jerk. Stafnitz smiled scornfully; -he was thinking that Lepage was not, after all, a very resourceful -fellow. An oath! Great Heavens! Oaths were in the day's work when you -put your hand to affairs like this. But here Stenovics was wiser--and -Lepage was shrewder. Stafnitz generalized from an experience rather -one-sided; the other two knew the special case. When oaths were -mentioned--solemn oaths--Stenovics scented danger. - -The King knew his wife, too; and he was profoundly affected, convulsed -to the depths of his mind. The thing sounded true--it had a horrible -sound of truth. He craved the Countess's denial, solemn as it could be -framed. That would restore the confidence which was crumbling from -beneath his tormented, bewildered mind. - -"Can anybody object to that," he asked slowly, "if I say it will relieve -my mind?" He smiled apologetically. "I'm a sick man, you know. If it -will relieve a sick man's mind, banish a sick man's fancies? If I shall -sleep a little better--and old Lepage here be ashamed of himself?" - -None of them dared to object. None could plausibly, unless the Countess -herself--and she dared not. In his present mood the King would not -accept the plea of her dignity; against it he would set the indulgence -due to a sick man's rebellious fancies; could she, for her dignity's -sake, deny him what would make him sleep? - -He looked at her; something in her face appeared to strike him as -strange. A sort of quiver ran through his body; he seemed to pull -himself together with an effort; as he spoke to her, his voice sounded -faint and ever so slightly blurred. - -"You've heard Lepage, and I know that you'll speak the truth to me on -your oath--the truth about the thing nearest to the heart of a dying -man--nearest to the heart of your dying husband. You wouldn't lie on -oath to a dying man, your husband and your King. For I am dying. You -have years still; but they'll end. You believe that some day you and I -will stand together before the Throne. As you shall answer to Heaven in -that day, is this true? Was it in your heart, and in the heart of these -men, to keep my son, the heir of my House, from his throne? Is it true? -As you shall answer to God for your soul, is there any truth in it?" - -The woman went gray in the face--a sheet of gray paper seemed drawn over -her cheeks; her narrow lips showed a pale red streak across it. Her -prayers--those laborious, ingenious, plausible prayers--helped her -nothing here. - -"I protest! At this time, sir! The Countess will be upset!" - -Stenovics had been driven to this; he feared greatly. Not a soul heeded -him; every eye now was on the woman. She struggled--she struggled to -lie; she struggled to do what she believed would bring perdition to her -soul. Her voice was forced and harsh when at last she broke silence. - -"As I shall answer in that day--" - -"As you shall answer to God for your soul in that day--" the King -repeated. - -She gave a wild glance at Stenovics, seeking succor, finding no refuge. -Her eyes came back to the King's face. "As I shall answer--" Every word -came forth by its own self, with its separate birth-pang--"As I shall -answer to God for my soul--" - -She stopped. There was silence while a man might count ten. She threw -her hands above her head and broke into a violent torrent of sobs. "I -can't! I can't!" they heard her say through her tumultuous weeping. - -The King suddenly started back in his chair as though somebody had -offered to strike him. "You--you--you, my wife! You, Stenovics! You, -whom I trusted--trusted--trusted like--! Ah, is that you, Lepage? Did I -hear rightly--wouldn't she swear?" - -"With the utmost respect to Madame la Comtesse, she could not swear, -sir." - -The King sprang to his feet. "Go!" he cried. - -They all rose--the Countess shaken with unconquerable sobs. But the next -moment the King made a quick in-drawing of the breath, like a man -suddenly pricked by some sharp thing. He dropped back in his chair; his -head fell to meet his hands on the table in front. The hands were palms -downward, and his forehead rested on his knuckles. - -There was a moment's pause. Then Lepage darted from the room, crying: -"Dr. Natcheff! Dr. Natcheff!" Stenovics wiped his brow. Stafnitz raised -his head with a queer look at the King, and his mouth shaped for a -whistle. The Countess's sobs seemed as though frozen, her whole frame -was rigid. The King did not move. - -Natcheff came rushing in; Lepage, who followed closely, shut the door -after him. They both went to the King. There was silence while Natcheff -made his examination. In a couple of minutes he turned round to them. - -"Something has caused his Majesty strong agitation?" - -"Yes," answered Stenovics. - -"Yes!" said Natcheff. He cleared his throat and glanced doubtfully at -the Countess. - -"Well?" asked Stenovics. - -Natcheff threw out his hands, shrugging his shoulders ever so slightly: - -"I regret to say that the effect is the worst possible. His Majesty is -dead." - -Silence again--a silence strangely broken. Stafnitz sprang across the -room with a bound like a cat's, and caught the physician by the -shoulder. - -"No!" he said. "Not for twenty-four hours yet! His Majesty -dies--to-morrow!" - - - - -XV - -A JOB FOR CAPTAIN HERCULES - - -"His Majesty dies--to-morrow!" - -Stafnitz's words seemed to freeze them all stiff where they stood; even -Countess Ellenburg's sobs, which had threatened to break forth again, -were arrested in their flow. - -"Markart, lock the door leading to the King's apartments. Natcheff and -Lepage, carry the King into his bedroom; lay him on the bed; stay there -till I call you. Countess, General, I invite your earnest attention." - -Stenovics's mind excelled in the waiting game, the slow, tortuous -approach, the inch-by-inch advance of leisurely diplomacy. For him this -crisis was at first too sudden. The swift and daring intellect of -Stafnitz naturally and inevitably took the lead; his strong will -fascinated his confederates. - -"Is this to be the beginning or the end?" he asked. "For us and our -friends--which? If we send a courier to Praslok to call King Sergius to -his capital--what then? For you, Countess, and your son, oblivion and -obscurity at Dobrava--for all the rest of your life, just that! For you, -General, and for me, and our friends--yes, you too, Markart!--our -_congé_, more or less civilly given. There won't be more insignificant -men in all Slavna on the day King Sergius enters. But there's no King -Sergius yet!" - -Stenovics was regaining the use of his brain; his eyes grew distant in -deep meditation. Countess Ellenburg looked eager and grim; her lips -could not swear a false oath--well, she was not asked to swear any oath -now. Markart could not think; he stood staring at Stafnitz. - -"In half an hour that courier must start for Praslok, if he starts at -all. Of all things, we mustn't hesitate." - -He had painted the result to them of the coming of King Sergius; it -meant the defeat of years of effort; it entailed the end of hopes, of -place, of power or influence. There was no future for those three in -Kravonia if King Sergius came. And Markart, of course, seemed no more -than one of Stenovics's train. - -"And if the courier doesn't start?" asked Stenovics. He took out and lit -a cigar, asking no leave of the Countess; probably he hardly knew that -he was smoking it. - -Stafnitz looked at his watch. "Five o'clock! We have twenty-four -hours--it would be risky to keep the secret longer. There's not much -time; we must be prompt. But we mustn't sacrifice anything to hurry. For -instance, it would look odd to present the King's orders to Baroness -Dobrava in the middle of the night! She'd smell a rat, if she's as -clever as they say. And so would the Prince, I think. I could have a -hundred men at Praslok by midnight, but I shouldn't propose to have them -there before eleven o'clock to-morrow. Well, they could be back here by -five in the afternoon! In the course of the day we'll occupy all the -important points of the city with troops we can trust. Then, in the -evening--as soon as we see how matters have gone at Praslok--we proclaim -King Alexis!" - -The Countess gave a little shiver--whether of fear or of eagerness it -was impossible to tell. Stenovics drummed his fingers on the table and -turned his cigar quickly round and round in his mouth. Markart had -recovered his clearness of mind and closely watched all the scene. - -The Countess rose suddenly--in strong agitation. "I--I can't bear it," -she said. "With him lying there! Let me go! Presently--presently you -shall tell me--anything." - -Stenovics laid down his cigar and went to her. "Wait in there"--he -pointed to Natcheff's room--"till you're quite composed. Then go to your -own room and wait till I come. Mind, Countess, no sign of agitation!" He -led her out. Stafnitz shrugged his shoulders. - -"She'll be all right," he said to Markart with a passing smile. - -"I think she was fond of the King," said Markart. - -Stenovics returned. "Now!" he said, seating himself again and resuming -his cigar. "You suggest that we still use that order--for the arrest of -Baroness Dobrava?" - -"It's signed 'Alexis,' and King Alexis lives till five to-morrow. -Moreover, if all goes well, King Alexis lives again for many years after -that." - -Stenovics nodded slightly. "The Baroness comes willingly--or you bring -her? At any rate, one way or the other, she's in our hands by this time -to-morrow?" - -"Exactly, General. I fail to perceive that this lamentable event"--he -waved his hand towards the King's empty chair--"alters the case as -regards the Baroness one jot." - -"Not the least--unless you consider that risking our heads on the throw -has any such effect," replied Stenovics; and for the first time he -smiled. - -"Once you wanted to play the big stake on a bad hand, General. Won't you -put it on the table now, when you've a good one?" - -"I'm thinking of a certain strong card in the other hand which you -haven't mentioned yet. Baroness Dobrava is to be in our power by this -time to-morrow. But what will the Prince of Slavna be doing? Still -drilling his men at Volseni, still waiting for his guns?" - -Stafnitz looked him full in the face. "No," he said. "The Prince had -better not still be drilling his men at Volseni, nor waiting for his -guns." - -"I think not, too," Stenovics agreed, twisting his cigar round again. - -"General, do you think the Prince will let Baroness Dobrava come to -Slavna without him?" - -"I don't know. He might have confidence enough in you; he wouldn't wish -to annoy or agitate the King. He might await his summons to an audience. -On the whole, I think he would submit--and rely on being able to induce -the King to alter his mind when they met. I'm not sure he wouldn't -advise her to go with you." - -"Well, yes, I confess that struck me, too, as rather likely--or at least -possible." - -"If it happened, it wouldn't be convenient," said Stenovics, with a -patient sigh. "Because he would come after her in a day or two." - -"But if I were detained by urgent business in Slavna--and we've agreed -that there's work to be done to-morrow in Slavna--another officer would -go to Praslok. The order, which I have here, mentions no name, although -the King designated me by word of mouth." - -"The order mentions no name?" - -"No; it directs the Baroness to accompany the bearer. True, at the foot -my name is written--'Entrusted to Colonel Stafnitz.' But with care and a -pair of scissors--!" He smiled at Markart again, as though taking him -into the joke. - -"Well, well, suppose another officer goes to Praslok--why shouldn't the -Prince trust the Baroness to the care of that officer as readily as to -you? You don't--how shall I put it?--monopolize his confidence, -Colonel." - -Stafnitz still wore his easy, confidential smile, as he answered with an -air of innocent slyness: "Suppose the officer were--Captain Mistitch? I -think it's just the job for Captain Hercules!" - -Even Stenovics started a little at that. He laid down his cigar and -looked at his friend the Colonel for some seconds. Then he looked at -Markart, smiling, seeming to ponder, to watch how Markart was taking it, -even to sympathize with Markart on having to consider a rather startling -proposal, on having, possibly, to do some little violence to his -feelings. Certainly Captain Markart gathered the impression that -Stenovics was doubtful how he would stand this somewhat staggering -suggestion. At last the General turned his eyes back to Stafnitz again. - -"That's as ingenious a bit of deviltry as I ever heard, Colonel," he -remarked quietly. - -"Captain Mistitch is restored to duty. He's of proper rank to perform -such a service, and to command an escort of a hundred men. After all, an -officer of my rank made a certain concession in accepting so small a -command." - -"Of course, if the Prince knew you as I do, my dear Colonel, he'd trust -her to a thousand Mistitches sooner than to you--" - -"But then--he doesn't!" the Colonel smiled. - -"He'd regard the sending of Mistitch as a deliberate insult." - -"I'm afraid he would." - -"He's hot-tempered. He'd probably say as much." - -"Yes. And Mistitch is hot-tempered. He'd probably resent the -observation. But you'll remember, General, that the escort is to be -large enough to make the officer commanding it secure against hinderance -by any act short of open and armed resistance to the King's command." - -"He'll never believe the King would send Mistitch!" - -"Will that make his peaceable obedience more likely?" - -"In a moment they'd be at each other's--" He stopped. "Markart, go and -see if they need anything in there." He pointed to the King's bedroom, -where Natcheff and Lepage were. - -Markart rose and obeyed. His head was swimming; he hardly yet understood -how very ingenious the ingenious deviltry was, how the one man was to be -sent whose directions the Prince could not submit to, whose presence was -an insult, to whom it was impossible to entrust Baroness Dobrava. He was -very glad to get out of the room. The last he saw was Stafnitz drawing -his chair close up to Stenovics and engaging in low-voiced, earnest -talk. - -The King's body lay on the bed, decently disposed, and covered with a -large fur rug. Lepage sat on a chair near by, Natcheff on another in the -window. Both looked up for a moment as Markart entered, but neither -spoke. Markart found a third chair and sat down. Nobody said anything; -the three were as silent and almost as still as the fourth on the bed. A -low murmur of voices came from the next room; the words were -indistinguishable. So passed full half an hour--a strange and terrible -half-hour it seemed to Markart. - -The door opened, and Stafnitz called Natcheff. The physician rose and -followed him. Another twenty minutes went by, still in silence; but once -Markart, looking for a moment at his mute companion, saw a tear rolling -slowly down Lepage's wrinkled cheek. Lepage saw him looking and broke -the silence: - -"I suppose I helped to kill him!" - -Markart shrugged his shoulders helplessly. Silence came again. Very long -it seemed; but, on looking at his watch, Markart found that it was not -yet half-past six. - -Again the door opened, and Stafnitz called to them both. They followed -him into the next room. Stenovics was sitting at the table with his -hands clasped on it in front of him. Stafnitz took up a position by his -side, standing as though on duty. Natcheff had disappeared. Stenovics -spoke in calm, deliberate tones; he seemed to have assumed command of -the operations again. - -"Captain Markart, I'm about to entrust to you an important and -responsible duty. For the next twenty-four hours, and afterwards until -relieved by my orders, you will be in charge of this man Lepage, and -will detain him in these apartments. His own room and this room will be -at the disposal of yourself and your prisoner, but you must not let the -prisoner out of your sight. Dr. Natcheff remains in his room. He will -have access to the King's room when he desires, but he will not leave -the suite of apartments. Beyond seeing to this, you will have no -responsibility for him. The door leading to the suite will be locked by -me, and will be opened only by me, or by my orders. I remain at the -Palace to-night; under me Captain Sterkoff will be the officer on guard. -He will himself supply you with any meals or other refreshments which -you may require. Ring this hand-bell on the table--no other bell, -mind--and he will be with you immediately. Do you understand your -orders?" - -Markart understood them very well; there was no need of Stafnitz's -mocking little smile to point the meaning. Markart was to be Lepage's -jailer, Sterkoff was to be his. Under the most civil and considerate -form he was made as close a prisoner as the man he guarded. Evidently, -Stenovics had come to the conclusion that he could not ask Markart to -put too great a strain on his conscience! The General, however, seemed -very kindly disposed towards him, and was, indeed, almost apologetic: - -"I've every hope that this responsible and, I fear, very irksome duty -may last only the few hours I mentioned. You put me under a personal -obligation by undertaking it, my dear Markart." - -In the absence of any choice, Markart saluted and answered: "I -understand my orders, General." - -Stafnitz interposed: "Captain Sterkoff is also aware of their purport." - -Stenovics looked vexed. "Yes, yes, but I'm sure Markart himself is quite -enough." It seems odd that, in the midst of such a transaction as that -in which he was now engaged, Stenovics should have found leisure--or -heart--to care about Markart's feeling. Yet so it was--a curiously -human touch creeping in! He shut Markart up only under the strongest -sense of necessity and with great reluctance. Probably Stafnitz had -insisted, in the private conversation which they had held together: -Markart had shown such evident signs of jibbing over the job proposed -for Captain Hercules! - -Lepage's heart was wrung, but his spirit was not broken. Stafnitz's -ironical smile called an answering one to his lips. - -"It would console my feelings if I also were put in charge of somebody, -General," he said. "Shall I, in my turn, keep an eye on Dr. Natcheff, or -report if the Captain here is remiss in the duty of keeping himself a -prisoner?" - -"I don't think you need trouble yourself, Monsieur Lepage. Captain -Sterkoff will relieve you of responsibility." To Lepage, too, Stenovics -was gentle, urbane, almost apologetic. - -"And how long am I to live, General?" - -"You're in the enviable position, Monsieur Lepage, of being able, -subject to our common mortality, to settle that for yourself. Come, -come, we'll discuss matters again to-morrow night or the following -morning. There are many men who prefer not to do things, but will accept -a thing when it's done. They're not necessarily unwise. I've done no -worse to you than give you the opportunity of being one of them. I think -you'll be prudent to take it. Anyhow, don't be angry; you must remember -that you've given us a good deal of trouble." - -"Between us we have killed the King." - -Stenovics waved his hands in a commiserating way. "Practical men mustn't -spend time in lamenting the past," he said. - -"Nor in mere conversation, however pleasant," Stafnitz broke in with a -laugh. "Captain Markart, march your prisoner to his quarters." - -His smile made the order a mockery. Markart felt it, and a hatred of the -man rose in him. But he could do nothing. He did not lead Lepage to his -quarters, but followed sheepishly in his prisoner's wake. They went -together into the little room where Lepage slept. - -"Close quarters too, Captain!" said the valet. "There is but one -chair--let me put it at your service." He himself sat down on the bed, -took out his tobacco, and began to roll himself a cigarette. - -Markart shut the door and then threw himself on the solitary chair, in a -heavy despondency of spirit and a confused conflict of feelings. He was -glad to be out of the work, yet he resented the manner in which he was -put aside. There were things going on in which it was well to have no -hand. Yet was there not a thing going on in which every man ought to -have a hand, on one side or the other? Not to do it, but to be ready to -accept it when done! He was enough of a soldier to feel that there lay -the worst, the meanest thing of all. Not to dare to do it, but to profit -by the doing! Stenovics had used the words to Lepage, his prisoner. By -making him in effect a prisoner, too, the General showed that he applied -them to the Captain also. Anything seemed better than that--ay, it would -be better to ride to Praslok behind Captain Hercules! In that adventure -a man might, at least, risk his life! - -"An odd world!" said the valet, puffing out his cigarette smoke. "Honest -men for prisoners, and murderers for jailers! Are you a prisoner or a -jailer, Captain Markart?" - - - - -XVI - -A FRENCHMAN AND A MATTRESS - - -To say the truth, the word "murderers" seemed to Captain Markart more -than a little harsh. To use it was to apply to Kravonian affairs the -sterner standards of more steady-going, squeamish countries. A _coup -d'état_ may well involve fighting; fighting naturally includes killing. -But are the promoters of the _coup_ therefore murderers? Murderers with -a difference, anyhow, according to Kravonian ideas, which Captain -Markart was inclined to share. Moreover, a _coup d'état_ is war; the -suppression of information is legitimate in war. If the Prince of Slavna -could not find out for himself what had happened in the Palace, were his -opponents bound to tell him? In fact, given that an attempt to change -the succession in your own interest was not a crime, but a legitimate -political enterprise, the rest followed. - -Except Mistitch! It was difficult to swallow Mistitch. There was a -mixture of ingenuity and brutality about that move which not even -Kravonian notions could easily accept. If Stafnitz had gone--nay, if he -himself had been sent--probably Markart's conscience would not have -rebelled. But to send Captain Hercules--that was cogging the dice! Yet -he was very angry that Stenovics should have divined his feelings and -shut him up. The General distrusted his courage as well as his -conscience--there lay the deepest hurt to Markart's vanity; it was all -the deeper because in his heart he had to own that Stenovics read him -right. Not only the brazen conscience was lacking, but also the iron -nerve. - -Getting no answer to his unpleasantly pointed question, Lepage relapsed -into silence. He stood by the window, looking out on the lawn which -sloped down to the Krath. Beyond the river the lights of Slavna glowed -in the darkening sky. Things would be happening in Slavna soon; Lepage -might well look at the city thoughtfully. As a fact, however, his mind -was occupied with one problem only--where was Zerkovitch and how could -he get at him? For Lepage did not waver--he had taken his line. - -Presently, however, his professional instincts seemed to reassert -themselves. He opened a cupboard in the room and brought out a clean -pair of sheets, which he proceeded to arrange on the bed. Busy at this -task, he paused to smile at Markart and say: "We must do the best we -can, Captain. After all, we have both camped, I expect! Here's the bed -for you--you'll do finely." He went back to the cupboard and lugged out -a mattress. "And this is for me--the shake-down on the floor which I use -when I sleep in the King's room--or did use, I should say. In my -judgment, Captain, it's comfortable to go to bed on the floor--at least, -one can't fall." - -It was eight o'clock. They heard the outer door of the suite of rooms -open and shut. A man was moving about in the next room; if they could -judge by the sound of his steps, he also paid Dr. Natcheff a brief -visit. They heard the clink of dishes and of glass. - -"Dinner!" said Lepage. "Ah, that's not unwelcome! Have I permission?" -Markart nodded, and he opened the door. On the table in the -sitting-room was a savory dish, bread, and two bottles of wine. Captain -Sterkoff was just surveying the board he had spread, with his head on -one side. There was nothing peculiar in that; his head was permanently -stuck on one side--a list to starboard--since the Virgin with the lamp -had injured the vertebræ of his neck. But the attitude, together with -his beaked nose, made him look like a particularly vicious parrot. -Markart saw him through the open door and could not get the resemblance -out of his mind. - -"Supper, gentlemen!" said Sterkoff with malevolent mirth. "The Doctor -can't join you. He's a little upset and keeps his bed. A good appetite! -I trust not to be obliged to disturb you again to-night." - -Markart had come in by now, but he was too surly and sore to speak. -Without a word he plumped down into a chair by the table and rested his -chin on his hands, staring at the cloth. It was left to Lepage to bow to -Sterkoff, and to express their joint thanks. This task he performed with -sufficient urbanity. Then he broke into a laugh. - -"They must think it odd to see you carrying dishes and bottles about the -Palace, Captain?" - -"Possibly," agreed Sterkoff. "But you see, my friend, what they think in -the Palace doesn't matter very much, so long as none of them can get -outside." - -"Oh, they none of them spend the evening out?" - -"Would they wish to, when the King has an attack of influenza, and Dr. -Natcheff is in attendance? It would be unfeeling, Lepage!" - -"Horribly, Captain! Probably even the sentries would object?" - -"It's possible they would," Sterkoff agreed again. He drew himself up -and saluted Markart, who did not move or pay any attention. -"Good-night, Lepage." He turned to the door; his head seemed more cocked -on one side than ever. Lepage bade him "Good-night" very respectfully; -but as the key turned in the door, he murmured longingly: "Ah, if I -could knock that ugly mug the rest of the way off his shoulders!" - -He treated Markart with no less respect than he had accorded to -Sterkoff; he would not hear of sitting down at table with an officer, -but insisted on handing the dish and uncorking the wine. Markart -accepted his attentions and began to eat languidly, with utter want of -appetite. - -"Some wine, Captain, some wine to cheer you up in this tiresome duty of -guarding me!" cried Lepage, picking up a bottle in one hand and a glass -in the other. "Oh, but that wry-necked fellow has brought you a dirty -glass! A moment, Captain! I'll wash it." And off he bounded--not even -waiting to set down the bottle--into the little room beyond. - -His brain was working hard now, marshalling his resources against his -difficulties. The difficulties were thirty feet to fall, Sterkoff's -sentries, the broad, swift current of the Krath--for even in normal -times there was always a sentry on the bridge--then the search for -Zerkovitch in Slavna. His resources were a mattress, a spare pair of -sheets, and a phial half full of the draught which Dr. Natcheff had -prescribed for the King. - -"It's very unfortunate, but I've not the least notion how much would -kill him," thought Lepage, as he poured the medicine--presumably a -strong sedative--into the wine-glass and filled up with wine from the -bottle Sterkoff had provided. He came back, holding the glass aloft with -a satisfied air. "Now it's fit for a gentleman to drink out of," said -he, as he set it down by Markart's hand. The Captain took it up and -swallowed it at a draught. - -"Ugh! Corked, I think! Beastly, anyhow!" said he. - -"They poison us as well as shut us up!" cried Lepage in burlesque anger. -"Try the other bottle, Captain!" - -The other bottle was better, said Markart, and he drank pretty well the -whole of it, Lepage standing by and watching him with keen interest. It -was distressing not to know how much of the King's draught would kill; -it had been necessary to err on the safe side--the side safe for Lepage, -that is. - -Captain Markart thought he would smoke his cigar in the little room, -lying on the bed; he was tired and sleepy--very sleepy, there was no -denying it. Lepage sat down and ate and drank; he found no fault with -the wine in the first bottle. Then he went and looked at Markart. The -Captain lay in his shirt, breeches, and boots. He was sound asleep and -breathing heavily; his cigar had fallen on the sheet, but apparently had -been out before it fell. Lepage regarded him with pursed lips, shrugged -his shoulders, and slipped the Captain's revolver into his pocket. The -Captain's recovery must be left to Fate. - -For the next hour he worked at his pair of sheets, slicing, twisting, -and splicing. In the end he found himself possessed of a fairly stout -rope twelve or thirteen feet long, but he could find nothing solid to -tie it to near the window, except the bed, and that was a yard away. He -would still have a fall of some twenty feet, and the ground was hard -with a spring frost. There would be need of the mattress. He put out -all the lights in the room and cautiously raised the window. - -The night was dark, he could not see the ground. He stood there ten -minutes. Then he heard a measured tramp; a dark figure, just -distinguishable, came round the corner of the Palace, walked past the -window to the end of the building, turned, walked back, and disappeared. -Hurriedly Lepage struck a match and took the time. Again he waited, -again the figure came. Again he struck a light and took the time. He -went through this process five times before he felt reasonably sure that -he could rely on having ten minutes to himself if he started the moment -Sterkoff's sentry had gone round the corner of the building. - -He pulled the mattress up onto the sill of the window and waited. There -was no sound now but of Markart's stertorous breathing. But presently -the measured tramp below came, passed, turned, and passed away. Lepage -gave a last tug at the fastenings of his rope, threw the end out of -window, took the mattress, and dropped it very carefully as straight -down as he could. - -The next moment, in spite of Sterkoff, somebody had left the Palace. Why -not? The runaway was aware that the King was not really suffering from -influenza--he could spend an evening in Slavna without reproach! - -"I wish I knew the safest way to fall!" thought Lepage, dangling at the -end of his rope. It swayed about terribly; he waited awhile for it to -steady itself--he feared to miss the mattress; but he could not wait -long, or that measured tramp and that dark figure would come. There -would be a sudden spurt of light, and a report--and what of Lepage -then? He gathered his legs up behind his knees, took a long breath--and -fell. As luck would have it, though he landed on the very edge of the -mattress, yet he did land on it, and tumbled forward on his face, -shaken, but with bones intact. There was a numb feeling above his -knees--nothing worse than that. - -He drew another long breath. Heavy bodies--and even mattresses--fall -quickly; he must have seven or eight minutes yet! - -But no! Heavy bodies, even mattresses, falling quickly, make a noise. -Lepage, too, had come down with a thud, squashing hidden air out of the -interstices of the mattress. The silence of night will give resonance to -gentler sounds than that, which was as though a giant had squeezed his -mighty sponge. Lepage, on his numb knees, listened. The steps came, not -measured now, but running. The dark figure came running round the -corner. What next? Next the challenge--then the spurt of light and the -report! What of Lepage then? Nothing--so far as Lepage and the rest of -humanity for certainty knew. - -Of that nothing--actual or possible--Lepage did not approve. He hitched -the mattress onto his back, bent himself nearly double, and, thus both -burdened and protected, made for the river. He must have looked like a -turtle scurrying to the sea, lest he should be turned over--and so left -for soup in due season. - -"Who goes there? Halt! Halt!" - -The turtle scurried on; it was no moment to stop and discuss matters. - -The spurt of light, the report! There was a hole in the mattress, but -well above Lepage's head. Indeed, if hit at all, he was not most likely -to be hit in the head; that vital portion of him was tucked away too -carefully. He presented a broader aim; but the mattress masked him -nobly. - -There was another shot--the northwest corner of the mattress this time. -But the mattress was on the river's edge. The next instant it was -floating on the current of the Krath, and Sterkoff's sentry was -indulging in some very pretty practice at it. He hit it every time, -until the swift current carried it round the bend and out of sight. - -The whole thing seemed strange and rather uncanny to the sentry. He -grounded his rifle and wiped his brow. It had looked like a carpet -taking a walk on its own account--and then a swim! Superior officers -might be accustomed to such strange phenomena. The sentry was not. He -set off at a round pace to the guard-room; he did not even stay to -notice the white rope which dangled in the air from a first-floor -window. Had he stopped, he would have heard Markart's invincible, -drug-laden snoring. - -Lepage had separated himself from his good friend and ally, the -mattress, and dived under water while the sentry blazed away. He -welcomed the current which bore him rapidly from the dangerous -neighborhood of the Palace. He came to the surface fifty feet down -stream and made for the other side. He could manage no more than a very -slanting course, but he was a strong swimmer, lightly dressed, with an -in-door man's light kid shoes. He felt no distress; rather a vivid, -almost gleeful, excitement came upon him as he battled with the strong, -cold stream. He began to plume himself on the mattress. Only a Frenchman -would have thought of that! A Slavna man would have ran away with -unguarded flanks. A Volsenian would have stayed to kill the sentry, and -be shot down by Sterkoff's guard. Only a Frenchman would have thought of -the mattress! - -He made land a quarter of a mile below the Palace. Ah, it was colder on -the road there than struggling with the cold water! But his spirit was -not quenched. He laughed again--a trifle hysterically, perhaps. In spite -of Sterkoff he was spending the evening out! He set his feet for -Slavna--briskly, too! Nay, he ran, for warmth's sake, and because of -what the sentry might even now be reporting to Sterkoff, and, through -him, to General Stenovics. The thought brought him to a stand-still -again; there might be a cordon of sentries across the road! After a -moment's hesitation he broke away from the main road, struck due south, -and so ran when he could, walked when he must, two miles. - -He was getting terribly tired now, but not cold--rather he was -feverishly hot inside his clammy garments. He turned along a country -cross-road which ran west, and passed through a village, leaving the -Hôtel de Paris on the main road far to his right. At last he reached the -main road south and turned up it, heading again for Slavna and for the -bridge which crossed the South River. He passed the bridge without being -challenged as the Cathedral clock struck midnight from St. Michael's -Square. The worst of his task was accomplished. If now he could find -Zerkovitch! - -But he was sore spent; running was out of the question now; he slunk -slowly and painfully along the south boulevard, clinging close to the -fences of the gardens, seeking the shelter of the trees which overhung -them. - -Draggled, hatless, dirty, infinitely weary, at last he reached -Zerkovitch's house at the corner where the boulevard and the Street of -the Fountain meet. He opened the garden gate and walked in. Spent as he -was, he breathed a "Bravo!" when he saw a light burning in the hall. He -staggered on, rang the bell, and fairly fell in a lump outside the door. - -He had done well; he, a man of peace, busy with clothes--he had done -well that night! But he was finished. When Zerkovitch opened the door, -he found little more than a heap of dank and dirty raiment; he hauled it -in and shut the door. He supported Lepage into the study, sat him down -by the fire, and got brandy for him to drink, pouring out full half a -tumbler. Lepage took it and drank the better part of it at a gulp. - -"The King died at five o'clock, Monsieur Zerkovitch," he said. He drank -the rest, let the tumbler fall with a crash in the fender, buried his -head on his breast, and fell into blank unconsciousness. - -He was out of the battle--as much as Markart, who slept the clock round -in spite of Stenovics's shakings and Dr. Natcheff's rubbings and -stimulants. But he had done his part. It was for Zerkovitch to do his -now. - -The King had died at five o'clock? It was certainly odd, that story, -because Zerkovitch had just returned from the offices of _The Patriot_; -and, immediately before he left, he had sent down to the foreman-printer -an official _communiqué_, to be inserted in his paper. It was to the -effect that Captain Mistitch and a guard of honor of fifty men would -leave Slavna next morning at seven o'clock for Dobrava, to be in -readiness to receive the King, who had made magnificent progress, and -was about to proceed to his country seat to complete his convalescence. - -Captain Mistitch and a guard of honor for Dobrava! Zerkovitch decided -that he would, if possible, ride ahead of them to Dobrava--that is, part -of the way. But first he called his old housekeeper and told her to put -Lepage to bed. - -"Don't worry about anything he says. He's raving," he added -thoughtfully. - -But poor Lepage raved no more that night. He did not speak again till -all was over. He had done his part. - -At five o'clock in the morning, Zerkovitch left Slavna, hidden under a -sack in a carrier's cart. He obtained a horse at a high price from a -farmer three miles along the road, and thence set out for the Castle at -his best speed. At six, Captain Mistitch, charged with Stafnitz's -careful instructions, set out with his guard of honor along the same -road--going to Dobrava to await the arrival of the King, who lay dead in -the Palace on the Krath! - -But since they started at six, and not at seven, as the official -_communiqué_ led Zerkovitch to suppose, he had an hour less to spare -than he thought. Moreover, they went not fifty strong, but one hundred. - -These two changes--of the hour and the force--were made as soon as -Stenovics and Stafnitz learned of Lepage's escape. A large force and a -midnight march would have aroused suspicion in Slavna. The General did -what he could safely do to meet the danger which the escape -suggested--the danger that news of the King's death might be carried to -Praslok before Mistitch and his escort got there. - - - - -XVII - -INGENIOUS COLONEL STAFNITZ - - -After his happy holiday the Prince slept well, and rose in a cheerful -mood--still joyful of heart. He anticipated that the day would bring him -a summons from his father; he had little doubt that in the course of a -personal interview he could persuade the King to agree to a postponement -of his journey. Of Sophy he meant to say nothing--by a reservation -necessary and not inexcusable. It was impossible not to take into -account the knowledge he had acquired of the state of the King's health. -The result of that condition was that his provision must, in all -likelihood, be for months only, and not for years. The task for the -months was to avoid disturbing the King's mind, so long as this course -was consistent with the maintenance of his own favorable position. It -must be remembered that no man in the kingdom built more on this latter -object than the King himself; no man was less a partisan of Countess -Ellenburg and of young Alexis than the husband of the one and the father -of the other. The royal line--the line which boasted Bourbon blood--was -for the King the only line of Stefanovitch. - -Of the attack prepared against him the Prince knew nothing--nothing even -of the King's mind having been turned against the Baroness Dobrava, -whom so short a time ago he had delighted to honor; nothing, of course, -of Stafnitz's audacious _coup_, nor of the secret plan which Stenovics -and the Colonel had made, and of which Mistitch was to be the -instrument. Of all the salient features of the situation, then, he was -ignorant, and his ignorance was shared by those about his person. On the -other hand, Stenovics had his finger on every thread save one--the -Lepage-Zerkovitch thread, if it may so be called. That was important, -but its importance might be nullified if Mistitch made good speed. - -On the whole, the odds were much in favor of the coterie. If by any -means they could prevent the King from coming alive and free to Slavna, -the game would be theirs. If he did come alive and free, their game -would probably be up. His presence would mean a hard fight--or a -surrender; and Slavna had no stomach for such a fight--though it would -be piously thankful to be rid of Sergius, whether as Prince or King, -without the necessity of an ordeal so severe. - -As a preliminary to the summons he anticipated, and to a possible stay -of some days with his father at Slavna, the Prince had details to -discuss and routine business to transact with Lukovitch, the captain of -his battery in Volseni. He was early on horseback; Sophy and Max von -Hollbrandt (Max's stay at the Castle was to end the next day) rode with -him as far as the gates of the city; there they left him and turned down -into the plain, to enjoy a canter on the banks of Lake Talti. The three -were to meet again for the mid-day meal at Praslok. Marie Zerkovitch had -been ailing, and kept her bed in the morning. The Prince's mounted guard -rode behind him and his friends to Volseni, for the sake of exercising -their horses. In the Castle there were left only Marie Zerkovitch and -the servants. The Prince did not anticipate that any message would come -from the Palace before noon at the earliest. - -Morning avocations pursued their usual peaceful and simple course at the -Castle; old Vassip, his wife, and the maids did their cleaning; Peter -Vassip saw to his master's clothes, and then, to save his father labor, -began to sluice the wooden causeway; the stablemen groomed their -horses--they had been warned that the Prince might want another mount -later in the day. Marie Zerkovitch lay in her bed, sleeping soundly -after a restless night. There seemed no hint of trouble in the air. It -must be confessed that up to now it looked as though Praslok would be -caught napping. - -It was Peter Vassip, busy on the causeway, who first saw Zerkovitch. He -rested and leaned on his mop to watch the head which rose over the hill, -the body that followed, the farm-horse lumbering along in a slow, -clumsy, unwilling gallop. The man was using stick and spur--he was -riding mercilessly. Peter ran down to the road and waited. A groom came -across from the stables and joined him. - -"He's got no call to treat the horse like that, whoever he is," the -groom observed. - -"Not unless he's on urgent business," said Peter, twirling the water -from his mop. - -Zerkovitch was up to them; he leaped from his horse. "I must see the -Prince," he cried, "and immediately!" - -"The Prince is at Volseni, sir; he rode over to see Captain Lukovitch." - -"When will he be back?" - -"We don't expect him till twelve o'clock." - -Zerkovitch snatched out his watch. - -"There's nobody here but Madame Zerkovitch, sir; she's still in bed, not -very well, sir." - -"Twelve o'clock!" muttered Zerkovitch, paying no heed to the news about -his wife. - -"The Baroness and Baron von Hollbrandt are out riding--" - -"Can you give me a fresh horse? I must ride on and find the Prince at -Volseni." - -"Oh yes, sir." He signed to the groom. "And hurry up!" he added. - -"The guard's here, of course?" - -"No, sir. They've gone with the Prince." - -Zerkovitch twitched his head irritably and again looked at his watch. -"There must be time," he said. "They can't be here at soonest for an -hour and a half." - -Peter Vassip did not understand him, but neither did he venture to ask -questions. - -"Your horse 'll be here in a minute, sir. I think you'll find the Prince -in his office over the city gate. He went to do business, not to drill, -this morning." - -Zerkovitch looked at him for a moment, wondering, perhaps, whether he -would be wise to tell his news. But what was the use of telling Peter -Vassip? Or his own wife? What could she do? It was for the Prince to say -who should be told. The one thing was to find the Prince. There was -time--at the very least an hour and a half. - -The groom brought the fresh horse, and Zerkovitch began to mount. - -"A glass of wine, sir?" Peter Vassip suggested. He had marked -Zerkovitch's pale face and strained air; he had wondered to see his -clothes sprinkled with whitey-brown fibres--traces of the sack under -whose cover he had slid out of Slavna. - -Zerkovitch was in the saddle. "No," he answered. "But a bumper, Peter, -when I've found the Prince!" He set spurs to his horse and was off at a -gallop for Volseni; the road, though high on the hills, was nearly level -now. - -Peter scratched his head as he looked after him for a moment; then he -returned to his mop. - -He was just finishing his task, some twenty minutes later, when he heard -Sophy's laugh. She and Hollbrandt came from a lane which led up from the -lake and joined the main road a hundred yards along towards Volseni. -Peter ran and took their horses, and they mounted the causeway in -leisurely, pleasant chat. Sophy was in her sheepskin uniform; her cheeks -were pale, but the Star glowed. The world seemed good to her that -morning. - -"And that is, roughly, the story of my life," she said with a laugh, as -she reached the top of the causeway and leaned against the rude -balustrade which ran up the side of it. - -"A very interesting one--even very remarkable," he said, returning her -laugh. "But much more remains to be written, I don't doubt, Baroness." - -"Something, perhaps," said Sophy. - -"A good deal, I imagine!" - -She shot a mischievous glance at him: she knew that he was trying to -lure from her an avowal of her secret. "Who can tell? It all seems like -a dream sometimes, and dreams end in sudden awakenings, you know." - -"If it's a dream, you make an excellent dream-lady, Baroness." - -Peter Vassip put his mop and pail down by the stables, and came up and -stood beside them. - -"Did the mare carry you well to-day, sir?" he asked Max. - -"Admirably, Peter. We had a splendid ride--at least I thought so. I hope -the Baroness--?" - -Sophy threw out her arms as though to embrace the gracious world. "I -thought it beautiful; I think everything beautiful to-day. I think you -beautiful, Baron von Hollbrandt--and Peter is beautiful--and so is your -mother, and so is your father, Peter. And I half believe that, just this -morning--this one splendid morning--I'm beautiful myself. Yes, in spite -of this horrible mark on my cheek!" - -"I hear something," said Peter Vassip. - -"Just this morning--this one splendid morning--I agree with you," -laughed Max. "Not even the mark shall change my mind! Come, you love the -mark--the Red Star--don't you?" - -"Well, yes," said Sophy, with a little, confidential nod and smile. - -"I hear something," said Peter Vassip, with his hand to his ear. - -Sophy turned to him, smiling. "What do you hear, Peter?" - -He gave a sudden start of recollection. "Ah, has that anything to do -with Monsieur Zerkovitch?" - -"Monsieur Zerkovitch?" broke from them both. - -"He's been here; he's ridden at a gallop on to Volseni--to find the -Prince." He added briefly all there was to add--his hand at his ear all -the time. - -"Hum! That looks like news," said Max. "What can it be?" - -"He didn't stop even to tell Marie! It must be urgent." - -They looked in one another's faces. "Can there be--be anything wrong in -Slavna?" - -"You mean--the troops?" - -"I had thought of that." - -"I can think of nothing but that. If it were anything from the Palace, -it would come by a royal courier sooner than by any other hand." - -"I can hear plainly now," said Peter Vassip. "Listen!" - -They obeyed him, but their ears were not so well trained. A dull, -indefinite sound was all they could distinguish. - -"Horses--a number of them. Mounted men it must be--the hoofs are so -regular. Cavalry!" - -"It's the Prince coming back from Volseni!" cried Sophy. - -"No, it's from the other direction; and, besides, there are too many for -that." - -Mounted men on the Slavna road--and too many to be the Prince's guard! - -"What can it be?" asked Sophy in a low voice. - -"I don't know. Zerkovitch's arrival must be connected with the same -thing, I think." - -"There! There are their shakoes coming over the rise of the hill!" cried -Peter Vassip. - -The next moment showed the company. They rode in fours, with sergeants -on the flanks. The officer in command was behind--the three on the -causeway could not see him yet. They were Hussars of the King's Guard, -the best regiment in the army. The Prince of Slavna had made them good -soldiers--they hated him for it. But Stafnitz was their colonel. On they -came; in their blue tunics and silver braid they made a brave show in -the sunshine. - -The three watched now without word or motion. The sudden sight held them -spellbound. Not one of them thought of sending to warn the Prince. If -they had, the thought would have been useless, unless it had chimed in -with Mistitch's will. Twenty men could have been on them before there -was time to saddle a horse. If the expedition were a hostile one, the -Castle was caught napping in very truth! - -Sophy stood forward a pace in front of her companions; her hand rested -on the little revolver which Monseigneur had given her. - -On came the company; the foremost file reached within twenty yards of -the causeway. There they halted. Half of them dismounted, each man as he -did so intrusting his horse to his next fellow. Half of the fifty thus -left mounted repeated this operation, leaving the remaining twenty-five -in charge of all the horses. The seventy-five took position, four deep, -on the road. They separated, lining either side. - -The figure of their commander now appeared. He rode to the foot of the -causeway, then dismounted, and gave his horse to the sergeant who -attended him. His men followed and drew up in the road, blocking the -approach to the Castle. Big Mistitch began to ascend the causeway, a -broad smile on his face. It was a great moment for Captain Hercules--the -day of revenge for which he had waited in forced patience and discreet -unobtrusiveness. It was a critical day, also, in view of the -instructions he had. To do him justice, he was not afraid. - -Sophy saw and knew. This must have been the news that Zerkovitch -carried, that he had galloped on to tell to the Prince at Volseni. Some -event--some unknown and untoward turn of fortune--had loosed Mistitch on -them! That was all she had time to realize before Mistitch saluted her -and spoke. - -"I have the honor of addressing the Baroness Dobrava?" - -"You know me well, I think, Captain Mistitch, and I know you." - -"Our journey together will be all the pleasanter for that." - -"Your business with me, please?" - -"I have it in command from his Majesty to escort you to Slavna--to the -Palace and into his presence. The King himself will then acquaint you -with his wishes." - -"You're a strange messenger to send." - -"That's a point to put to my superior officer, Colonel Stafnitz, who -sent me, Baroness." - -Sophy pointed at his men. "You ride strongly supported!" - -"Again the Colonel's orders, Baroness. I confess the precautions seemed -to me excessive. I had no doubt you would willingly obey his Majesty's -commands. Here, by-the-way, is the written order." He produced the order -the King had signed before his death. - -Sophy had been thinking. Neither her courage nor her cunning forsook -her. She waved the document away. "I can take your word, Captain? You're -making no mistake to-day?--I really am Baroness Dobrava--not somebody -else with whom you have a feud?" She laughed at him gayly and went on: -"Well, I'm ready. I'm dressed for a ride--and I'll ride with you -immediately. In two minutes we'll be off." She saw a groom in the road -staring at the troopers, and called to him to bring her a horse. - -This prompt obedience by no means suited Mistitch's book. It forced him -either to show his hand or to ride off with Sophy, leaving the Prince to -his devices--and, in a little while, to his revenge. - -"I mustn't hurry you. You have some preparations--?" - -"None," said Sophy. Her horse was led out into the road. - -"You'll at least desire to acquaint his Royal Highness--?" - -"Not at all necessary. Baron von Hollbrandt can do that later on." - -Mistitch looked puzzled. Sophy smiled; her intuition had been right. The -attack on her was a feint, her arrest a blind; the Prince was the real -object of the move. She stepped down towards Mistitch. - -"I see my horse is ready. We can start at once, Captain," she said. - -"I'm instructed to express to the Prince regret that it should be -necessary--" - -"The regret will be conveyed to him. Come, Captain!" - -But Mistitch barred her way. - -"His Royal Highness is in the Castle?" he asked. His voice grew angry -now; he feared the great stroke had failed; he saw that Sophy played -with him. How would he and his escort look riding back to Slavna with -nothing to show for their journey save the capture of one unresisting -woman--a woman whom they dared not harm while the Prince remained free, -and might become all-powerful? - -"If he had been, you'd have known it by now, I think," smiled Sophy. -"No, the Prince isn't at the Castle." - -"I'll see that for myself!" Mistitch cried, taking a step forward. - -With a low laugh Sophy drew aside, passed him, and ran down the -causeway. In an instant she darted between the ranks of Mistitch's men -and reached her horse. The groom mounted her. She looked up to Mistitch -and called to him gayly: - -"Now for Slavna, Captain! And hurry, or you'll be left behind!" - -Her wit was too quick for him. Max von Hollbrandt burst out laughing; -Peter Vassip grinned. - -"What are you waiting for, Captain?" asked Max. "Your prisoner's only -too anxious to go with you, you see!" - -"I'll search the Castle first!" he cried in a rage which made him forget -his part. - -Peter Vassip sprang forward and barred the way. Mistitch raised his -mighty arm. But Sophy's voice rang out gayly: - -"Nonsense, Peter! There's nothing to conceal. Let the Captain pass!" - -Her words stopped Mistitch--he feared a trap. Max saw it and mocked him. -"Don't be afraid, Captain--take fifty men in with you. The garrison -consists of a lady in bed, an old man, and five female servants." - -Sophy heard and laughed. Even the troopers began to laugh now. Mistitch -stood on the top of the causeway, irresolute, baffled, furious. - -But behind his stupidity lay the cunning astuteness of Stafnitz, the -ingenious bit of devilry. Mistitch's name availed where his brain could -not. For the moment the Prince made little of the Crown which had become -his; when he heard Zerkovitch's news, his overpowering thought was that -the woman he loved might be exposed to the power and the insults of -Mistitch. Sophy was playing a skilful game for him, but he did not know -it. - -"I hear something," said Peter Vassip again, whispering to Max von -Hollbrandt. - -Yes, there was the galloping of horses on the Volseni road! - -Colonel Stafnitz had not miscalculated. - -Now Mistitch heard the sound. His heavy face brightened. He ran down the -causeway, loudly ordering his men to mount. He was no longer at a loss. -He had his cue now--the cue Stafnitz had given him. - - - - -XVIII - -TO THE FAITHFUL CITY - - -The King had died yesterday--yet none had told his heir! Mistitch had -set out for Dobrava with fifty men to wait for the King--who was dead! -The dead King would never go to Dobrava--and no messenger came to the -new King at Praslok! - -Zerkovitch's news was enough to raise the anger of a King--and Sergius -blazed with it. But more potent still was his wrathful fear as he -thought of Sophy at Praslok, in the power of Captain Hercules. - -He had his guard of twenty mounted men with him. With these he at once -set forth, bidding Lukovitch collect all the men he could and follow him -as speedily as possible. If Mistitch had really gone to Dobrava, then he -would find him there and have the truth out of him. But if, as the -Prince hardly doubted, he was making for Praslok, there was time to -intercept him, time to carry off Sophy and the other inmates of the -Castle, send them back to safety within the walls of Volseni, and -himself ride on to meet Mistitch with his mind at ease. - -Relying on Zerkovitch's information, he assumed that the troopers had -not started from Slavna till seven in the morning. They had started at -six. He reckoned also on Zerkovitch's statement, that they were but -fifty strong. They were a hundred. Yet, had he known the truth, he could -not have used more haste--and he would not have waited for another man! -He stayed to tell no man in Volseni the news about his father--except -Lukovitch. But as his twenty rode out of the gate behind him, he turned -his head to Zerkovitch, who trotted beside him--for Zerkovitch neither -could nor would rest till the game was played--and said: "Tell them that -the King is dead, and that I reign." Zerkovitch whispered the news to -the man next him, and it ran along the line. A low, stern cheer, hardly -more than a murmured assurance of loyalty and service, came from the -lips of the men in sheepskins. - -Mistitch saw them coming, and turned to his troop; he had time for a -little speech--and Stafnitz had taught him what to say: "Men, you are -servants of the King, and of the King only. Not even the Prince of -Slavna can command you against the King's orders. The King's orders are -that we take Baroness Dobrava to Slavna, no matter who resists. If need -be, these orders stand even against the Prince." - -Stafnitz's soldiers--the men he petted, the men who had felt the -Prince's stern hand--were only too glad to hear it. To strike for the -King and yet against the hated Prince--it was a luxury, a happy and -unlooked-for harmonizing of their duty and their pleasure. Their -answering cheer was loud and fierce. - -It struck harsh on the ears of the advancing Prince. His face grew hard -and strained as he heard the shouts and saw the solid body of men across -his path, barring access to his own castle. And within a yard or two of -their ranks, by the side of the road, sat the figure which he knew so -well and so well loved. - -Now Mistitch played his card--that move in the game which Sophy's cool -submission to his demand had for the moment thwarted, but to which the -Prince's headlong anger and fear now gave an opening--the opening which -Stafnitz had from the first foreseen. It would need little to make the -fiery Prince forget prudence when he was face to face with Mistitch. It -was not a safe game for Mistitch personally--both Stafnitz and he knew -that. But Captain Hercules was confident. He would not be caught twice -by the Volseni trick of sword! The satisfaction of his revenge, and the -unstinted rewards that his Colonel offered, made it worth his while to -accept the risk, and rendered it grateful to his heart. - -Sophy sat smiling. She would fain have averted the encounter, and had -shaped her manoeuvres to that end. It was not to be so, it seemed. -Now, she did not doubt Monseigneur's success. But she wished that -Zerkovitch had not reached Volseni so quickly, that the Prince had -stayed behind his walls till his plans were ready; and that she was -going a prisoner to Slavna to see the King, trusting to her face, her -tongue, her courage, and the star of her own fortune. Never had her -buoyant self-confidence run higher. - -On the top of the causeway, Max von Hollbrandt looked to his revolver, -Peter Vassip loosened his knife in its leather sheath. A window above -the gate opened, and Marie Zerkovitch's frightened face looked out. The -women-servants jostled old Vassip in the doorway. The grooms stood -outside the stables. No one moved--only the Prince's little troop came -on. When they were fifty yards away, Mistitch cried to his men: "Draw -swords!" and himself pricked his horse with his spur and rode up to -where Sophy was. - -Mistitch drew his horse up parallel to Sophy's, head to tail, on her -right side, between her and the approaching force. With the instinct of -hatred she shrank away from him; it had all been foreseen and rehearsed -in Stafnitz's mind! Mistitch cried loudly: "In the King's name, Baroness -Dobrava!" He leaned from the saddle and caught her right wrist in his -huge hand: he had the justification that, at his first attempt to touch -her, Sophy's hand had flown to her little revolver and held it now. -Mistitch crushed her wrist--the revolver fell to the ground. Sophy gave -one cry of pain. Mistitch dropped her wrist and reached his arm about -her waist. He was pulling her from her horse, while again he cried out: -"In the King's name! On guard!" - -It was a high jump from the top of the causeway, but two men took it -side by side--Max von Hollbrandt, revolver in hand, Peter Vassip with -knife unsheathed. - -As they leaped, another shout rang out: "Long live King Sergius!" - -The Prince rode his fastest, but faster still rode Zerkovitch. He -outpaced the Prince and rode right in among Mistitch's men, crying -loudly again and again, unceasingly: "The King is dead! The King is -dead! The King is dead!" - -Then came the Prince; he rode full at Mistitch. His men followed him, -and dashed with a shock against the troopers of Mistitch's escort. As -they rode, they cried: "Long live King Sergius!" They had unhorsed a -dozen men and wounded four or five before they realized that they met -with no resistance. Mistitch's men were paralyzed. The King was -dead--they were to fight against the King! The magic of the name worked. -They dropped the points of their swords. The Volsenians, hesitating to -strike men who did not defend themselves, puzzled and in doubt, turned -to their Bailiff--their King--for his orders. - -As the Prince came up, Mistitch hurled Sophy from him; she fell from her -horse, but fell on the soft, grassy road-side, and sprang up unhurt save -for a cruel pain in her crushed wrist. She turned her eyes whither all -eyes were turned now. The general battle was stayed, but not the single -combat. For a moment none moved save the two who were now to engage. - -The fight of the Street of the Fountain fell to be fought again. For -when Peter Vassip was darting forward, knife in hand, with a spring like -a mountain goat's, his master's voice called: "Mine, Peter, mine!" It -was the old cry when they shot wild-boar in the woods about Dobrava, and -it brought Peter Vassip to a stand. Max von Hollbrandt, too, lowered his -pointed revolver. Who should stand between his quarry and the King, -between Sophy's lover and the man who had so outraged her? Big Mistitch -was the King's game, and the King's only, that day. - -Mistitch's chance was gone, and he must have known it. Where was the -sergeant who had undertaken to cover him? He had turned tail. Where was -the enveloping rush of his men, which should have engulfed and paralyzed -the enemy? Paralysis was on his men themselves; they believed -Zerkovitch, and lacked appetite for the killing of a King. Where was his -triumphant return to Slavna, his laurels, his rewards, his wonderful -swaggerings at the Golden Lion? They were all gone. Even though he -killed the King, there were two dozen men vowed to have his life. They -must have it--but at what price? His savage valor set the figure high. - -It was the old fight again, but not in the old manner. There was no -delicate sword-play, no fluctuating fortunes in the fray. It was all -stem and short. The King had not drawn his sword, Mistitch did not seek -to draw his. Two shots rang out sharply--that was all. The King reeled -in his saddle, but maintained his seat. Big Mistitch threw his hands -above his head with a loud cry and fell with a mighty crash on the road, -shot through the head. Peter Vassip ran to the King and helped him to -dismount, while Max von Hollbrandt held his horse. Sophy hurried to -where they laid him by the road-side. - -"Disarm these fellows!" cried Zerkovitch. - -But Mistitch's escort were in no mood to wait for this operation; nor to -stay and suffer the anger of the King. With their leader's fall the last -of heart was out of them. Wrenching themselves free from such of the -Volsenians as sought to arrest their flight, they turned their horses' -heads and fled, one and all, for Slavna. The King's men attempted no -pursuit; they clustered round the spot where he lay. - -"I'm hit," he said to Sophy, "but not badly, I think." - -From the Castle door, down the causeway, came Marie Zerkovitch, weeping -passionately, wringing her hands. The soldiers parted their close ranks -to let her through. She came to the road-side where Sophy supported -Monseigneur's head upon her knees. Sophy looked up and saw her. Marie -did not speak. She stood there sobbing and wringing her hands over Sophy -and the wounded King. - -That afternoon--an hour after the first of the straggling rout of -Mistitch's escort came in--King Alexis died suddenly! So ran the -official notice, endorsed by Dr. Natcheff's high authority. The coterie -were in up to their necks; they could not go back now; they must go -through with it. Countess Ellenburg took to her knees; Stenovics and -Stafnitz held long conversations. Every point of tactical importance in -the city was occupied by troops. Slavna was silent, expectant, curious. - -Markart awoke at five o'clock, heavy of head, dry in the mouth, sick and -ill. He found himself no longer in the King's suite, but in one of the -apartments which Stafnitz had occupied. He was all alone; the door stood -open. He understood that he was no more a prisoner; he knew that the -King was dead! - -But who else was dead--and who alive--and who King in Slavna? - -He forced himself to rise, and hurried through the corridors of the -Palace. They were deserted; there was nobody to hinder him, nobody of -whom to ask a question. He saw a decanter of brandy standing near the -door of one room, and drank freely of it. Then he made his way into the -garden. He saw men streaming over the bridge towards Slavna, and -hastened after them as quickly as he could. His head was still in a -maze; he remembered nothing after drinking the glass of wine which -Lepage the valet had given him. But he was possessed by a strong -excitement, and he followed obstinately in the wake of the throng which -set from the Palace and the suburbs into Slavna. - -The streets were quiet; soldiers occupied the corners of the ways; they -looked curiously at Markart's pale face and disordered uniform. A dull -roar came from the direction of St. Michael's Square, and thither -Markart aimed his course. He found all one side of the Square full of a -dense crowd, swaying, jostling, talking. On the other side troops were -massed; in an open space in front of the troops, facing the crowd, was -Colonel Stafnitz, and by his side a little boy on a white pony. - -Markart was too far off to hear what Stafnitz said when he began to -speak--nay, the cheers of the troops behind the Colonel came so sharp on -his words as almost to drown them; and after a moment's hesitation (as -it seemed to Markart), the crowd of people on the other side of the -Square echoed back the acclamations of the soldiers. - -All Countess Ellenburg's ambitions were at stake; for Stenovics and -Stafnitz it was a matter of life itself now, so daringly had they raised -their hands against King Sergius. Countess Ellenburg had indeed -prayed--and now prayed all alone in a deserted Palace--but not one of -the three had hesitated. At the head of a united army, in the name of a -united people, Stafnitz had demanded the proclamation of young Alexis as -King. For an hour Stenovics had made a show of demurring; then he bowed -to the national will. That night young Alexis enjoyed more honor than he -had asked of Lepage the valet--he was called not Prince, but Majesty. He -was King in Slavna, and the first work to which they set his childish -hand was the proclamation of a state of siege. - -Slavna chose him willingly--or because it must at the bidding of the -soldiers. But Volseni was of another mind. They would not have the -German woman's son to reign over them. Into that faithful city the -wounded King threw himself with all his friends. - -The body of Mistitch lay all day and all night by the wayside. Next -morning at dawn the King's grooms came back from Volseni and buried it -under a clump of trees by the side of the lane running down to Lake -Talti. Their curses were the only words spoken over the grave; and they -flattened the earth level with the ground again, that none might know -where the man rested who had lifted his hand against their master. - -The King was carried to Volseni sore stricken; they did not know whether -he would live or die. He had a dangerous wound in the lungs, and, to -make matters worse, the surgical skill available in Volseni was very -primitive. - -But in that regard fortune brought aid, and brought also to Sophy a -strange conjuncture of the new life with the old. The landlord of the -inn sent word to Lukovitch that two foreign gentlemen had arrived at his -house that afternoon, and that the passport of one of them described him -as a surgeon; the landlord had told him how things stood, and he was -anxious to render help. - -It was Basil Williamson. Dunstanbury and he, accompanied by Henry Brown, -Dunstanbury's servant, had reached Volseni that day on their return from -a tour in the Crimea and round the shores of the Sea of Azof. - - - - -XIX - -THE SILVER RING - - -It was late at night, and quiet reigned in Volseni--the quiet not of -security, but of ordered vigilance. A light burned in every house; men -lined the time-worn walls and camped in the market-place; there were -scouts out on the road as far as Praslok. No news came from outside, and -no news yet from the room in the guard-house where the wounded King lay. -The street on which the room looked was empty, save for one man, who -walked patiently up and down, smoking a cigar. Dunstanbury waited for -Basil Williamson, who was in attendance on the King and was to pronounce -to Volseni whether he could live or must die. - -Dunstanbury had been glad that Basil could be of use, but for the rest -he had listened to the story which Zerkovitch told him with an amused, -rather contemptuous indifference--with an Englishman's wonder why other -countries cannot manage their affairs better, and something of a -traveller's pleasure at coming in for a bit of such vivid, almost -blazing "local color" in the course of his journey. But whether Alexis -reigned, or Sergius, mattered nothing to him, and, in his opinion, very -little to anybody else. - -Nor had he given much thought to the lady whose name figured so -prominently in Zerkovitch's narrative, the Baroness Dobrava. Such a -personage seemed no less appropriate to the surroundings than the rest -of the story--no less appropriate and certainly not a whit more -important. Of course he hoped Basil would make a good report, but his -mind was not disturbed; his chief hope was that the claims of humanity -would not prolong his stay in Volseni beyond a few days. It was a -picturesque little place, but not one for a long visit; and in any case -he was homeward bound now, rather eager for the pleasures of the London -season after his winter journey--the third he had made in the interests -of a book on Russia which he had in contemplation, a book designed to -recommend him as an expert student of foreign affairs. He could hardly -consider that these goings-on in Kravonia came within the purview of a -serious study of his subject. But it was a pleasant, moonlit night, the -old street was very quaint, the crisis he had happened on bizarre and -amusing. He smoked his cigar and waited for Basil without impatience. - -He had strolled a hundred yards away and just turned to loiter back, -when he saw a figure come out of the guard-house, pause for a moment, -and then advance slowly towards him. The sheepskin cap and tunic made -him think at first that the stranger was one of the Volsenian levy; the -next moment he saw the skirt. At once he guessed that he was in the -presence of Baroness Dobrava, the heroine of the piece, as he had called -her in his own mind and with a smile. - -Evidently she meant to speak to him; he threw away his cigar and walked -to meet her. As they drew near to each other he raised his hat. Sophy -bowed gravely. Thus they met for the first time since Sophy washed her -lettuces in the scullery at Morpingham, and, at the young lord's -bidding, fetched Lorenzo the Magnificent a bone. This meeting was, -however remotely, the result of that. Dunstanbury had started her career -on the road which had led her to where she was. - -"I've seen Mr. Williamson," she said, "and he knows me now. But you -don't yet, do you, Lord Dunstanbury? And anyhow, perhaps, you wouldn't -remember." - -She had been a slip of a girl when he saw her last, in a print frock, -washing lettuces. With a smile and a deprecatory gesture he confessed -his ignorance and his surprise. "Really, I'm afraid I--I don't. I've -been such a traveller, and meet so many--" An acquaintance with Baroness -Dobrava was among the last with which he would have credited himself--or -perhaps (to speak his true thoughts), charged his reputation. - -"Mr. Williamson knew me almost directly--the moment I reminded him of my -mark." She touched her cheek. Dunstanbury looked more closely at her, a -vague recollection stirring in him. Sophy's face was very sad, yet she -smiled just a little as she added: "I remember you so well--and your dog -Lorenzo. I'm Sophy Grouch of Morpingham, and I became Lady Meg's -companion. Now do you remember?" - -He stepped quickly up to her, peered into her eyes, and saw the Red -Star. - -"Good Heavens!" he said, smiling at her in an almost helpless way. -"Well, that is curious!" he added. "Sophy Grouch! And you are--Baroness -Dobrava?" - -"There's nothing much in that," said Sophy. "I'll tell you all about -that soon, if we have time. To-night I can think of nothing but -Monseigneur. Mr. Williamson has extracted the bullet, but I'm afraid -he's very bad. You won't take Mr. Williamson away until--until it's -settled--one way or the other, will you?" - -"Neither Basil nor I will leave so long as we can be of the least -service to you," he told her. - -With a sudden impulse she put her hands in his. "It's strangely good to -find you here to-night--so strange and so good! It gives me strength, -and I want strength. Oh, my friends are brave men, but you--well, -there's something in home and the same blood, I suppose." - -Dunstanbury thought that there was certainly something in having two -Englishmen about, instead of Kravonians only, but such a blunt sentiment -might not be acceptable. He pressed her hands as he released them. - -"I rejoice at the chance that brings us here. You can have every -confidence in Basil. He's a first-rate man. But tell me about yourself. -We have time now, haven't we?" - -"Really, I suppose we have! Monseigneur has been put to sleep. But I -couldn't sleep. Come, we'll go up on the wall." - -They mounted on to the city wall, just by the gate, and leaned against -the mouldering parapets. Below lay Lake Talti in the moonlight, and -beyond it the masses of the mountains. Yet while Sophy talked, -Dunstanbury's eyes seldom left her face; nay, once or twice he caught -himself not listening, but only looking, tracing how she had grown from -Sophy Grouch in her scullery to this. He had never forgotten the strange -girl: once or twice he and Basil had talked of her; he had resented Lady -Meg's brusque and unceremonious dismissal of her protégée; in his -memory, half-overgrown, had lain the mark on Sophy's cheek. Now here she -was, in Kravonia, of all places--Baroness Dobrava, of all people! And -what else, who knew? The train of events which had brought this about -was strange; yet his greater wonder was for the woman herself. - -"And here we are!" she ended with a woful smile. "If Monseigneur lives, -I think we shall win. For the moment we can do no more than hold -Volseni; I think we can do that. But presently, when he's better and can -lead us, we shall attack. Down in Slavna they won't like being ruled by -the Countess and Stenovics as much as they expect. Little by little we -shall grow stronger." Her voice rose a little. "At last Monseigneur will -sit firm on his throne," she said. "Then we'll see what we can do for -Kravonia. It's a fine country, and rich, Lord Dunstanbury, and outside -Slavna the people are good material. We shall be able to make it very -different--if Monseigneur lives." - -"And if not?" he asked, in a low voice. - -"What is it to me except for Monseigneur? If he dies--!" Her hands -thrown wide in a gesture of despair ended her sentence. - -If she lived and worked for Kravonia, it was for Monseigneur's sake. -Without him, what was Kravonia to her? Such was her mood; plainly she -took no pains to conceal it from Dunstanbury. The next moment she turned -to him with a smile. "You think I talk strangely, saying: 'We'll do this -and that'? Yes, you must, and it's suddenly become strange to me to say -it--to say it to you, because you've brought back the old things to my -mind, and all this is so out of keeping with the old things--with Sophy -Grouch, and Julia Robins, and Morpingham! But until you came it didn't -seem strange. Everything that has happened since I came to this country -seemed to lead up to it--to bring it about naturally and irresistibly. I -forgot till just now how funny it must sound to you--and how--how bad, I -suppose. Well, you must accustom yourself to Kravonia. It's not Essex, -you know." - -"If the King lives?" he asked. - -"I shall be with Monseigneur if he lives," she answered. - -Yes, it was very strange; yet already, even now--when he had known her -again for half an hour, had seen her and talked to her--gradually and -insidiously it began to seem less strange, less fantastic, more natural. -Dunstanbury had to give himself a mental shake to get back to Essex and -to Sophy Grouch. Volseni set old and gray amid the hills, the King whose -breath struggled with his blood for life, the beautiful woman who would -be with the King if and so long as he lived--these were the present -realities he saw in vivid immediate vision; they made the shadows of the -past seem not indeed dim--they kept all their distinctness of outline in -memory--but in their turn fantastic, and in no relation to the actual. -Was that the air of Kravonia working on him? Or was it a woman's voice, -the pallid pride of a woman's face? - -"In Slavna they call me a witch," she said, "and tell terrible tales -about this little mark--my Red Star. But here in Volseni they like -me--yes, and I can win over Slavna, too, if I get the opportunity. No, I -sha'n't be a weakness to Monseigneur if he lives." - -"You'll be--?" - -"His wife?" she interrupted. "Yes." She smiled again--nay, almost -laughed. "That seems worst of all--worse than anything else?" - -Dunstanbury allowed himself to smile too. "Well, yes, of course that's -true," he said. "Out of Kravonia, anyhow. What's true in Kravonia I -really don't know yet." - -"I suppose it's true in Kravonia too. But what I tell you is -Monseigneur's will about me." - -He looked hard at her. "You love him?" he asked. - -"As my life, and more," said Sophy, simply. - -At last Dunstanbury ceased to look at her; he laid his elbows on the -battlements and stood there, his eyes roaming over the lake in the -valley to the mountains beyond. Sophy left his side, and began to walk -slowly up and down the rugged, uneven, overgrown surface of the walls. - -The moon was sinking in the sky; there would be three or four dark hours -before the dawn. A man galloped up to the gate and gave a countersign in -return to a challenge; the heavy gates rolled open; he rode in; another -rode out and cantered off along the road towards Praslok. There was -watch and ward--Volseni was not to be caught napping as Praslok had -been. Whether the King lived or died, his Volsenians were on guard. -Dunstanbury turned his back on the hills and came up to Sophy. - -"We Essex folk ought to stand by one another," he said. "It's the merest -chance that has brought me here, but I'm glad of the chance now. And -it's beginning to feel not the least strange. So long as you've need of -help, count me among your soldiers." - -"But you oughtn't to mix yourself up--" - -"Did you act on that principle when you came to Kravonia?" - -With a smile Sophy gave him her hand. "So be it. I accept your -service--for Monseigneur." - -"I give it to you," he persisted. - -"Yes--and all that is mine I give to Monseigneur," said Sophy. - -Any man who meets, or after an interval of time meets again, an -attractive woman, only to find that her thoughts are pre-empted and -totally preoccupied, suffers an annoyance not the less real because he -sees the absurdity of it; it is to find shut a gate which with better -luck might have been open. The unusual circumstances of his new -encounter with Sophy did not save Dunstanbury from this common form of -chagrin; the tragic element in her situation gave it a rather uncommon -flavor. He would fain have appeared as the knight-errant to rescue such -beauty in such distress; but the nature of the distress did not seem -favorable to the proper romantic sequel. - -He made his offer of service to her; she assigned him to the service of -Monseigneur! He laughed at his own annoyance--and determined to serve -Monseigneur as well as he could. At the same time, while conceding most -amply--nay, even feeling--Monseigneur's excuse, he could not admire his -policy in the choice of a bride. That was doubtless a sample of how -things were done in Kravonia! He lived to feel the excuse more -strongly--and to pronounce the judgment with greater hesitation. - -Sophy had given him her hand again as she accepted his offer in -Monseigneur's name.--He had not yet released it when she was called from -the street below in a woman's voice--a voice full of haste and alarm. - -"Marie Zerkovitch calls me! I must go at once," she said. "I expect -Monseigneur is awake." She hurried off with a nod of farewell. - -Dunstanbury stayed a little while on the wall, smoking a cigarette, and -then went down into the street. The door of the guard-house was shut; -all was very quiet as he passed along to the market-place where the inn -was situated. He went up to his room overlooking the street, and, taking -off his coat only, flung himself on the bed. He was minded thus to await -Basil Williamson's return with news of the King. But the excitement of -the day had wearied him; in ten minutes he was sound asleep. - -He was aroused by Basil Williamson's hand on his shoulder. The young -doctor, a slim-built, dark, wiry fellow, looked very weary and sad. - -"How has it gone?" asked Dunstanbury, sitting up. - -"It's been a terrible night. I'm glad you've had some sleep. He awoke -after an hour; the hemorrhage had set in again. I had to tell him it was -a thousand to one against him. He sent for her, and made me leave them -alone together. There was only one other room, and I waited there with a -little woman--a Madame Zerkovitch--who cried terribly. Then he sent for -Lukovitch, who seems to be the chief man in the place. Presently -Lukovitch went away, and I went back to the King. I found him terribly -exhausted; she was there, sitting by him and whispering to him now and -then; she seemed calm. Presently Lukovitch came back; the Zerkovitches -and the German man came too. They all came in--the King would not hear -my objections--and with them came a priest. And then and there the King -married her! She spoke to nobody except to me before the service began, -and then she only said: 'Monseigneur wishes it.' I waited till the -service was done, but I could bear no more. I went outside while they -shrived him. But I was called back hurriedly. Then the end came very -soon--in less than half an hour. He sent everybody away except her and -me, and when I had done all that was possible, I went as far off as I -could--into the corner of the room. I came back at a call from her just -before he died. The man was looking extraordinarily happy, Dunstanbury." - -"They were married?" - -"Oh yes. It's all right, I suppose--not that it seems to matter much -now, does it? Put on your coat and come to the window. You'll see a -sight you'll remember, I think." - -Together they went to the window. The sun had risen from behind the -mountains and flooded the city with light; the morning air was crisp and -fragrant. The market-place was thronged with people--men in line in -front, women, girls, and boys in a mass behind. They were all absolutely -quiet and silent. Opposite where they were was a raised platform of -wood, reached by steps from the ground; it was a rostrum for the use of -those who sold goods by auction in the market. A board on trestles had -been laid on this, and on the board was stretched the body of the King. -At his feet stood Lukovitch; behind were Max von Hollbrandt, Zerkovitch, -and Marie. At the King's head stood Sophy, and Peter Vassip knelt on the -ground beside her. She stood like a statue, white and still; but -Dunstanbury could see the Red Star glowing. - -Lukovitch seemed to have been speaking, although the sound of his voice -had not reached them through the closed window of the topmost room in -the inn. He spoke again now--not loudly, but in a very clear voice. - -"The King lies dead through treachery," he said. "In Slavna the German -woman rules, and her son, and the men who killed the King. Will you have -them to rule over you, men of Volseni?" - -A shout of "No!" rang out, followed again by absolute silence. Lukovitch -drew the curved sword that he wore and raised it in the air. All the -armed men followed his example; the rest, with the women and young -people, raised their right hands. It was their custom in calling Heaven -to witness. - -"God hears us!" said Lukovitch, and all the people repeated the words -after him. - -Dunstanbury whispered to Basil: "Do they mean to fight?" An eagerness -stirred in his voice. - -"Listen! He's speaking again." - -"Whom then will you have for your King, men of Volseni?" asked -Lukovitch. "There is one on whose finger the King has put the silver -ring of the Bailiffs of Volseni. With his own hand he set it there -before he died--he set it there when he made her his Queen, as you have -heard. Will you have the Bailiff of Volseni for your King?" - -A great shout of "Yes!" answered him. - -"You will have Sophia for your King?" - -"Sophia for our King!" they cried. - -Lukovitch raised his sword again; all raised swords or hands. The solemn -words "God hears us!" were spoken from every mouth. Lukovitch turned to -Sophy and handed his drawn sword to her. She took it. Then she knelt -down and kissed the King's lips. Rising to her feet again, she stood for -a moment silent, looking over the thronged market-square; yet she seemed -hardly to see; her eyes were vacant. At last she raised the sword to her -lips, kissed it, and then held it high in the air. - -"It was Monseigneur's wish. Let us avenge him! God hears me!" - -"God hears you!" came all the voices. - -The ceremony was finished. Six men took up the board on which the King -lay, carried it down from the rostrum, and along the street to the -guard-house. Sophy followed, and her friends walked after her. Still she -seemed as though in a dream; her voice had sounded absent, almost -unconscious. She was pale as death, save for the Red Star. - -Following her dead, she passed out of sight. Immediately the crowd began -to disperse, though most of the men with arms gathered round Lukovitch -and seemed to await his orders. - -Basil Williamson moved away from the window with a heavy sigh and a -gesture of dejection. - -"I wish we could get her safe out of it," he said. "Isn't it wonderful, -her being here?" - -"Yes--but I'd forgotten that." Dunstanbury was still by the window; he -had been thinking that his service now would not be to Monseigneur. Yet -no doubt Basil had mentioned the wisest form of service. Sophy's own few -words--the words for which she cited Heaven's witness--hinted at -another. - -But Basil had recalled his mind to the marvel. Moved as he had been by -his talk with Sophy, and even more by the scene which had just been -enacted before his eyes, his face lit up with a smile as he looked -across to Basil. - -"Yes, old fellow, wonderful! Sophy Grouch! Queen of Kravonia! It beats -Macbeth hollow!" - -"It's pretty nearly as dreary!" said Basil, with a discontented grunt. - -"I find it pretty nearly as exciting," Dunstanbury said. "And I hope for -a happier ending. Meanwhile"--he buckled the leather belt which held -his revolver round his waist--"I'm for some breakfast, and then I shall -go and ask that tall fellow who did all the talking if there's anything -I can do for King Sophia. By Jove! wouldn't Cousin Meg open her eyes?" - -"You'll end by getting yourself stuck up against the wall and shot," -Basil grumbled. - -"If I do, I'm quite sure of one thing, old fellow--and that is that your -wooden old mug will be next in the line, or thereabouts." - -"I say, Dunstanbury, I wish I could have saved him!" - -"So do I. Did you notice her face?" - -Williamson gave a scornful toss of his head. - -"Well, yes, I was an ass to ask that!" Dunstanbury admitted, candidly. -It would certainly not have been easy to avoid noticing Sophy's face. - -At six o'clock that morning Max von Hollbrandt took horse for Slavna. -His diplomatic character at once made it proper for him to rejoin his -Legation and enabled him to act as a messenger with safety to himself. -He carried the tidings of the death of the King and of the -proclamation--of Sophy. There was no concealment. Volseni's defiance to -Slavna was open and avowed. Volseni held that there was no true -Stefanovitch left, and cited the will of the last of the Royal House as -warrant for its choice. The gauntlet was thrown down with a royal air. - -It was well for Max to get back to his post. The diplomatists in Slavna, -and their chiefs at home, were soon to be busy with the affairs of -Kravonia. Mistitch had struck at the life of even more than his -King--that was to become evident before many days had passed. - - - - -XX - -THEY HAVE COLDS IN SLAVNA - - -It is permissible to turn with some relief--although of a kind more -congenial to the cynic than to an admirer of humanity--from the tragedy -of love in Volseni to the comedy of politics which began to develop -itself in Slavna from the hour of the proclamation of young Alexis. - -The first result of this auspicious event, following so closely on the -issue of Captain Mistitch's expedition, was to give all the diplomatists -bad colds. Some took to their beds, others went for a change of air; but -one and all had such colds as would certainly prevent them from -accepting royal invitations or being present at State functions. Young -Alexis had a cold, too, and was consequently unable to issue royal -invitations or take his part in State functions. Countess Ellenburg was -even more affected--she had lumbago; and even General Stenovics was -advised to keep quite quiet for a few days. - -Only Colonel Stafnitz's health seemed proof against the prevailing -epidemic. He was constantly to be seen about, very busy at the barracks, -very busy at Suleiman's Tower, very gay and cheerful on the terrace of -the Hôtel de Paris. But then he, of course, had been in no way -responsible for recent events. He was a soldier, and had only obeyed -orders; naturally his health was less affected. He was, in fact, in -very good spirits, and in very good temper except when he touched on -poor Captain Hercules's blundering, violent ways. "Not the man for a -delicate mission," he said, decisively, to Captain Markart. The Captain -forbore to remind him how it was that Mistitch had been sent on one. The -way in which the Colonel expressed his opinion made it clear that such a -reminder would not be welcome. - -The coterie which had engineered the revolution was set at sixes and -sevens by its success. The destruction of their common enemy was also -the removal of their common interest. Sophy at Volseni did not seem a -peril real enough or near enough to bind them together. Countess -Ellenburg wanted to be Regent; Stenovics was for a Council, with himself -in the chair. Stafnitz thought himself the obvious man to be Commandant -of Slavna; Stenovics would have agreed--only it was necessary to keep an -eye on Volseni! Now if he were to be Commandant, while the Colonel took -the field with a small but picked force! The Colonel screwed up his -mouth at that. "Make Praslok your headquarters, and you'll soon bring -the Sheepskins to their senses," Stenovics advised insidiously. Stafnitz -preferred headquarters in Suleiman's Tower! He was not sure that coming -back from Praslok with a small force, however picked, would be quite as -easy as going there. - -In the back of both men's minds there was a bit of news which had just -come to hand. The big guns had been delivered, and were on their way to -Slavna, coming down the Krath in barges. They were consigned to the -Commandant. Who was that important officer now to be? - -When thieves fall out, honest men come by their own. The venerable -saying involves one postulate--that there shall be honest men to do it. -In high places in Slavna this seemed to be a difficulty, and it is not -so certain that Kravonia's two great neighbors, to east and west, quite -filled the gap. These Powers were exchanging views now. They were -mightily shocked at the way Kravonia had been going on. Their Ministers -had worse colds than any of the other Ministers, and their Press had a -great deal to say about civilization and such like topics. Kravonia was -a rich country, and its geographical position was important. The history -of the world seems to show that the standard of civilization and -morality demanded of a country depends largely on its richness and the -importance of its geographical position. - -The neighbor on the west had plenty of mountains, but wanted some -fertile plains. The neighbor on the east had fertile plains adjacent to -the Kravonian frontier, and would like to hold the mountain line as a -protection to them. A far-seeing statesman would have discerned how -important correct behavior was to the interests of Kravonia! The great -neighbors began to move in the matter, but they moved slowly. They had -to see that their own keen sense of morality was not opposed to the keen -sense of morality of other great nations. The right to feel specially -outraged is a matter for diplomatic negotiations, often, no doubt, of -great delicacy. - -So in the mean time Slavna was left to its own devices for a little -longer--to amuse itself in its light-hearted, unremorseful, extremely -unconscientious way, and to frown and shake a distant fist at grim, -gray, sad little Volseni in the hills. With the stern and faithful band -who mourned the dead Prince neither Stenovics nor Stafnitz seemed for -the moment inclined to try conclusions, though each would have been very -glad to see the other undertake the enterprise. In a military regard, -moreover, they were right. The obvious thing, if Sophy still held out, -was to wait for the big guns. When once these were in position, the old -battlements of Volseni could stand scarcely longer than the walls of -Jericho. And the guns were at the head of navigation on the Krath now, -waiting for an escort to convoy them to Slavna. Max von Hollbrandt--too -insignificant a person to feel called upon to have a cold--moved about -Slavna, much amused with the situation, and highly gratified that the -fruit which the coterie had plucked looked like turning bitter in their -mouths. - -Within the Palace on the river-bank young Alexis was strutting his brief -hour, vastly pleased; but Countess Ellenburg was at her prayers again, -praying rather indiscriminately against everybody who might be -dangerous--against Sophy at Volseni; against the big neighbors, whose -designs began to be whispered; against Stenovics, who was fighting so -hard for himself that he gave little heed to her or to her dignity; -against Stafnitz, who might leave her the dignity, such as it was, but -certainly, if he established his own supremacy, would not leave her a -shred of power. Perhaps there were spectres also against whose accusing -shades she raised her petition--the man she had deluded, the man she had -helped to kill; but that theme seems too dark for the comedy of Slavna -in these days. The most practical step she took, so far as this world -goes, was to send a very solid sum of money to a bank in Dresden: it was -not the first remittance she had made from Slavna. - -Matters stood thus--young Alexis having been on the throne in Slavna, -and Sophy in Volseni, for one week--when Lepage ventured out from -Zerkovitch's sheltering roof. He had suffered from a chill by no means -purely diplomatic; but, apart from that, he had been in no hurry to show -himself; he feared to see Rastatz's rat-face peering for him. But all -was quiet. Sterkoff and Rastatz were busy with their Colonel in -Suleiman's Tower. In fact, nobody took any notice of Lepage; his secret, -once so vital, was now gossip of the market-place. He was secure--but he -was also out of a situation. - -He walked somewhat forlornly into St. Michael's Square, and as luck -would have it--Lepage thought it very bad luck--the first man he ran -against was Captain Markart. Uneasy in his conscience, Lepage tried to -evade the encounter, but the Captain was of another mind. His head was -sound again, and, on cool reflection, he was glad to have slept through -the events of what Stenovics's proclamation had styled "the auspicious -day." He seized little Lepage by the arm, greeted him with cordiality, -and carried him off to drink at the Golden Lion. Without imputing any -serious lack of sobriety to his companion, Lepage thought that this -refreshment was not the first of which the good-humored Captain had -partaken that forenoon; his manner was so very cordial, his talk so very -free. - -"Well, here we are!" he said. "We did our best, you and I, Lepage; our -consciences are clear. As loyal subjects, we have now to accept the -existing régime." - -"What is it?" asked Lepage. "I've been in-doors a week." - -"It's Alexis--still Alexis! Long live Alexis!" said Markart, with a -laugh. "You surely don't take Baroness Dobrava into account?" - -"I just wanted to know," said Lepage, drinking thoughtfully. -"And--er--Captain--behind Alexis? Guiding the youthful King? Countess -Ellenburg?" - -"No doubt, no doubt. Behind him his very pious mother, Lepage." - -"And behind her?" persisted Lepage. - -Markart laughed, but cast a glance round and shook his head. - -"Come, come, Captain, don't leave an old friend in the dark--just where -information would be useful!" - -"An old friend! Oh, when I remember my aching head! You think me very -forgiving, Monsieur Lepage." - -"If you knew the night I spent, you'd forgive me anything," said Lepage, -with a shudder of reminiscence. - -"Ah, well," said Markart, after another draught, "I'm a soldier--I shall -obey my orders." - -"Perfect, Captain! And who will give them to you, do you think?" - -"That's exactly what I'm waiting to see. Oh, I've turned prudent! No -more adventures for me!" - -"I'm quite of your mind; but it's so difficult to be prudent when one -doesn't know which is the strongest side." - -"You wouldn't go to Volseni?" laughed Markart. - -"Perhaps not; but there are difficulties nearer home. If you went out of -this door and turned to the left, you would come to the offices of the -Council of Ministers. If you turned to the right, and thence to the -right again, and on to the north wall, you would come, Captain, to -Suleiman's Tower. Now, as I understand, Colonel Stafnitz--" - -"Is at the Tower, and the General at the offices, eh?" - -"Precisely. Which turn do you mean to take?" - -Markart looked round again. "I shall sit here for a bit longer," he -said. He finished his liquor, thereby, perhaps, adding just the touch of -openness lacking to his advice, and, leaning forward, touched Lepage on -the arm. - -"Do you remember the Prince's guns--the guns for which he bartered -Captain Hercules?" - -"Ay, well!" said Lepage. - -"They're on the river, up at Kolskoï, now. I should keep my eye on them! -They're to be brought to Slavna. Who do you think'll bring them? Keep -your eye on that!" - -"They're both scoundrels," said Lepage, rising to go. - -Markart shrugged his shoulders. "The fruit lies on the ground for the -man who can pick it up! Why not? There's nobody who's got any right to -it now." - -He expressed exactly the view of the two great neighbors, though by no -means in the language which their official communications adopted. - -Stenovics knew their views very well. He had also received a pretty -plain intimation from Stafnitz that the Colonel considered the escorting -of the guns to Slavna as a purely military task, appertaining not to the -Ministry of State, but to the officer commanding the garrison in the -capital. Stafnitz was that officer, and he proposed himself to go to -Kolskoï. Suleiman's Tower, he added, would be left in the trustworthy -hands of Captain Sterkoff. Again Stenovics fully understood; indeed, the -Colonel was almost brutally candid. His letter was nothing less than -plain word that power lay with the sword, and that the sword was in his -own hand. Stenovics had got rid of King Sergius only to fall under the -rule of Dictator Stafnitz! Was that to be the end of it? - -Stenovics preferred any other issue. The ideal thing was his own rule in -the name of young Alexis, with such diplomatic honoring and humoring of -Countess Ellenburg as might prove necessary. That was plainly impossible -so long as Stafnitz was master of the army; it would become finally -hopeless if Sterkoff held Suleiman's Tower till Stafnitz brought the -guns to Slavna. What, then, was Stenovics's alternative? For he was not -yet brought to giving up the game as totally lost. His name stood high, -though his real power tottered on a most insecure foundation. He could -get good terms for his assistance: there was time to make friends with -the mammon of unrighteousness. - -Privately, as became invalids, without the knowledge of any one outside -their confidential _entourage_, the representatives of the two great -neighbors received General Stenovics. They are believed to have -convinced him that, in the event of any further disorders in Kravonia, -intervention could not be avoided; troops were on either frontier, ready -for such an emergency; a joint occupation would be forced on the Allies. -With a great deal of sorrow, no doubt, the General felt himself driven -to accept this conclusion. - -He at once requested Stafnitz to fetch the guns to Slavna; he left the -Colonel full discretion in the matter. His only desire was to insure the -tranquillity of the capital, and to show Volseni how hopeless it was to -maintain the fanciful and absurd claims of Baroness Dobrava. The -representatives, it must be supposed, approved this attitude, and wished -the General all success; at a later date his efforts to secure order, -and to avoid the inevitable but regrettable result of any new -disturbance, were handsomely acknowledged by both Powers. General -Stenovics had not Stafnitz's nerve and dash, but he was a man of -considerable resource. - -A man of good feeling, too, to judge from another step he took--whether -with the cognizance of the representatives or entirely of his own motion -has never become known. He waited till Colonel Stafnitz, who returned a -civil and almost effusive reply to his communication, had set off to -fetch the guns--which, as has been seen, had been unloaded from the -railway and lay at Kolskoï, three days' journey up the Krath; then he -entered into communication with Volseni. He sent Volseni a private and -friendly warning. What was the use of Volseni holding out when the big -guns were coming? It could mean only hopeless resistance, more disorder, -more blood-shed. Let Volseni and the lady whose claims it supported -consider that, be warned in time, and acknowledge King Alexis! - -This letter he addressed to Zerkovitch. There were insuperable -diplomatic difficulties in the way of addressing it to Sophy directly. -"Madam I may not call you, and Mistress I am loath to call you," said -Queen Elizabeth to the Archbishop's wife: it was just a case of that -sort of difficulty. He could not call her Queen of Kravonia, and she -would be offended if he called her Baroness Dobrava. So the letter went -to Zerkovitch, and it went by the hand of one of Zerkovitch's -friends--so anxious was the General to be as friendly and conciliatory -as circumstances permitted. - -Much to his surprise, considerably to his alarm, Lepage was sent for to -the General's private residence on the evening of the day on which -Colonel Stafnitz set out for Kolskoï to fetch the guns. - -Stenovics greeted him cordially, smoothed away his apprehension, -acquainted him with the nature of his mission and with the gist of the -letter which he was to carry. Stenovics seemed more placid to-night than -for some time back--possibly because he had got Stafnitz quietly out of -Slavna. - -"Beg Monsieur Zerkovitch to give the letter to Baroness Dobrava (he -called her that to Lepage) as soon as possible, and to urge her to -listen to it. Add that we shall be ready to treat her with every -consideration--any title in reason, and any provision in reason, too. -It's all in my letter, but repeat it on my behalf, Lepage." - -"I shouldn't think she'd take either title or money, General," said -Lepage, bluntly. - -"You think she's disinterested? No doubt, no doubt! She'll be the more -ready to see the uselessness of prolonging her present attitude." He -grew almost vehement, as he laid his hand on a large map which was -spread out on the table in front of him. "Look here, Lepage. This is -Monday. By Wednesday evening Colonel Stafnitz will be at Kolskoï--here!" -He put his finger by the spot. "On Thursday morning he'll start back. -The barges travel well, and--yes--I think he'll have his guns here by -Sunday; less than a week from now! Yes, on Thursday night he ought to -reach Evena, on Friday Rapska, on Saturday the lock at Miklevni. Yes, on -Saturday the lock at Miklevni! That would bring him here on Sunday. Yes, -the lock at Miklevni on Saturday, I think." He looked up at Lepage -almost imploringly. "If she hesitates, show her that. They're bound to -be here in less than a week!" - -Lepage cocked his head on one side and looked at the Minister -thoughtfully. It all sounded very convincing. Colonel Stafnitz would be -at the lock at Miklevni on Saturday, and on Sunday with the guns at -Slavna. And, of course, arduous though the transport would be, they -could be before Volseni in two or three days more. It was really no use -resisting! - -Stenovics passed a purse over to Lepage. "For your necessary expenses," -he said. Lepage took up the purse, which felt well filled, and pocketed -it. "The Baroness mayn't fully appreciate what I've been saying," added -Stenovics. "But Lukovitch knows every inch of the river--he'll make it -quite plain, if she asks him about it. And present her with my sincere -respects and sympathy--my sympathy with her as a private person, of -course. You mustn't commit me in any way, Lepage." - -"I think," said Lepage, "that you're capable of looking after that -department yourself, General. But aren't you making the Colonel go a -little too fast?" - -"No, no; the barges will do about that." - -"But he has a large force to move, I suppose?" - -"Oh, dear, no! A large force? No, no! Only a company--just about a -hundred strong, Lepage." He rose. "Just about a hundred, I think." - -"Ah, then he might keep time!" Lepage agreed, still very thoughtfully. - -"You'll start at once?" the General asked. - -"Within an hour." - -"That's right. We must run no unnecessary risks; delay might mean new -troubles." - -He held out his hand and shook Lepage's warmly. "You must believe that I -respect and share your grief at the King's death." - -"Which King, General?" - -"Oh! oh! King Alexis, of course! We must listen to the voice of the -nation. Our new King lives and reigns. The voice of the nation, Lepage!" - -"Ah!" said Lepage, dryly. "I'd been suspecting some ventriloquists!" - -General Stenovics honored the sally with a broad smile. He thought the -representatives with colds would be amused if he repeated it. The pat on -the shoulder which he gave Lepage was a congratulation. "The animal is -so very inarticulate of itself," he said. - - - - -XXI - -ON SATURDAY AT MIKLEVNI! - - -Though not remote in distance, yet Volseni was apart and isolated from -all that was happening. Not only was nothing known of the two great -neighbors--nothing reached men in Volseni of the state of affairs in -Slavna itself. They did not know that the thieves were quarrelling about -the plunder, nor that the diplomatists had taken cold; they had not -bethought them of how the art of the ventriloquists would be at work. -They knew only that young Alexis reigned in Slavna by reason of their -King's murder and against the will of him who was dead; only that they -had chosen Sophia for their Queen because she had been the dead King's -wife and his chosen successor. - -All the men who could be spared from labor came into the city; they -collected what few horses they could; they filled their little fortress -with provisions. They could not go to Slavna, but they awaited with -confidence the day when Slavna should dare to move against them into the -hills. Slavna had never been able to beat them in their own hills yet; -the bolder spirits even implored Lukovitch to lead them down in a raid -on the plains. - -Lukovitch would sanction no more than a scouting party, to see whether -any movement were in progress from the other side. Peter Vassip rode -down with his men to within a few miles of Slavna. For result of the -expedition he brought back the news of the guns: the great guns, rumor -said, had reached Kravonia and were to be in Slavna in a week. - -The rank and file hardly understood what that meant; anger that their -destined and darling guns should fall into hostile hands was the feeling -uppermost. But the tidings struck their leaders home to the heart. -Lukovitch knew what it meant. Dunstanbury, who had served three years in -the army at home, knew very well. Covered by such a force as Stafnitz -could bring up, the guns could pound Volseni to pieces--and Volseni -could strike back not a single blow. - -"And it's all through her that the guns are here at all!" said -Zerkovitch, with a sigh for the irony of it. - -Dunstanbury laid his hand on Lukovitch's shoulder. "It's no use," he -said. "We must tell her so, and we must make the men understand. She -can't let them have their homes battered to pieces--the town with the -women and children in it--and all for nothing!" - -"We can't desert her," Lukovitch protested. - -"No; we must get her safely away, and then submit." - -Since Dunstanbury had offered his services to Sophy, he had assumed a -leading part. His military training and his knowledge of the world gave -him an influence over the rude, simple men. Lukovitch looked to him for -guidance; he had much to say in the primitive preparations for defence. -But now he declared defence to be impossible. - -"Who'll tell her so?" asked Basil Williamson. - -"We must get her across the frontier," said Dunstanbury. "There--by St. -Peter's Pass--the way we came, Basil. It's an easy journey, and I don't -suppose they'll try to intercept us. You can send twenty or thirty -well-mounted men with us, can't you, Lukovitch? A small party well -mounted is what we shall want." - -Lukovitch waved his hands sadly. "With the guns against us it would be a -mere massacre! If it must be, let it be as you say, my lord." His heart -was very heavy; after generations of defiance, Volseni must bow to -Slavna, and his dead Lord's will go for nothing! All this was the doing -of the great guns. - -Dunstanbury's argument was sound, but he argued from his heart as well -as his head. He was convinced that the best service he could render to -Sophy was to get her safely out of the country; his heart urged that her -safety was the one and only thing to consider. As she went to and fro -among them now, pale and silent, yet always accessible, always ready to -listen, to consider, and to answer, she moved him with an infinite pity -and a growing attraction. Her life was as though dead or frozen; it -seemed to him as though all Kravonia must be to her the tomb of him -whose grave in the little hill-side church of Volseni she visited so -often. An ardent and overpowering desire rose in him to rescue her, to -drag her forth from these dim cold shades into the sunlight of life -again. Then the spell of this frozen grief might be broken; then should -her drooping glories revive and bloom again. Kravonia and who ruled -there--ay, in his heart, even the fate of the gallant little city which -harbored them, and whose interest he pleaded--were nothing to him beside -Sophy. On her his thoughts were centred. - -Sophy's own mind in these days can be gathered only from what others -saw. She made no record of it. Fallen in an hour from heights of love -and hope and exaltation, she lay stunned in the abyss. In intellect calm -and collected, she seems to have been as one numbed in feeling, too -maimed for pain, suffering as though from a mortification of the heart. -The simple men and women of Volseni looked on her with awe, and -chattered fearfully of the Red Star: how that its wearer had been -predestined to high enterprise, but foredoomed to mighty reverses of -fortune. Amidst all their pity for her, they spoke of the Evil Eye; some -whispered that she had come to bring ruin on Volseni: had not the man -who loved her lost both Crown and life? - -And it was she through whom the guns had come! The meaning of the guns -had spread now to every hearth; what had once been hailed as an -achievement second only to her exploit in the Street of the Fountain -served now to point more finely the sharpening fears of superstition. -The men held by her still, but their wives were grumbling at them in -their homes. Was she not, after all, a stranger? Must Volseni lie in the -dust for her sake, for the sake of her who wore that ominous, -inexplicable Star? - -Dunstanbury knew all this; Lukovitch hardly sought to deny it, though he -was full of scorn for it; and Marie Zerkovitch had by heart the tales of -many wise old beldams who had prophesied this and that from the first -moment that they saw the Red Star. Surely and not slowly the enthusiasm -which had crowned Sophy was turning into a fear which made the people -shrink from her even while they pitied, even while they did not cease to -love. The hand of heaven was against her and against those who were -near her, said the women. The men still feigned not to hear; had they -not taken Heaven to witness that they would serve her and avenge the -King? Alas, their simple vow was too primitive for days like these--too -primitive for the days of the great guns which lay on the bosom of the -Krath! - -Dunstanbury had an interview with Sophy early on the Tuesday morning, -the day after Stafnitz had started for Kolskoï. He put his case with the -bluntness and honesty native to him. In his devotion to her safety he -did not spare her the truth. She listened with the smile devoid of -happiness which her face now wore so often. - -"I know it all," she said. "They begin to look differently at me as I -walk through the street--when I go to the church. If I stay here long -enough, they'll all call me a witch! But didn't they swear? And -I--haven't I sworn? Are we to do nothing for Monseigneur's memory?" - -"What can we do against the guns? The men can die, and the walls be -tumbled down! And there are the women and children!" - -"Yes, I suppose we can do nothing. But it goes to my heart that they -should have Monseigneur's guns." - -"Your guns!" Dunstanbury reminded her with a smile of whimsical -sympathy. - -"That's what they say in the city, too?" she asked. - -"The old hags, who are clever at the weather and other mysteries. And, -of course, Madame Zerkovitch!" - -Sophy's smile broadened a little. "Oh, of course, poor little Marie -Zerkovitch!" she exclaimed. "She's been sure I'm a witch ever since -she's known me." - -"I want you to come over the frontier with me--and Basil Williamson. -I've some influence, and I can insure your getting through all right." - -"And then?" - -"Whatever you like. I shall be utterly at your orders." - -She leaned her head against the high chair in which she sat, a chair of -old oak, black as her hair; she fixed her profound eyes on his. - -"I wish I could stay here--in the little church--with Monseigneur," she -said. - -"By Heavens, no!" he cried, startled into sudden and untimely vehemence. - -"All my life is there," she went on, paying no heed to his outburst. - -"Give life another chance. You're very young." - -"You can't count life by years, any more than hours by minutes. You -reckon the journey not by the clock, but by the stages you have passed. -Once before I loved a man--and he was killed in battle. But that was -different. I was very hurt, but I wasn't maimed. I'm maimed now by the -death of Monseigneur." - -"You can't bring ruin on these folk, and you can't give yourself up to -Stenovics." He could not trust himself to speak more of her feelings nor -of the future; he came back to the present needs of the case. - -"It's true--and yet we swore!" She leaned forward to him. "And -you--aren't you afraid of the Red Star?" - -"We Essex men aren't afraid, we haven't enough imagination," he -answered, smiling again. - -She threw herself back, crying low: "Ah, if we could strike one -blow--just one--for the oath we swore and for Monseigneur! Then perhaps -I should be content." - -"To go with me?" - -"Perhaps--if, in striking it, what I should think best didn't come to -me." - -"You must run no danger, anyhow," he cried, hastily and eagerly. - -"My friend," she said, gently, "for such as I am to-day there's no such -thing as danger. Don't think I value my position here or the title -they've given me, poor men! I have loved titles"--for a moment she -smiled--"and I should have loved this one, if Monseigneur had lived. I -should have been proud as a child of it. If I could have borne it by his -side for even a few weeks, a few days! But now it's barren and -bitter--bitter and barren to me." - -He followed the thoughts at which her words hinted; they seemed to him -infinitely piteous. - -"Now, as things have fallen out, what am I in this country? A waif and -stray! I belong to nobody, and nobody to me." - -"Then come away!" he burst out again. - -Her deep eyes were set on his face once more. "Yes, that's the -conclusion," she said, very mournfully. "We Essex people are sensible, -aren't we? And we have no imagination. Did you laugh when you saw me -proclaimed and heard us swear?" - -"Good Heavens, no!" - -"Then think how my oath and my love call me to strike one blow for -Monseigneur!" She hid her eyes behind her hand for a moment. "Aren't -there fifty--thirty--twenty, who would count their lives well risked? -For what are men's lives given them?" - -"There's one at least, if you will have it so," Dunstanbury answered. - -There was a knock on the door, and without waiting for a bidding -Zerkovitch came quickly in; Lukovitch was behind, and with him Lepage. -Ten minutes before, the valet had ridden up to the city gates, waving -his handkerchief above his head. - -Sophy gave a cry of pleasure at seeing him. "A brave man, who loved his -King and served Monseigneur!" she said, as she darted forward and -clasped his hand. - -Zerkovitch was as excited and hurried as ever. He thrust a letter into -her hand. "From Stenovics, madame, for you to read," he said. - -She took it, saying to Lepage with a touch of reproach: "Are you General -Stenovics's messenger now, Monsieur Lepage?" - -"Read it, madame," said he. - -She obeyed, and then signed to Lukovitch to take it, and to Dunstanbury -to read it also. "It's just what you've been saying," she told him with -a faint smile, as she sank back in the high oaken seat. - -"I am to add, madame," said Lepage, "that you will be treated with every -consideration--any title in reason, any provision in reason, too." - -"So the General's letter says." - -"But I was told to repeat it," persisted the little man. He looked round -on them. Lukovitch and Dunstanbury had finished reading the letter and -were listening, too. "If you still hesitated, I was to impress upon you -that the guns would certainly be in Slavna in less than a week--almost -certainly on Sunday. You know the course of the river well, madame?" - -"Not very well above Slavna, no." - -"In that case, which General Stenovics didn't omit to consider, I was to -remind you that Captain Lukovitch probably knew every inch of it." - -"I know it intimately," said Lukovitch. "I spent two years on the -timber-barges of the Krath." - -"Then you, sir, will understand that the guns will certainly reach -Slavna not later than Sunday." He paused for a moment, seeming to -collect his memory. "By Wednesday evening Colonel Stafnitz will be at -Kolskoï. On Thursday morning he'll start back. On that evening he ought -to reach Evena, on Friday Rapska." Lukovitch nodded at each name. Lepage -went on methodically. "On Saturday the lock at Miklevni. Yes, on -Saturday the lock at Miklevni!" He paused again and looked straight at -Lukovitch. - -"Exactly--the lock at Miklevni," said that officer, with another nod. - -"Yes, the lock at Miklevni on Saturday. You see, it's not as if the -Colonel had a large force to move. That might take longer. He'll be able -to move his company as quick as the barges travel." - -"The stream's very strong, they travel pretty well," said Lukovitch. - -"But a hundred men--it's nothing to move, Captain Lukovitch." He looked -round on them again, and then turned back to Sophy. "That's all my -message, madame," he said. - -There was a silence. - -"So it's evident the guns will be in Slavna by Sunday," Lepage -concluded. - -"If they reach Miklevni on Saturday--any time on Saturday--they will," -said Lukovitch. "And up here very soon after!" - -"The General intimated that also, Captain Lukovitch." - -"The General gives us very careful information," observed Dunstanbury, -looking rather puzzled. He was not so well versed in Stenovics's methods -as the rest. Lukovitch smiled broadly, and even Zerkovitch gave a little -laugh. - -"How are things in Slavna, Monsieur Lepage?" the last named asked. - -Lepage smiled a little, too. "General Stenovics is in full control of -the city--during Colonel Stafnitz's absence, sir," he answered. - -"They've quarrelled?" cried Lukovitch. - -"Oh no, sir. Possibly General Stenovics is afraid they might." He spoke -again to Sophy. "Madame, do you still blame me for being the General's -messenger?" - -"No, Monsieur Lepage; but there's much to consider in the message. -Captain Lukovitch, if Monseigneur had read this message, what would he -have thought the General meant?" - -Lukovitch's face was full of excitement as he answered her: - -"The Prince wouldn't have cared what General Stenovics meant. He would -have said that the guns would be three days on the river before they -came to Slavna, that the barges would take the best part of an hour to -get through Miklevni lock, that there was good cover within a quarter of -a mile of the lock--" - -Sophy leaned forward eagerly. "Yes, yes?" she whispered. - -"And that an escort of a hundred men was--well, might be--not enough!" - -"And that riding from Volseni--?" - -"One might easily be at Miklevni before Colonel Stafnitz and the guns -could arrive there!" - -Dunstanbury gave a start, Zerkovitch a chuckle, Lepage a quiet smile. -Sophy rose to her feet; the Star glowed, there was even color in her -cheeks besides. - -"If there are fifty, or thirty, or twenty," she said, her eyes set on -Dunstanbury, "who would count their lives well risked, we may yet -strike one blow for Monseigneur and for the guns he loved." - -Dunstanbury looked round. "There are three here," he said. - -"Four!" called Basil Williamson from the doorway, where he had stood -unobserved. - -"Five!" cried Sophy, and, for the first time since Monseigneur died, she -laughed. - -"Five times five, and more, if we can get good horses enough!" said -Captain Lukovitch. - -"I should like to join you, but I must go back and tell General -Stenovics that you will consider his message, madame," smiled Lepage. - - - - -XXII - -JEALOUS OF DEATH - - -In the end they started thirty strong, including Sophy herself. There -were the three Englishmen, Dunstanbury, Basil Williamson, and Henry -Brown, Dunstanbury's servant, an old soldier, a good rider and shot. The -rest were sturdy young men of Volseni, once destined for the ranks of -the Prince of Slavna's artillery; Lukovitch and Peter Vassip led them. -Not a married man was among them, for, to his intense indignation, -Zerkovitch was left behind in command of the city. Sophy would have this -so, and nothing would move her; she would not risk causing Marie -Zerkovitch to weep more and to harbor fresh fears of her. So they rode, -"without encumbrances," as Dunstanbury said, laughing--his spirits rose -inexpressibly as the moment of action came. - -Their horses were all that could be mustered in Volseni of a mettle -equal to the dash. The little band paraded in the market-place on Friday -afternoon; there they were joined by Sophy, who had been to pay a last -visit to Monseigneur's grave; she came among them sad, yet seeming more -serene. Her spirit was the happier for striking a blow in Monseigneur's -name. The rest of them were in high feather; the prospect of the -expedition went far to blot out the tragedy of the past and to veil the -threatening face of the future. As dusk fell, they rode out of the city -gate. - -Miklevni lies twenty miles up the course of the river from Slavna; but -the river flows there nearly from north to south, turning to the east -only four or five miles above the capital. You ride, then, from Volseni -to Miklevni almost in a straight line, leaving Slavna away on the left. -It is a distance of no more than thirty-five miles or thereabouts, but -the first ten consist of a precipitous and rugged descent by a -bridle-path from the hills to the valley of the Krath. No pace beyond a -walk was possible at any point here, and for the greater part of the way -it was necessary to lead the horses. When once the plain was reached, -there was good going, sometimes over country roads, sometimes over -grass, to Miklevni. - -It was plain that the expedition could easily be intercepted by a force -issuing from Slavna and placing itself astride the route; but then they -did not expect a force to issue from Slavna. That would be done only by -the orders of General Stenovics, and Lepage had gone back to Slavna to -tell the General that his message was being considered--very carefully -considered--in Volseni. General Stenovics, if they understood him -rightly, would not move till he heard more. For the rest, risks must be -run. If all went well, they hoped to reach Miklevni before dawn on -Saturday. There they were to lie in wait for Stafnitz--and for the big -guns which were coming down the Krath from Kolskoï to Slavna. - -Lukovitch was the guide, and had no lack of counsel from lads who knew -the hills as well as their sweethearts' faces. He rode first, and, while -they were on the bridle-path, they followed in single file, walking -their horses or leading them. Sophy and Dunstanbury rode behind, with -Basil Williamson and Henry Brown just in front of them. In advance, some -hundreds of yards, Peter Vassip acted as scout, coming back from time to -time to advise Lukovitch that the way was clear. The night fell fine and -fresh, but it was very dark. That did not matter; the men of Volseni -were like cats for seeing in the dark. - -The first ten miles passed slowly and tediously, but without mistake or -mishap. They halted on the edge of the plain an hour before midnight and -took rest and food--each man carried provisions for two days. Behind -them now rose the steep hills whence they had come, before them -stretched the wide plain; away on their left was Slavna, straight ahead -Miklevni, the goal of their pilgrimage. Lukovitch moved about, seeing -that every man gave heed to his horse and had his equipment and his -weapons in good order. Then came the word to remount, and between twelve -and one, with a cheer hastily suppressed, the troop set forth at a good -trot over the level ground. Now Williamson and Henry Brown fell to the -rear with three or four Volsenians, lest by any chance or accident Sophy -should lose or be cut off from the main body. Lukovitch and Peter Vassip -rode together at the head. - -To Dunstanbury that ride by night, through the spreading plain, was -wonderful--a thing sufficient in itself, without regard to its object or -its issue. He had seen some service before--and there was the joy of -that. He had known the comradeship of a bold enterprise--there was the -exaltation of that. He had taken great risks before--there was the -excitement of that. The night had ere now called him to the saddle--and -it called now with all its fascination. His blood tingled and burned -with all these things. But there was more. Beside him all the way was -the figure of Sophy dim in the darkness, and the dim silhouette of her -face--dim, yet, as it seemed, hardly blurred; its pallor stood out even -in the night. She engrossed his thoughts and spurred his speculations. - -What thoughts dwelt in her? Did she ride to death, and was it a death -she herself courted? If so, he was sworn in his soul to thwart her, even -to his own death. She was not food for death, his soul cried, -passionately protesting against that loss, that impoverishment of the -world. Why had they let her come? She was not a woman of whom that could -be asked; therefore it was that his mind so hung on her, with an -attraction, a fascination, an overbearing curiosity. The men of Volseni -seemed to think it natural that she should come. They knew her, then, -better than he did! - -Save for the exchange of a few words now and then about the road, they -had not talked; he had respected her silence. But she spoke now, and to -his great pleasure less sadly than he had expected. Her tone was light, -and witnessed to a whimsical enjoyment which not even memory could -altogether quench. - -"This is my first war, Lord Dunstanbury," she said. "The first time I've -taken the field in person at the head of my men!" - -"Yes, your Majesty's first campaign. May it be glorious!" he answered, -suiting his tone to hers. - -"My first and my last, I suppose. Well, I could hardly have looked to -have even one--in those old days you know of--could I?" - -"Frankly, I never expected to hold my commission as an officer from -you," he laughed. "As it is, I'm breaking all the laws in the world, I -suppose. Perhaps they'll never hear of it in England, though." - -"Where there are no laws left, you can break none," she said. "There are -none left in Kravonia now. There's but one crime--to be weak; and but -one penalty--death." - -"Neither the crime nor the penalty for us to-night!" he cried, gayly. -"Queen Sophia's star shines to-night!" - -"Can you see it?" she asked, touching her cheek a moment. - -"No, I can't," he laughed. "I forgot--I spoke metaphorically." - -"When people speak of my star, I always think of this. So my star shines -to-night? Yes, I think so--shines brightly before it sets! I wonder if -Kravonia's star, too, will have a setting soon--a stormy setting!" - -"Well, we're not helping to make it more tranquil," said Dunstanbury. - -He saw her turn her head suddenly and sharply towards him; she spoke -quickly and low. - -"I'm seeking a man's life in this expedition," she said. "It's his or -mine before we part." - -"I don't blame you for that." - -"Oh no!" The reply sounded almost contemptuous; at least it showed -plainly that her conscience was not troubled. "And he won't blame me -either. When he sees me, he'll know what it means." - -"And, in fact, I intend to help. So do we all, I think." - -"It was our oath in Volseni," she answered. "They think Monseigneur will -sleep the better for it. But I know well that nothing troubles -Monseigneur's sleep. And I'm so selfish that I wish he could be -troubled--yes, troubled about me; that he could be riding in the spirit -with us to-night, hoping for our victory; yet very anxious, very anxious -about me; that I could still bring him joy and sorrow, grief and -delight. I can't desire that Monseigneur should sleep so well. They're -kinder to him--his own folk of Volseni. They aren't jealous of his -sleep--not jealous of the peace of death. But I'm very jealous of it. -I'm to him now just as all the rest are; I, too, am nothing to -Monseigneur now." - -"Who knows? Who can know?" said Dunstanbury, softly. - -His attempted consolation, his invoking of the old persistent hope, the -saving doubt, did not reach her heart. In her great love of life, the -best she could ask of the tomb was a little memory there. So she had -told Monseigneur; such was the thought in her heart to-night. She was -jealous and forlorn because of the silent darkness which had wrapt her -lover from her sight and so enveloped him. He could not even ride with -her in the spirit on the night when she went forth to avenge the death -she mourned! - -The night broke towards dawn, the horizon grew gray. Lukovitch drew in -his rein, and the party fell to a gentle trot. Their journey was almost -done. Presently they halted for a few minutes, while Lukovitch and Peter -Vassip held a consultation. Then they jogged on again in the same order, -save that now Sophy and Dunstanbury rode with Lukovitch at the head of -the party. In another half-hour, the heavens lightening yet more, they -could discern the double row of low trees which marked, at irregular -intervals, the course of the river across the plain. At the same moment -a row of squat buildings rose in murky white between them and the -river-bank. Lukovitch pointed to it with his hand. - -"There we are, madame," he said. "That's the farm-house at the right -end, and the barn at the left--within a hundred yards of the lock. -There's our shelter till the Colonel comes." - -"What of the farmer?" asked Dunstanbury. - -"We shall catch him in his bed--him and his wife," said Lukovitch. -"There's only the pair of them. They keep the lock, and have a few acres -of pastureland to eke out their living. They'll give us no trouble. If -they do, we can lock them in and turn the key. Then we can lie quiet in -the barn; with a bit of close packing, it'll take us all. Peter Vassip -and I will be lock-keepers if anything comes by; we know the work--eh, -Peter?" - -"Ay, Captain; and the man--Peter's his name too, by-the-way--must give -us something to hide our sheepskins." - -Sophy turned to Dunstanbury. She was smiling now. - -"It sounds very simple, doesn't it?" she asked. - -"Then we watch our chance for a dash--when the Colonel's off his guard," -Lukovitch went on. - -"But if he won't oblige us in that way?" asked Dunstanbury, with a -laugh. - -"Then he shall have the reward of his virtue in a better fight for the -guns," said Lukovitch. "Now, lads, ready! Listen! I'm going forward with -Peter Vassip here and four more. We'll secure the man and his wife; -there might be a servant-girl on the premises too, perhaps. When you -hear my whistle, the rest of you will follow. You'll take command, my -lord?" He turned to Sophy. "Madame, will you come with me or stay here?" - -"I'll follow with Lord Dunstanbury," she said. "We ought all to be in -the barn before it's light?" - -"Surely! A barge might come up or down the river, you see, and it -wouldn't do for the men on board to see anybody but Vassip and me, who -are to be the lock-keepers." - -He and Peter Vassip rode off with their party of four, and the rest -waited in a field a couple of hundred yards from the barn--a dip in the -ground afforded fair cover. Some of the men began to dismount, but -Dunstanbury stopped them. "It's just that one never knows," he said; -"and it's better to be on your horse than off it in case any trouble -does come, you know." - -"There oughtn't to be much trouble with the lock-keeper and his wife--or -even with the servant-girl," said Basil Williamson. - -"Girls can make a difference sometimes," Sophy said, with a smile. "I -did once, in the Street of the Fountain over in Slavna there!" - -Dunstanbury's precaution was amply justified, for, to their -astonishment, the next instant a shot rang through the air, and, the -moment after, a loud cry. A riderless horse galloped wildly past them; -the sheepskin rug across the saddle marked it as belonging to a -Volsenian. - -"By Heaven, have they got there before us?" whispered Dunstanbury. - -"I hope so; we sha'n't have to wait," said Sophy. - -But they did wait there a moment. Then came a confused noise from the -long, low barn. Then a clatter of hoofs, and Lukovitch was with them -again; but his comrades were four men now, not five. - -"Hush! Silence! Keep cover!" he panted breathlessly. "Stafnitz is here -already; at least, there are men in the barn, and horses tethered -outside, and the barges are on the river, just above the lock. The -sentry saw us. He challenged and fired, and one of us dropped. It must -be Stafnitz!" - -Stafnitz it was. General Stenovics had failed to allow for the respect -which his colleague entertained for his abilities. If Stenovics expected -him back at Slavna with his guns on the Sunday, Stafnitz was quite clear -that he had better arrive on Saturday. To this end he had strained every -nerve. The stream was with him, flowing strong, but the wind was -contrary; his barges had not made very good progress. He had pressed the -horses of his company into service on the towing-path. Stenovics had not -thought of that. His rest at Rapska had been only long enough to give -his men and beasts an hour's rest and food and drink. To his pride and -exultation, he had reached the lock at Miklevni at nightfall on Friday, -almost exactly at the hour when Sophy's expedition set out on its ride -to intercept him. Men and horses might be weary now; Stafnitz could -afford to be indifferent to that. He could give them a good rest, and -yet, starting at seven the next morning, be in Slavna with them and the -guns in the course of the afternoon. There might be nothing wrong, of -course--but it was no harm to forestall any close and clever calculation -of the General's. - -"The sentry?" whispered Dunstanbury. - -"I had to cut him down. Shall we be at them, my lord?" - -"No, not yet. They're in the barn, aren't they?" - -"Yes. Don't you hear them? Listen! That's the door opened. Shall we -charge?" - -"No, no, not yet. They'd retreat inside, and it would be the devil then. -They'd have the pull of us. Wait for them to come out. They must send to -look for the sentry. Tell the men to lean right down in their -saddles--close down--close! Then the ground covers us. And now--silence -till I give the word!" - -Silence fell again for a few moments. They were waiting for a movement -from Stafnitz's men in the barn. Only Dunstanbury, bareheaded, risked a -look over the hillock which protected them from view. - -A single man had come out of the barn, and was looking about him for the -sentry who had fired. He seemed to suspect no other presence. Stafnitz -must have been caught in a sound nap this time. - -The searcher found his man and dropped on his knees by him for a moment. -Then he rose and ran hurriedly towards the barn, crying: "Colonel! -Colonel!" - -"Now!" whispered impetuous Lukovitch. - -But Dunstanbury pressed him down again, saying: "Not yet. Not yet." - -Sophy laid her hand on his arm. "Half of us to the barges," she said. - -In their eagerness for the fight, Lukovitch and Dunstanbury had -forgotten the main object of it. But the guns were what Monseigneur -would have thought of first--what Stafnitz must first think of too--the -centre of contest and the guerdon of victory. - - - - -XXIII - -A WOMAN AND A GHOST - - -For the history of this night from the enemy's side, thanks are due to -the memory, and to the unabashed courtesy, of Lieutenant Rastatz, who -came alive, if not with a whole skin, out of the encounter, and lived to -reach middle age under a new _régime_ so unappreciative of his services -that it cashiered him for getting drunk within a year from this date. He -ended his days as a billiard-marker at the Golden Lion--a fact agreeable -to poetic justice, but not otherwise material. While occupying that -capacity, he was always ready to open his mouth to talk, provided he -were afforded also a better reason for opening it. - -Stafnitz and his men felt that their hard work was done; they were -within touch of Slavna, and they had no reason, as they supposed, to -fear any attack. The Colonel had indulged them in something approaching -to a carouse. Songs had been sung, and speeches made; congratulations -were freely offered to the Colonel; allusions were thrown out, not too -carefully veiled, to the predicament in which Stenovics found himself. -Hard work, a good supper, and plentiful wine had their effect. Save the -sentries, all were asleep at ten o'clock, and game to sleep till the -reveille sounded at six. - -Their presence was a surprise to their assailants, who had, perhaps, -approached in too rash a confidence that they were first on the ground; -but the greater surprise befell those who had now to defend the barges -and the guns. When the man who had found the dead sentry ran back and -told his tale, all of them, from Stafnitz downward, conceived that the -attack must come from Stenovics; none thought of Sophy and her -Volsenians. There they were, packed in the barn, separated from their -horses, and with their carbines laid aside. The carbines were easily -caught up; the horses not so easily reached, supposing an active, -skilful enemy at hand outside. - -For themselves, their position was good to stand a siege. But Stafnitz -could not afford that. His mind flew where Sophy's had. Throughout, and -on both sides, the guns were the factor which dominated the tactics of -the fight. It was no use for Stafnitz to stay snug in the barn while the -enemy overpowered the bargees (supposing they tried to fight), disposed -of the sentry stationed on each deck, and captured the guns. Let the -assailant carry them off, and the Colonel's game was up! Whoever the foe -was, the fight was for the guns--and for one other thing, no doubt--for -the Colonel's life. - -"We felt in the deuce of a mess," Rastatz related, "for we didn't know -how many they were, and we couldn't see one of them. The Colonel walked -out of the barn, cool as a cucumber, and looked and listened. He called -to me to go with him, and so I did, keeping as much behind his back as -possible. Nothing was to be seen, nothing to be heard. He pointed to the -rising ground opposite. 'That must hide them,' he said. Back he went and -called the first half-company. 'You'll follow me in single file out of -the barn and round to the back of it; let there be a foot between each -of you--room enough to miss. When once you get in rear of the barn, make -for the barges. Never mind the horses. The second half-company will -cover the horses with their fire. Rastatz, see my detachment round, and -then follow. We'll leave the sergeant-major in command here. Now, quick, -follow me!' - -"Out he went, and the men began to follow in their order. I had to stand -in the doorway and regulate the distance between man and man. I hadn't -been there two seconds before a dozen heads came over the hill, and a -dozen rifles cracked. Luckily the Colonel was just round the corner. -Down went the heads again, but they'd bagged two of our fellows. I -shouted to more to come out, and at the same time ordered the -sergeant-major to send a file forward to answer the fire. Up came the -heads again, and they bagged three more. Our fellows blazed away in -reply, but they'd dropped too quickly--I don't think we got one. - -"Well, we didn't mind so much about keeping our exact distances after -that--and I wouldn't swear that the whole fifty of us faced the fire; it -was devilish disconcerting, you know; but in a few minutes thirty or -five-and-thirty of us got round the side of the barn somehow, and for -the moment out of harm's way. We heard the fire going on still in front, -but only in a desultory way. They weren't trying to rush us--and I don't -think we had any idea of rushing them. For all we knew, they might be -two hundred--or they might be a dozen. At any rate, with the advantage -of position, they were enough to bottle our men up in the barn, for the -moment at all events." - -This account makes what had happened pretty plain. Half of Sophy's -force had been left to hold the enemy, or as many of them as possible, -in the barn. They had dismounted, and, well covered by the hill, could -make good practice without much danger to themselves. Lukovitch was in -command of this section of the little troop. Sophy, Dunstanbury, and -Peter Vassip, also on foot (the horses' hoofs would have betrayed them), -were stealing round, intent on getting between the barges and any men -whom Stafnitz tried to place in position for their defence. After -leaving men for the containing party, and three to look after the -horses, this detachment was no more than a dozen strong. But they had -started before Stafnitz's men had got out of the barn, and, despite the -smaller distance the latter had to traverse, could make a good race of -it for the barges. They had all kept together, too, while the enemy -straggled round to the rear of the barn in single file. And they had one -great, perhaps decisive, advantage, of whose existence Peter Vassip, -their guide, was well aware. - -Forty yards beyond the farm a small ditch ran down to the Krath; on the -side near the farm it had a high, overhanging bank, the other side being -nearly level with the adjoining meadow. Thus it formed a natural trench -and led straight down to where the first of the barges lay. It would -have been open to an enfilade from the river, but Stafnitz had only one -sentry on each barge, and these men were occupied in staring at their -advancing companions and calling out to know what was the matter. As for -the bargees, they had wisely declared neutrality, deeming the matter no -business of theirs; shots were not within the terms of a contract for -transport. Stafnitz, not dreaming of an attack, had not reconnoitred -his ground. But Lukovitch knew every inch of it (had not General -Stenovics remembered that?), and so did Peter Vassip. The surprise of -Praslok was to be avenged. - -Rastatz takes up the tale again; his narrative has one or two touches -vivid with a local color. - -"When I got round to the rear of the barn, I found our fellows scattered -about on their bellies. The Colonel was in front on his belly, with his -head just raised from the ground, looking about him. I lay down, too, -getting my head behind a stone which chanced to be near me. I looked -about me too, when it seemed safe. And it did seem safe at first, for we -could hear nothing, and deuce a man could we see! But it wasn't very -pleasant, because we knew that, sure enough, they must be pretty near us -somewhere. Presently the Colonel came crawling back to me. 'What do you -make of it, Rastatz?' he whispered. Before I could answer, we heard a -brisk exchange of fire in front of the barn. 'I don't like it,' I said. -'I can't see them, and I've a notion they can see me, Colonel, and -that's not the pleasantest way to fight, is it?' 'Gad, you're right!' -said he, 'but they won't see me any the better for a cigarette'--and -then and there he lit one. - -"Well, he'd just thrown away his match when a young fellow--quite a lad -he was--a couple of yards from us, suddenly jumped from his belly on to -his knees and called out quite loud--it seemed to me he'd got a sort of -panic--quite loud, he called out: 'Sheepskins! Sheepskins!' I jumped -myself, and I saw the Colonel start. But, by Jove, it was true! When you -took a sniff, you could smell them. Of course I don't mean what the -better class wear--you couldn't have smelt the tunic our lamented -Prince wore, nor the one the witch decked herself out in--but you could -smell a common fellow's sheepskin twenty yards off--ay, against the -wind, unless the wind was mighty strong. - -"'Sheepskins it is!' said the Colonel with a sniff. 'Volsenians, by gad! -It's Mistress Sophia, Rastatz, or some of her friends, anyhow.' Then he -swore worthily: 'Stenovics must have put them up to this! And where the -devil are they, Rastatz?' He raised his head as he spoke, and got his -answer. A bullet came singing along and went right through his shako; it -came from the line of the ditch. He lay down again, laughed a little, -and took a puff at his cigarette before he threw it away. Just then one -of our sentries bellowed from the first barge: 'In the ditch! In the -ditch!' 'I wish you'd spoken a bit sooner,' says the Colonel, laughing -again." - -While this was passing on Stafnitz's side, Sophy and her party were -working quietly and cautiously down the course of the ditch. Under the -shelter of its bank they had been able to hold a brief and hurried -consultation. What they feared was that Stafnitz would make a dash for -the barges. Their fire might drop half his men, but the survivors, when -once on board--and the barges were drawn up to the edge of the -stream--would still be as numerous as themselves, and would command the -course of the ditch, which was at present their great resource and -protection. But if they could get on board before the enemy, they -believed they could hold their own; the decks were covered with -_impedimenta_ of one sort or another which would afford them cover, -while any party which tried to board must expose itself to fire to a -serious and probably fatal extent. - -So they worked down the ditch--except two of them. Little as they could -spare even two, it was judged well to leave these; their instructions -were to fire at short intervals, whether there was much chance of -hitting anybody or not. Dunstanbury hoped by this trick to make Stafnitz -believe that the whole detachment was stationary in the ditch thirty -yards or more from the point where it joined the river. Only ten strong -now--and one of them a woman--they made their way towards the mouth of -the ditch and towards the barges which held the prize they sought. - -But a diversion, and a very effective one, was soon to come from the -front of the barn. Fearing that the party under Sophy and Dunstanbury -might be overpowered, Lukovitch determined on a bold step--that of -enticing the holders of the barn from their shelter. He directed his men -to keep up a brisk fire at the door; he himself and another man--one -Ossip Yensko--disregarding the risk, made a rapid dash across the line -of fire from the barn, for the spot where the horses were. The fire -directed at the door successfully covered their daring movement; they -were among the horses in a moment, and hard at work cutting the bands -with which they were tethered; the animals were half mad with fright, -and the task was one of great danger. - -But the manoeuvre was eminently successful. A cry of "The horses! The -horses!" went up from the barn. Men appeared in the doorway; the -sergeant-major in command himself ran out. Half the horses were loose, -and stampeded along the towing-path down the river. "The horses! The -horses!" The defenders surged out of the barn, in deadly fear of being -caught there in a trap. They preferred the chances of the fire, and -streamed out in a disorderly throng. Lukovitch and Yensko cut loose as -many more horses as they dared wait to release; then, as the defenders -rushed forward, retreated, flying for their lives. Lukovitch came off -with a ball in his arm; Yensko dropped, shot through the heart. The men -behind the hill riddled the defenders with their fire. But now they were -by their horses--such as were left of them--nearer twenty than ten -dotted the grass outside the barn-door. And the survivors were -demoralized; their leader, the sergeant-major, lay dead. They released -the remaining horses, mounted, and with one parting volley fled down the -river. With a cry of triumph, Lukovitch collected the remainder of his -men and dashed round the side of the barn. The next moment Colonel -Stafnitz found himself attacked in his rear as well as held in check -from the ditch in his front. - -"For a moment we thought it was our own men," said Rastatz, continuing -his account, "and the Colonel shouted: 'Don't fire, you fools!' But then -they cheered, and we knew the Volsenian accent--curse them! 'Sheepskins -again!' said the Colonel, with a wry kind of smile. He didn't hesitate -then; he jumped up, crying: 'To the barges! To the barges! Follow me!' - -"We all followed: it was just as safe to go with him as to stay where -you were! We made a dash for it and got to the bank of the river. Then -they rose out of the ditch in front of us--and they were at us behind, -too--with steel now; they daren't shoot, for fear of hitting their own -people in our front. But the idea of a knife in your back isn't -pleasant, and in the end more of our men turned to meet them than went -on with the Colonel. I went on with him, though. I'm always for the -safest place, if there's one safer than another. But here there wasn't, -so I thought I might as well do the proper thing. We met them right by -the water's-edge, and the first I made out was the witch herself, in -sheepskins like the rest of them, white as a sheet, but with that -infernal mark absolutely blazing. She was between Peter Vassip and a -tall man I didn't know--I found out afterwards that he was the -Englishman Dunstanbury--and the three came straight at us. She cried: -'The King! the King!' and behind us we heard Lukovitch and his lot -crying: 'The King! the King!' - -"Our fellows didn't like it, that's the truth. They were uneasy in their -minds about that job of poor old Mistitch's, and they feared the witch -like the devil. The heart was out of them; one lad near me burst out -crying. A witch and a ghost didn't seem pleasant things to fight. Oh, it -was all nonsense, but you know what fellows like that are. Their cry of -'The King!' and the sight of the woman caused a moment's hesitation. It -was enough to give them the drop on us. But the Colonel never hesitated; -he flung himself straight at her, and fired as he sprang. I just saw -what happened before I got a crack on the crown of the head from the -butt-end of a rifle, which knocked me out of time. As the Colonel fired, -Peter Vassip flung himself in front of her, and took the bullet in his -own body. Dunstanbury jumped right on the Colonel, cut him on the arm so -that he dropped his revolver, and grappled with him. Dunstanbury dropped -his sword, and the Colonel's wasn't drawn. It was just a tussle. They -were tussling when the blood came flowing down into my eyes from the -wound on my head; I couldn't see anything more; I fainted. Just as I -went off I heard somebody cry: 'Hands up!' and I imagined the fighting -was pretty well over." - -The fighting was over. One scene remained which Rastatz did not see. -When Colonel Stafnitz, too, heard the call "Hands up!" when the firing -stopped and all became quiet, he ceased to struggle. Dunstanbury found -him suddenly changed to a log beneath him; his hands were already on the -Colonel's throat, and he could have strangled him now without -difficulty. But when Stafnitz no longer tried to defend himself, he -loosed his hold, got up, and stood over him with his hand on the -revolver in his belt. The Colonel fingered his throat a minute, sat up, -looked round, and rose to his feet. He saw Sophy standing before him; by -her side Peter Vassip lay on the ground, tended by Basil Williamson and -one of his comrades. Colonel Stafnitz bowed to Sophy with a smile. - -"I forgot you, madame," said Stafnitz. - -"I didn't forget Monseigneur," she answered. - -He looked round him again, shrugged his shoulders, and seemed to think -for a moment. There was an absolute stillness--a contrast to the -preceding turmoil. But the silence made uncomfortable men whom the fight -had not shaken. Their eyes were set on Stafnitz. - -"The Prince died in fair fight," he said. - -"No; you sent Mistitch to murder him," Sophy replied. Her eyes were -relentless; and Stafnitz was ringed round with enemies. - -"I apologize for this embarrassment. I really ought to have been -killed--it's just a mistake," he said, with a smile. He turned quickly -to Dunstanbury: "You seem to be a gentleman, sir. Pray come with me; I -need a witness." He pointed with his unwounded hand to the barn. - -Dunstanbury bowed assent. The Colonel, in his turn, bowed to Sophy, and -the two of them turned and walked off towards the barn. Sophy stood -motionless, watching them until they turned the corner; then she fell on -her knees and began to talk soothingly to Peter Vassip, who was hard -hit, but, in Basil Williamson's opinion, promised to do well. Sophy was -talking to the poor fellow when the sound of a revolver shot--a single -shot--came from the barn. Colonel Stafnitz had corrected the mistake. -Sophy did not raise her head. A moment later Dunstanbury came back and -rejoined them. He exchanged a look with Sophy, inclining his head as a -man does in answering "Yes." Then she rose. - -"Now for the barges and the guns," she said. - -They could not carry the guns back to Volseni; nor, indeed, was there -any use for them there now. But neither were Monseigneur's guns for the -enemies of Monseigneur. Under Lukovitch's skilled directions (his wound -proved slight) the big guns were so disabled as to remain of little -value, and the barges taken out into mid-stream and there scuttled with -their cargoes. While one party pursued this work, Dunstanbury made the -prisoners collect their wounded and dead, place them on a wagon, and set -out on their march to Slavna. Then his men placed their dead on -horses--they had lost three. Five were wounded besides Peter Vassip, but -none of them severely--all could ride. For Peter they took a cart from -the farm to convey him as far as the ascent to the hills; up that he -would have to be carried by his comrades. - -It was noon before all their work was done. The barges were settling in -the water. As they started to ride back to Volseni, the first sank; the -second was soon to follow it. - -"We have done our work," said Lukovitch. - -And Sophy answered, "Yes." - -But Stafnitz's men had not carried the body of their commander back. -They left it in the barn, cursing him for the trap he had led them into. -Later in the day, the panic-stricken lock-keeper stole out from the -cellar where he had hidden himself, and found it in the barn. He and his -wife lifted it with cursings, bore it to the river, and flung it in. It -was carried over the weir, and floated down to Slavna. They fished it -out with a boat-hook just opposite Suleiman's Tower. The hint to Captain -Sterkoff was a broad one. He reported a vacancy in the command, and sent -the keys of the fort to General Stenovics. It was Sunday morning. - -"The Colonel has got back just when he said he would. But where are the -guns?" asked General Stenovics of Captain Markart. The Captain had by -now made up his mind which turn to take. - -But no power ensued to Stenovics. At the best his fate was a soft -fall--a fall on to a cushioned shelf. The cup of Kravonia's iniquity, -full with the Prince's murder, brimmed over with the punishment of the -man who had caused it. The fight by the lock of Miklevni sealed -Kravonia's fate. Civilization must be vindicated! Long columns of -flat-capped soldiers begin to wind, like a great snake, over the summit -of St. Peter's Pass. Sophy watched them through a telescope from the old -wall of Volseni. - -"Our work is done. Monseigneur has mightier avengers," she said. - - - - -XXIV - -TRUE TO HER LOVE - - -Volseni forgave Sophy its dead and wounded sons. Her popularity blazed -up in a last fierce, flickering fire. The guns were taken; they would -not go to Slavna; they would never batter the walls of Volseni into -fragments. Slavna might be defied again. That was the great thing to -Volseni, and it made little account of the snakelike line which crawled -over St. Peter's Pass, and down to Dobrava, and on to Slavna. Let -Slavna--hated Slavna--reckon with that! And if the snake--or another -like it--came to Volseni? Well, that was better than knuckling down to -Slavna. To-night King Sergius was avenged, and Queen Sophia had returned -in victory! - -For the first time since the King's death the bell of the ancient church -rang joyously, and men sang and feasted in the gray city of the hills. -Thirty from Volseni had beaten a hundred from Slavna; the guns were at -the bottom of the Krath; it was enough. If Sophy had bidden them, they -would have streamed down on Slavna that night in one of those fierce -raids in which their forefathers of the Middle Ages had loved to swoop -upon the plain. - -But Sophy had no delusions. She saw her Crown--that fleeting phantom -ornament, fitly foreseen in the visions of a charlatan--passing from her -brow without a sigh. She had not needed Dunstanbury's arguments to -prove to her that there was no place for her left in Kravonia. She was -content to have it so; she had done enough. Sorrow had not passed from -her face, but serenity had come upon it in fuller measure. She had -struck for Monseigneur, and the blow was witness to her love. It was -enough in her, and enough in little Volseni. Let the mightier avengers -do the rest! - -She had allowed Dunstanbury to leave her after supper in order to make -preparations for a start to the frontier at dawn. "You must certainly -go," she had said, "and perhaps I'll come with you." - -She went at night up on to the wall--always her favorite place; she -loved the spaciousness of air and open country before her there. Basil -Williamson found her deep in thought when he came to tell her of the -progress of the wounded. - -"They're all doing well, and Peter Vassip will live. Dunstanbury has -made him promise to come to him when he's recovered, so you'll meet him -again at all events. And Marie Zerkovitch and her husband talk of -settling in Paris. You won't lose all your Kravonian friends." - -"You assume that I'm coming with you to-morrow morning?" - -"I'm quite safe in assuming that Dunstanbury won't go unless you do," he -answered, smiling. "We can't leave you alone here, you know." - -"I shouldn't stay here, anyhow," she said. "Or, at any rate, I should be -where nobody could hurt me." She pointed at a dim lantern, fastened to -the gate-tower by an iron clamp, then waved her hand towards the -surrounding darkness. "That's life, isn't it?" she asked. "If I believed -that I could go to Monseigneur, I would go to-night--nay, I would have -gone at Miklevni; it was only putting my head out of that ditch a minute -sooner! If I believed even that I could lie in the church there and know -that he was near! If I believed even that I could lie there quietly and -remember and think of him! You're a man of science--you're not a -peasant's child, as I am. What do you think? You mustn't wonder that -I've had my thoughts, too. At Lady Meg's we did little else than try to -find out whether we were going on anywhere else. That's all she cared -about. And if she does ever get to a next world, she won't care about -that; she'll only go on trying to find out whether there's still another -beyond. What do you think?" - -"I hardly expected to find you so philosophically inclined," he said. - -"It's a practical question with me now. On its answer depends whether I -come with you or stay here--by Monseigneur in the church." - -Basil said something professional--something about nerves and temporary -strain. But he performed this homage to medical etiquette in a rather -perfunctory fashion. He had never seen a woman more composed or more -obviously and perfectly healthy. Sophy smiled and went on: - -"But if I live, I'm sure at least of being able to think and able to -remember. It comes to a gamble, doesn't it? It's just possible I might -get more; it's quite likely--I think it's probable--I should lose even -what I have now." - -"I think you're probably right about the chances of the gamble," he told -her, "though no doubt certainty is out of place--or at least one doesn't -talk about it. Shall I tell you what science says?" - -"No," said Sophy, smiling faintly. "Science thinks in multitudes--and -I'm thinking of the individual to-night. Even Lady Meg never made much -of science, you know." - -"Do you remember the day when I heard you your Catechism in the avenue -at Morpingham?" - -"Yes, I remember. Does the Catechism hold good in Kravonia, though?" - -"It continues, anyhow, a valuable document in its bearing on this life. -You remember the mistake you made, I dare say?" - -"I've never forgotten it. It's had something to do with it all," said -Sophy. "That's how you, as well as Lord Dunstanbury, come in at the -beginning as you do at the end." - -"Has it nothing to do with the question now--putting it in any -particular phraseology you like?" In his turn he pointed at the smoky -lantern. "That's not life," he said, growing more earnest, yet smiling. -"That's now--just here and now--and, yes, it's very smoky." He waved his -hand over the darkness. "That's life. Dark? Yes, but the night will -lift, the darkness pass away; valley and sparkling lake will be there, -and the summit of the heaven-kissing hills. Life cries to you with a -sweet voice." - -"Yes," she murmured, "with a sweet voice. And perhaps some day there -would be light on the hills. But, ah, I'm torn in sunder this night. I -wish I had died there at Miklevni while my blood was hot." She paused a -long while in thought. Then she went on: "If I go, I must go while it's -still dark, and while these good people sleep. Go and tell Lord -Dunstanbury to be ready to start an hour before dawn; and do you and he -come then to the door of the church. If I'm not waiting for you there, -come inside and find me." - -He started towards her with an eager gesture of protest. She raised her -hand and checked him. - -"No, I've decided nothing. I can't tell yet," she said. She turned and -left him; he heard her steps descending the old winding stair which led -from the top of the wall down into the street. He did not know whether -he would see her alive again--and with her message of such ambiguous -meaning he went to Dunstanbury. Yet curiously, though he had pleaded so -urgently with her, though to him her death would mean the loss of one of -the beautiful things from out the earth, he was in no distress for her -and did not dream of attempting any constraint. She knew her -strength--she would choose right. If life were tolerable, she would take -up the burden. If not, she would let it lie unlifted at her quiet feet. - -His mood could not be Dunstanbury's, who had come to count her presence -as the light of the life that was his. Yet Dunstanbury heard the message -quietly, and quietly made every preparation in obedience to her bidding. -That done, he sat in the little room of the inn and smoked his pipe with -Basil. Henry Brown waited his word to take the horses to the door of the -church. Basil Williamson had divined his friend's feeling for Sophy, and -wondered at his calmness. - -"If I felt the doubt that you do, I shouldn't be calm," said -Dunstanbury. "But I know her. She will be true to her love." - -He could not be speaking of that love of hers which was finished, whose -end she was now mourning in the little church. It must be of another -love that he spoke--of one bred in her nature, the outcome of her -temperament and of her being the woman that she was. The spirit which -had brought her to Slavna had made her play her part there, had -welcomed and caught at every change and chance of fortune, had never -laid down the sword till the blow was struck--that spirit would preserve -her and give her back to life now--and some day give life back to her. - -He was right. When they came to the door of the church, she was there. -For the first time since Monseigneur had died, her eyes were red with -weeping; but her face was calm. She gave her hand to Dunstanbury. - -"Come, let us mount," she said. "I have said 'Good-bye.'" - -Lukovitch knew Dunstanbury's plans. He was waiting for them at the gate, -his arm in a sling, and with him were the Zerkovitches. These last they -would see again; it was probably farewell forever to gallant Lukovitch. -He kissed the silver ring on Sophy's finger. - -"I brought nothing into Kravonia," she said, "and I carry nothing out, -except this ring which Monseigneur put on my finger--the ring of the -Bailiffs of Volseni." - -"Keep it," said Lukovitch. "I think there will be no more Bailiffs of -Volseni--or some Prince, not of our choosing, will take the title by his -own will. He will not be our Bailiff, as Monseigneur was. You will be -our Bailiff, though our eyes never see you, and you never see our old -gray walls again. Madame, have a kindly place in your heart for Volseni. -We sha'n't forget you nor the blow we struck under your leadership. The -fight at Miklevni may well be the last that we shall fight as free men." - -"Volseni is written on my heart," she answered. "I shall not forget." - -She bade her friends farewell, and then ordered Lukovitch to throw open -the gate. She and the three Englishmen rode through, Henry Brown leading -the pack-horse by the bridle. The mountains were growing gray with the -first approaches of dawn. - -As she rode through, Sophy paused a moment, leaned sideways in her -saddle, and kissed the ancient lintel of the door. - -"Peace be on this place," she said, "and peace to the tomb where -Monseigneur lies buried!" - -"Peace be on thy head and fortune with thee!" answered Lukovitch in the -traditional words of farewell. He kissed her hand again, and they -departed. - -It was high morning when they rode up the ascent to St. Peter's Pass and -came to the spot where their cross-track joined the main road over the -pass from Dobrava and the capital. In silence they mounted to the -summit. The road under their horses' feet was trampled with the march of -the thousands of men who had passed over it in an irresistible advance -on Slavna. - -At the summit of the pass they stopped, and Sophy turned to look back. -She sat there for a long while in silence. - -"I have loved this land," at last she said. "It has given me much, and -very much it has taken away. Now the face of it is to be changed. But in -my heart the memory of it will not change." She looked across the -valley, across the sparkling face of Lake Talti, to the gray walls of -Volseni, and kissed her hand. "Farewell, Monseigneur!" she whispered, -very low. - -The day of Kravonia was done. The head of the great snake had reached -Slavna. Countess Ellenburg and young Alexis were in flight. Stenovics -took orders where he had looked to rule. The death of Monseigneur was -indeed avenged. But there was no place for Sophy, the Queen of a -tempestuous hour. - -They set their horses' heads towards the frontier. They began the -descent on the other side. The lake was gone, the familiar hills -vanished; only in the eye of memory stood old Volseni still set in its -gray mountains. Sophy rode forth from Kravonia in her sheepskins and her -silver ring--the last Queen of Kravonia, the last Bailiff of Volseni, -the last chosen leader of the mountain men. But the memory of the Red -Star lived after her--how she loved Monseigneur and avenged him, how her -face was fairer than the face of other women, and more pale--and how the -Red Star glowed in sorrow and in joy, in love and in clash of arms, -promising to some glory and to others death. In the street of Volseni -and in the cabins among the hills you may hear the tale of the Red Star -yet. - -As she passed the border of the land which was so great in her life, by -a freak of memory Sophy recalled a picture till now forgotten--a woman, -unknown, untraced, unreckoned, who had passed down the Street of the -Fountain, weeping bitterly--an obscure symbol of great woes, of the -tribute life pays to its unresting enemies. - -Yet to the unconquerable heart life stands unconquered. What danger had -not shaken not even sorrow could overthrow. She rode into the future -with Dunstanbury on her right hand--patience in his mind, and in his -heart hope. Some day the sun would shine on the summit of heaven-kissing -hills. - - -THE END - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sophy of Kravonia, by Anthony Hope - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOPHY OF KRAVONIA *** - -***** This file should be named 40414-8.txt or 40414-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/4/1/40414/ - -Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Sophy of Kravonia - A Novel - -Author: Anthony Hope - -Release Date: August 5, 2012 [EBook #40414] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOPHY OF KRAVONIA *** - - - - -Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - - - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/tp.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> - - -<h1>SOPHY OF KRAVONIA</h1> - -<h3>A Novel</h3> - -<h2>BY ANTHONY HOPE</h2> - -<h3>AUTHOR OF "THE PRISONER OF ZENDA," "THE INTRUSIONS OF PEGGY," ETC.</h3> - -<p class="center">NEW YORK AND LONDON<br /> -HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS<br /> -MCMVI</p> - -<p class="center">Copyright, 1905, by <span class="smcap">Anthony Hope Hawkins</span>.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>All rights reserved.</i></p> - -<p class="center">Published October, 1906. </p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table summary="contents intor"> -<col width="50" /> -<col width="300" /> -<col width="50" /> -<tr><td align="right"></td><td><a href="#INTRODUCTION"><span class="smcap">Introduction</span> </a></td><td align="right">v</td></tr> -</table> - -<h3>Part I</h3> - -<h2>MORPINGHAM</h2> - -<table summary="contents part 1"> -<col width="50" /> -<col width="300" /> -<col width="50" /> -<tr><td align="right">I. </td><td><a href="#IA"><span class="smcap">Enoch Grouch's Daughter</span> </a></td><td align="right">3</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">II. </td><td><a href="#IIA"><span class="smcap">The Cook and the Catechism</span> </a></td><td align="right">10</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">III. </td><td><a href="#IIIA"><span class="smcap">Beautiful Julia—and my Lord</span> </a></td><td align="right">19</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">IV. </td><td><a href="#IVA"><span class="smcap">Fate's Way—or Lady Meg's</span> </a></td><td align="right">29</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">V. </td><td><a href="#VA"><span class="smcap">The Vision of "Something Bright"</span> </a></td><td align="right">40</td></tr> -</table> - -<h3>PART II</h3> - -<h2>PARIS</h2> - -<table summary="contents part 2"> -<col width="50" /> -<col width="300" /> -<col width="50" /> -<tr><td align="right">I. </td><td><a href="#IB"><span class="smcap">Pharos, Mantis, and Co.</span> </a></td><td align="right">45</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">II. </td><td><a href="#IIB"><span class="smcap">The Lord of Youth</span> </a></td><td align="right">55</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">III. </td><td><a href="#IIIB"><span class="smcap">The Note—and no Reasons</span> </a></td><td align="right">64</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">IV. </td><td><a href="#IVB"><span class="smcap">The Picture and the Star</span> </a></td><td align="right">72</td></tr> -</table> - -<h3>PART III</h3> - -<h2>KRAVONIA</h2> - -<table summary="contents part 3"> -<col width="50" /> -<col width="300" /> -<col width="50" /> -<tr><td align="right">I. </td><td><a href="#I"><span class="smcap">The Name-Day of the King</span> </a></td><td align="right">79</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">II. </td><td><a href="#II"><span class="smcap">At the Golden Lion</span> </a></td><td align="right">90</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">III. </td><td><a href="#III"><span class="smcap">The Virgin with the Lamp</span> </a></td><td align="right">101</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">IV. </td><td><a href="#IV"><span class="smcap">The Message of the Night</span> </a></td><td align="right">110</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">V. </td><td><a href="#V"><span class="smcap">A Question of Memory</span> </a></td><td align="right">118</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">VI. </td><td><a href="#VI"><span class="smcap">"Impossible" or "Immediate"?</span> </a></td><td align="right">129</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">VII. </td><td><a href="#VII"><span class="smcap">The Baroness Goes to Court</span> </a></td><td align="right">139</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">VIII. </td><td><a href="#VIII"><span class="smcap">Monseigneur's Uniform</span> </a></td><td align="right">149</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">IX. </td><td><a href="#IX"><span class="smcap">Countess Ellenburg Prays</span> </a></td><td align="right">159</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">X. </td><td><a href="#X"><span class="smcap">The Sound of a Trumpet</span> </a></td><td align="right">169</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">XI. </td><td><a href="#XI"><span class="smcap">M. Zerkovitch's Bedroom Fire</span> </a></td><td align="right">180</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">XII. </td><td><a href="#XII"><span class="smcap">Joyful of Heart</span> </a></td><td align="right">193</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">XIII. </td><td><a href="#XIII"><span class="smcap">A Delicate Duty</span> </a></td><td align="right">203</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">XIV. </td><td><a href="#XIV"><span class="smcap">His Majesty Dies—To-Morrow!</span> </a></td><td align="right">216</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">XV. </td><td><a href="#XV"><span class="smcap">A Job for Captain Hercules</span> </a></td><td align="right">225</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">XVI. </td><td><a href="#XVI"><span class="smcap">A Frenchman and a Mattress</span> </a></td><td align="right">235</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">XVII. </td><td><a href="#XVII"><span class="smcap">Ingenious Colonel Stafnitz</span> </a></td><td align="right">246</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">XVIII. </td><td><a href="#XVIII"><span class="smcap">To the Faithful City</span> </a></td><td align="right">258</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">XIX. </td><td><a href="#XIX"><span class="smcap">The Silver Ring</span> </a></td><td align="right">267</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">XX. </td><td><a href="#XX"><span class="smcap">They Have Colds in Slavna</span> </a></td><td align="right">280</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">XXI. </td><td><a href="#XXI"><span class="smcap">On Saturday at Miklevni!</span> </a></td><td align="right">292</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">XXII. </td><td><a href="#XXII"><span class="smcap">Jealous of Death</span> </a></td><td align="right">303</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">XXIII. </td><td><a href="#XXIII"><span class="smcap">A Woman and a Ghost</span> </a></td><td align="right">313</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">XXIV. </td><td><a href="#XXIV"><span class="smcap">True to Her Love</span> </a></td><td align="right">325</td></tr> -</table> - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="INTRODUCTION" id="INTRODUCTION"></a>INTRODUCTION</h2> - - -<p>The following narrative falls naturally into three divisions, -corresponding to distinct and clearly marked periods of Sophy's life. Of -the first and second—her childhood at Morpingham and her sojourn in -Paris—the records are fragmentary, and tradition does little to -supplement them. As regards Morpingham, the loss is small. The annals of -a little maid-servant may be left in vagueness without much loss. Enough -remains to show both the manner of child Sophy was and how it fell out -that she spread her wings and left the Essex village far behind her. It -is a different affair when we come to the French period. The years spent -in and near Paris, in the care and under the roof of Lady Margaret -Duddington, were of crucial moment in Sophy's development. They changed -her from what she had been and made her what she was to be. Without -Paris, Kravonia, still extraordinary, would have been impossible.</p> - -<p>Yet the surviving history of Paris and the life there is scanty. Only a -sketch is possible. A record existed—and a fairly full one—in the -Julia Robins correspondence; that we know from Miss Robins herself. But -the letters written from Paris by Sophy to her lifelong friend have, -with some few exceptions, perished. Miss Robins accounts for this—and -in view of her careful preservation of later correspondence, her apology -must be accepted—by the fact that during these years—from 1866 to -1870—she was constantly travelling from town to town and from lodging -to lodging, as a member of various theatrical companies; this nomadic -existence did not promote the careful and methodical storage of her -letters. It may, of course, be added that no such obvious interest -attached to these records as gathered round Sophy's doings after she had -exchanged Paris and the Rue de Grenelle for Slavna and the Castle of -Praslok.</p> - -<p>When this migration has been effected, the historian is on much firmer -ground; he is even embarrassed sometimes by the abundance of material of -varying value. Apart from public records and general memory (both -carefully consulted on the spot), the two main sources flow from Sophy's -own hand. They are the Robins correspondence and the diary. Nearly to -the end the letters are very constant, very full, very instructive; but -they are composed with an obvious view to the tastes and interests of -their recipient, and by no means always devote most space to what now -seems of greatest interest. In one point, however, Miss Robins's tastes -prove of real service. This lady, who rose to a respectable, if not a -high, position as a Shakespearian actress, was much devoted to the study -of costume, and Sophy, aware of this hobby, never omits to tell her with -minute care what she herself wore on every occasion, what the other -ladies wore, and what were the uniforms, military or civil, in which the -men were arrayed. Trivial, perhaps, yet of great value in picturing the -scenes!</p> - -<p>In her letters Sophy is also copious in depicting places, houses, and -landscapes—matters on which the diary is naturally not so full. So -that, in spite of their great faults, the letters form a valuable -supplement to the diary. Yet what faults—nay, what crimes! Sophy had -learned to talk French perfectly and to write it fairly well. She had -not learned to write English well or even decently; the letters are, in -fact, a charnel-house of murdered grammar and broken-backed sentences. -Still there emerge from it all a shrewdness and a rural vigor and -raciness which show that the child of the little Essex farm-house -survived in the writer.</p> - -<p>But for this Kravonian period—the great period—the diary is the thing. -Yet it is one of the most unconscientious diaries ever written. It is -full of gaps; it is often posted up very unpunctually; it is sometimes -exasperatingly obscure—there may be some intention in that; she could -not tell into what hands it might fall. But it covers most of the -ground; it begins almost with Sophy's arrival in Slavna, and the last -entry records her discovery of Lord Dunstanbury's presence in Kravonia. -It is written for the most part in French, and she wrote French, as has -been said, decently—nay, even forcibly, though not with elegance; yet -she frequently relapses into English—often of a very colloquial order: -this happens mostly under the influence of anger or some other strong -emotion. And she is dramatic—that must be allowed to her. She -concentrates her attention on what she conceives (nor is her instinct -far out) to be her great scenes; she gives (or purports to give) a -verbatim report of critical conversations, and it is only just to say -that she allows her interlocutors fair play. She has candor—and that, -working with the dramatic sense in her, forbids her to warp the scene. -In the earlier parts of the story she shows keen appreciation of its -lighter aspects; as times grow graver, her records, too, change in mood, -working up to the tense excitement, the keen struggle, the burning -emotions of her last days in Kravonia. Yet even then she always finds -time for a laugh and a touch of gayety.</p> - -<p>When Sophy herself ceases to be our guide, Lord Dunstanbury's notes -become the main authority. They are supplemented by the recollection of -Mr. Basil Williamson, now practising his profession of surgery in -Australia; and this narrative is also indebted to Colonel Markart, -sometime secretary to General Stenovics, for much important information -which, as emanating from the enemy's camp, was not accessible to Sophy -or her informants. The contributions of other actors in the drama, too -numerous to mention here, will be easily identified in their place in -the story.</p> - -<p>A word seems desirable on one other subject, and no mean one; for it is -certain that Sophy's physical gifts were a powerful ally to her -ambition, her strong will, and her courage; it is certain, too, that she -did not shrink from making the most of this reinforcement to her powers. -All the authorities named above—not excepting Sophy herself—have -plenty to say on the topic, and from their descriptions a portrait of -her may be attempted. Of actual pictures one only exists—in the -possession of the present Lord Dunstanbury, who succeeded his -father—Sophy's Earl—a few years ago. It is a pastel, drawn just before -she left Paris—and, to be frank, it is something of a disappointment; -the taste of the 'sixties is betrayed in a simper which sits on the lips -but is alien to the character of them. Still the outline and the color -are there.</p> - -<p>Her hair was very dark, long, and thick; her nose straight and fine, her -lips firm and a trifle full. Her complexion was ordinarily very pale, -and she did not flush save under considerable agitation of mind or -exertion of body. She was above the middle height, finely formed, and -slender. It was sometimes, indeed, objected that her shape was too -masculine—the shoulders a trifle too square and the hips too small for -a woman. These are, after all, matters of taste; she would not have been -thought amiss in ancient Athens. All witnesses agree in describing her -charm as lying largely in movement, in vivacity, in a sense of -suppressed force trying to break out, or (as Mr. Williamson puts it) of -"tremendous driving power."</p> - -<p>The personality seems to stand out fairly distinct from these -descriptions, and we need the less regret that a second picture, known -to have been painted soon after her arrival in Kravonia, has perished -either through carelessness or (more probably) by deliberate -destruction; there were many in Kravonia not too anxious that even a -counterfeit presentment of the famous "Red Star" and its wearer should -survive. It would carry its memories and its reproach.</p> - -<p>"The Red Star!" The name appears first in a letter of the Paris -period—one of the few which are in existence. Its invention is -attributed by Sophy to her friend the Marquis de Savres (of whom we -shall hear again). He himself used it often. But of the thing we hear -very early—and go on hearing from time to time. Sophy at first calls it -"my mark," but she speedily adopts Monsieur le Marquis's more poetical -term, and by that description it is known throughout her subsequent -career. The polite artist of the 'sixties shirked it altogether by -giving a half-profile view of his subject, thus not showing the left -cheek where the "star" was situated.</p> - -<p>It was, in fact, a small birth-mark, placed just below the cheek-bone, -almost round, yet with a slightly indented outline. No doubt a lover -(and M. de Savres was one) found warrant enough for his phrase. At -ordinary times it was a very pale red in color, but (unlike the rest of -her face) it was very rapidly sensitive to any change of mood or temper; -in moments of excitement the shade deepened greatly, and (as Colonel -Markart says in his hyperbolic strain) "it glowed like angry Venus." -Without going quite that length, we are bound to allow that it was, at -these moments, a conspicuous and striking mark, and such it clearly -appeared to the eyes of all who saw it. "La dame à l'étoile rouge," says -the Marquis. "The Red-starred Witch," said the less courteous and more -hostile citizens and soldiers of Kravonia. Sophy herself appears proud -of it, though she feigns to consider it a blemish. Very probably it was -one of those peculiarities which become so closely associated and -identified with the personality to which they belong as at once to -heighten the love of friends and to attract an increased dislike or -hatred from those already disposed or committed to enmity. At any rate, -for good or evil, it is as "Red Star" that the name of Sophy lives -to-day in the cities and mountains of Kravonia.</p> - -<p>So much in preface; now to the story. Little historical importance can -be claimed for it. But amateurs of the picturesque, if yet there be such -in this business-like world, may care to follow Sophy from Morpingham to -Paris, to share her flight from the doomed city, to be with her in the -Street of the Fountain, at venerable Praslok, on Volseni's crumbling -wall, by the banks of the swift-flowing Krath at dawn of day—to taste -something of the spirit that filled, to feel something of the love that -moved, the heart of Sophy Grouch of Morpingham, in the county of Essex. -Still, sometimes Romance beckons back her ancient votaries.</p> - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2>SOPHY OF KRAVONIA</h2> - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2>PART I</h2> - -<h2>MORPINGHAM</h2> - - - - - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="IA" id="IA"></a>I</h2> - -<h3>ENOCH GROUCH'S DAUGHTER</h3> - - -<p>Grouch! That is the name—and in the interest of euphony it is -impossible not to regret the fact. Some say it should be spelled -"Groutch," which would not at all mend matters, though it makes the -pronunciation clear beyond doubt—the word must rhyme with "crouch" and -"couch." Well might Lady Meg Duddington swear it was the ugliest name -she had ever heard in her life! Sophy was not of a very different -opinion, as will be shown by-and-by. She was Grouch on both -sides—unmixed and unredeemed. For Enoch Grouch married his uncle's -daughter Sally, and begat, as his first child, Sophy. Two other children -were born to him, but they died in early infancy. Mrs. Grouch did not -long survive the death of her little ones; she was herself laid in -Morpingham church-yard when Sophy was no more than five years old. The -child was left to the sole care of her father, a man who had married -late for his class—indeed, late for any class—and was already well on -in middle age. He held a very small farm, lying about half a mile behind -the church. Probably he made a hard living of it, for the only servant -in his household was a slip of a girl of fifteen, who had, presumably, -both to cook and scrub for him and to look after the infant Sophy. -Nothing is remembered of him in Morpingham. Perhaps there was nothing to -remember—nothing that marked him off from thousands like him; perhaps -the story of his death, which lives in the village traditions, blotted -out the inconspicuous record of his laborious life.</p> - -<p>Morpingham lies within twenty-five miles of London, but for all that it -is a sequestered and primitive village. It contained, at this time at -least, but three houses with pretensions to gentility—the Hall, the -Rectory, and a smaller house across the village street, facing the -Rectory. At the end of the street stood the Hall in its grounds. This -was a handsome, red-brick house, set in a spacious garden. Along one -side of the garden there ran a deep ditch, and on the other side of the -ditch, between it and a large meadow, was a path which led to the -church. Thus the church stood behind the Hall grounds; and again, as has -been said, beyond the church was Enoch Grouch's modest farm, held of Mr. -Brownlow, the owner of the Hall. The church path was the favorite resort -of the villagers, and deservedly, for it was shaded and beautified by a -fine double row of old elms, forming a stately avenue to the humble -little house of worship.</p> - -<p>On an autumn evening in the year 1855 Enoch Grouch was returning from -the village, where he had been to buy tobacco. His little girl was with -him. It was wild weather. A gale had been blowing for full twenty-four -hours, and in the previous night a mighty bough had been snapped from -one of the great elms and had fallen with a crash. It lay now right -across the path. As they went to the village, her father had indulged -Sophy with a ride on the bough, and she begged a renewal of the treat on -their homeward journey. The farmer was a kind man—more kind than wise, -as it proved, on this occasion. He set the child astraddle on the thick -end of the bough, then went to the other end, which was much slenderer. -Probably his object was to try to shake the bough and please his small -tyrant with the imitation of a see-saw. The fallen bough suggested no -danger to his slow-moving mind. He leaned down towards the bough with -out-stretched hands—Sophy, no doubt, watching his doings with excited -interest—while the wind raged and revelled among the great branches -over their heads. Enoch tried to move the bough, but failed; in order to -make another effort, he fell on his knees and bent his back over it.</p> - -<p>At this moment there came a loud crash—heard in the Rectory grounds and -in the dining-room at Woodbine Cottage, the small house opposite.</p> - -<p>"There's another tree gone!" cried Basil Williamson, the Rector's second -son, who was giving his retriever an evening run.</p> - -<p>He raced through the Rectory gate, across the road, and into the avenue.</p> - -<p>A second later the garden gate of Woodbine Cottage opened, and Julia, -the ten-years-old daughter of a widow named Robins who lived there, came -out at full speed. Seeing Basil just ahead of her, she called out: "Did -you hear?"</p> - -<p>He knew her voice—they were playmates—and answered without looking -back: "Yes. Isn't it fun? Keep outside the trees—keep well in the -meadow!"</p> - -<p>"Stuff!" she shouted, laughing. "They don't fall every minute, silly!"</p> - -<p>Running as they exchanged these words, they soon came to where the -bough—or, rather, the two boughs—had fallen. A tragic sight met their -eyes. The second bough had caught the unlucky farmer just on the nape of -his neck, and had driven him down, face forward, onto the first. He lay -with his neck close pinned between the two, and his arms spread out over -the undermost. His face was bad to look at; he was quite dead, and -apparently death must have been instantaneous. Sobered and appalled, the -boy and girl stood looking from the terrible sight to each other's -faces.</p> - -<p>"Is he dead?" Julia whispered.</p> - -<p>"I expect so," the boy answered. Neither of them had seen death before.</p> - -<p>The next moment he raised his voice and shouted: "Help, help!" then laid -hold of the upper bough and strove with all his might to raise it. The -girl gave a shriller cry for assistance and then lent a hand to his -efforts. But between them they could not move the great log.</p> - -<p>Up to now neither of them had perceived Sophy.</p> - -<p>Next on the scene was Mr. Brownlow, the master of the Hall. He had been -in his greenhouse and heard the crash of the bough. Of that he took no -heed—nothing could be done save heave a sigh over the damage to his -cherished elms. But when the cries for help reached his ears, with -praiseworthy promptitude he rushed out straight across his lawn, and -(though he was elderly and stout) dropped into the ditch, clambered out -of it, and came where the dead man and the children were. As he passed -the drawing-room windows, he called out to his wife: "Somebody's hurt, -I'm afraid"; and she, after a moment's conference with the butler, -followed her husband, but, not being able to manage the ditch, went -round by the road and up the avenue, the servant coming with her. When -these two arrived, the Squire's help had availed to release the farmer -from the deadly grip of the two boughs, and he lay now on his back on -the path.</p> - -<p>"He's dead, poor fellow," said Mr. Brownlow.</p> - -<p>"It's Enoch Grouch!" said the butler, giving a shudder as he looked at -the farmer's face. Julia Robins sobbed, and the boy Basil looked up at -the Squire's face with grave eyes.</p> - -<p>"I'll get a hurdle, sir," said the butler. His master nodded, and he ran -off.</p> - -<p>Something moved on the path—about a yard from the thick end of the -lower bough.</p> - -<p>"Look there!" cried Julia Robins. A little wail followed. With an -exclamation, Mrs. Brownlow darted to the spot. The child lay there with -a cut on her forehead. Apparently the impact of the second bough had -caused the end of the first to fly upward; Sophy had been jerked from -her seat into the air, and had fallen back on the path, striking her -head on a stone. Mrs. Brownlow picked her up, wiped the blood from her -brow, and saw that the injury was slight. Sophy began to cry softly, and -Mrs. Brownlow soothed her.</p> - -<p>"It's his little girl," said Julia Robins. "The little girl with the -mark on her cheek, please, Mrs. Brownlow."</p> - -<p>"Poor little thing! Poor little thing!" Mrs. Brownlow murmured; she knew -that death had robbed the child of her only relative and protector.</p> - -<p>The butler now came back with a hurdle and two men, and Enoch Grouch's -body was taken into the saddle-room at the Hall. Mrs. Brownlow followed -the procession, Sophy still in her arms. At the end of the avenue she -spoke to the boy and girl:</p> - -<p>"Go home, Basil; tell your father, and ask him to come to the Hall. -Good-night, Julia. Tell your mother—and don't cry any more. The poor -man is with God, and I sha'n't let this mite come to harm." She was a -childless woman, with a motherly heart, and as she spoke she kissed -Sophy's wounded forehead. Then she went into the Hall grounds, and the -boy and girl were left together in the road. Basil shook his fist at the -avenue of elms—his favorite playground.</p> - -<p>"Hang those beastly trees!" he cried. "I'd cut them all down if I was -Mr. Brownlow."</p> - -<p>"I must go and tell mother," said Julia. "And you'd better go, too."</p> - -<p>"Yes," he assented, but lingered for a moment, still looking at the -trees as though reluctantly fascinated by them.</p> - -<p>"Mother always said something would happen to that little girl," said -Julia, with a grave and important look in her eyes.</p> - -<p>"Why?" the boy asked, brusquely.</p> - -<p>"Because of that mark—that mark she's got on her cheek."</p> - -<p>"What rot!" he said, but he looked at his companion uneasily. The event -of the evening had stirred the superstitious fears seldom hard to stir -in children.</p> - -<p>"People don't have those marks for nothing—so mother says." Other -people, no wiser, said the same thing later.</p> - -<p>"Rot!" Basil muttered again. "Oh, well, I must go."</p> - -<p>She glanced at him timidly. "Just come as far as our door with me. I'm -afraid."</p> - -<p>"Afraid!" He smiled scornfully. "All right!"</p> - -<p>He walked with her to the door of Woodbine Cottage, and waited till it -closed behind her, performing the escort with a bold and lordly air. -Left alone in the fast-darkening night, with nobody in sight, with no -sound save the ceaseless voice of the angry wind essaying new mischief -in the tops of the elm-trees, he stood for a moment listening fearfully. -Then he laid his sturdy legs to the ground and fled for home, looking -neither to right nor left till he reached the hospitable light of his -father's study. The lad had been brave in face of the visible horror; -fear struck him in the moment of Julia's talk about the mark on the -child's cheek. Scornful and furious at himself, yet he was mysteriously -afraid.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="IIA" id="IIA"></a>II</h2> - -<h3>THE COOK AND THE CATECHISM</h3> - - -<p>Sophy Grouch had gone to lay a bunch of flowers on her father's grave. -From the first Mrs. Brownlow had taught her this pious rite, and Mrs. -Brownlow's deputy, the gardener's wife (in whose cottage Sophy lived), -had seen to its punctual performance every week. Things went by law and -rule at the Hall, for the Squire was a man of active mind and ample -leisure. His household code was a marvel of intricacy and minuteness. -Sophy's coming and staying had developed a multitude of new clauses, -under whose benevolent yet strict operation her youthful mind had been -trained in the way in which Mr. Brownlow was of opinion that it should -go.</p> - -<p>Sophy's face, then, wore a grave and responsible air as she returned -with steps of decorous slowness from the sacred precincts. Yet the outer -manner was automatic—the result of seven years' practice. Within, her -mind was busy: the day was one of mark in her life; she had been told -her destined future, and was wondering how she would like it.</p> - -<p>Her approach was perceived by a tall and pretty girl who lay in the -meadow-grass (and munched a blade of it) which bordered the path under -the elm-trees.</p> - -<p>"What a demure little witch she looks!" laughed Julia Robins, who was -much in the mood for laughter that day, greeting with responsive gleam -of the eyes the sunlight which fell in speckles of radiance through the -leaves above. It was a summer day, and summer was in her heart, too; yet -not for the common cause with young maidens; it was no nonsense about -love-making—lofty ambition was in the case to-day.</p> - -<p>"Sophy Grouch! Sophy Grouch!" she cried, in a high, merry voice.</p> - -<p>Sophy raised her eyes, but her steps did not quicken. With the same -measured paces of her lanky, lean, little legs, she came up to where -Julia lay.</p> - -<p>"Why don't you say just 'Sophy'?" she asked. "I'm the only Sophy in the -village."</p> - -<p>"Sophy Grouch! Sophy Grouch!" Julia repeated, teasingly.</p> - -<p>The mark on Sophy's left cheek grew redder. Julia laughed mockingly. -Sophy looked down on her, still very grave.</p> - -<p>"You do look pretty to-day," she observed—"and happy."</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes! So I tease you, don't I? But I like to see you hang out your -danger-signal."</p> - -<p>She held out her arms to the little girl. Sophy came and kissed her, -then sat down beside her.</p> - -<p>"Forgive?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Sophy. "Do you think it's a very awful name?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, you'll change it some day," smiled Julia, speaking more truth than -she knew. "Listen! Mother's consented, consented, consented! I'm to go -and live with Uncle Edward in London—London, Sophy!—and learn -elocution—"</p> - -<p>"Learn what?"</p> - -<p>"E-lo-cu-tion—which means how to talk so that people can hear you ever -so far off—"</p> - -<p>"To shout?"</p> - -<p>"No. Don't be stupid. To—to be heard plainly without shouting. To be -heard in a theatre! Did you ever see a theatre?"</p> - -<p>"No. Only a circus. I haven't seen much."</p> - -<p>"And then—the stage! I'm to be an actress! Fancy mother consenting at -last! An actress instead of a governess! Isn't it glorious?" She paused -a moment, then added, with a self-conscious laugh: "Basil's awfully -angry, though."</p> - -<p>"Why should he be angry?" asked Sophy. Her own anger was gone; she was -plucking daisies and sticking them here and there in her friend's golden -hair. They were great friends, this pair, and Sophy was very proud of -the friendship. Julia was grown up, the beauty of the village, and—a -lady! Now Sophy was by no means any one of these things.</p> - -<p>"Oh, you wouldn't understand," laughed Julia, with a blush.</p> - -<p>"Does he want to keep company with you—and won't you do it?"</p> - -<p>"Only servants keep company, Sophy."</p> - -<p>"Oh!" said Sophy, obviously making a mental note of the information.</p> - -<p>"But he's very silly about it. I've just said 'Good-bye,' to him—you -know he goes up to Cambridge to-morrow?—and he did say a lot of silly -things." She suddenly caught hold of Sophy and kissed her half a dozen -times. "It's a wonderful thing that's happened. I'm so tremendously -happy!" She set her little friend free with a last kiss and a playful -pinch.</p> - -<p>Neither caress nor pinch disturbed Sophy's composure. She sat down on -the grass.</p> - -<p>"Something's happened to me, too, to-day," she announced.</p> - -<p>"Has it, Tots? What is it?" asked Julia, smiling indulgently; the great -events in other lives are thus sufficiently acknowledged.</p> - -<p>"I've left school, and I'm going to leave Mrs. James's and go and live -at the Hall, and be taught to help cook; and when I'm grown up I'm going -to be cook." She spoke slowly and weightily, her eyes fixed on Julia's -face.</p> - -<p>"Well, I call it a shame!" cried Julia, in generous indignation. "Oh, of -course it would be all right if they'd treated you properly—I mean, as -if they'd meant that from the beginning. But they haven't. You've lived -with Mrs. James, I know; but you've been in and out of the Hall all the -time, having tea in the drawing-room, and fruit at dessert, and—and so -on. And you look like a little lady, and talk like one—almost. I think -it's a shame not to give you a better chance. Cook!"</p> - -<p>"Don't you think it might be rather nice to be a cook—a good cook?"</p> - -<p>"No, I don't," answered the budding Mrs. Siddons, decisively.</p> - -<p>"People always talk a great deal about the cook," pleaded Sophy. "Mr. -and Mrs. Brownlow are always talking about the cook—and the Rector -talks about his cook, too—not always very kindly, though."</p> - -<p>"No, it's a shame—and I don't believe it'll happen."</p> - -<p>"Yes, it will. Mrs. Brownlow settled it to-day."</p> - -<p>"There are other people in the world besides Mrs. Brownlow."</p> - -<p>Sophy was not exactly surprised at this dictum, but evidently it gave -her thought. Her long-delayed "Yes" showed that as plainly as her "Oh" -had, a little while before, marked her appreciation of the social -limits of "keeping company." "But she can settle it all the same," she -persisted.</p> - -<p>"For the time she can," Julia admitted. "Oh, I wonder what'll be my -first part, Tots!" She threw her pretty head back on the grass, closing -her eyes; a smile of radiant anticipation hovered about her lips. The -little girl rose and stood looking at her friend—the friend of whom she -was so proud.</p> - -<p>"You'll look very, very pretty," she said, with sober gravity.</p> - -<p>Julia's smile broadened, but her lips remained shut. Sophy looked at her -for a moment longer, and, without formal farewell, resumed her progress -down the avenue. It was hard on tea-time, and Mrs. James was a stickler -for punctuality.</p> - -<p>Yet Sophy's march was interrupted once more. A tall young man sat -swinging his legs on the gate that led from the avenue into the road. -The sturdy boy who had run home in terror on the night Enoch Grouch died -had grown into a tall, good-looking young fellow; he was clad in what is -nowadays called a "blazer" and check-trousers, and smoked a large -meerschaum pipe. His expression was gloomy; the gate was shut—and he -was on the top of it. Sophy approached him with some signs of -nervousness. When he saw her, he glared at her moodily.</p> - -<p>"You can't come through," he said, firmly.</p> - -<p>"Please, Mr. Basil, I must, I shall be late for tea."</p> - -<p>"I won't let you through. There!"</p> - -<p>Sophy looked despairful. "May I climb over?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Basil, firmly; but a smile began to twitch about his lips.</p> - -<p>Quick now, as ever, to see the joint in a man's armor, Sophy smiled too.</p> - -<p>"If you'd let me through, I'd give you a kiss," she said, offering the -only thing she had to give in all the world.</p> - -<p>"You would, would you? But I hate kisses. In fact, I hate girls all -round—big and little."</p> - -<p>"You don't hate Julia, do you?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, worst of all."</p> - -<p>"Oh!" said Sophy—once more the recording, registering "Oh!"—because -Julia had given quite another impression, and Sophy sought to reconcile -these opposites.</p> - -<p>The young man jumped down from the gate, with a healthy laugh at himself -and at her, caught her up in his arms, and gave her a smacking kiss.</p> - -<p>"That's toll," he said. "Now you can go through, missy."</p> - -<p>"Thank you, Mr. Basil. It's not very hard to get through, is it?"</p> - -<p>He set her down with a laugh, a laugh with a note of surprise in it; her -last words had sounded odd from a child. But Sophy's eyes were quite -grave; she was probably recording the practical value of a kiss.</p> - -<p>"You shall tell me whether you think the same about that in a few years' -time," he said, laughing again.</p> - -<p>"When I'm grown up?" she asked, with a slow, puzzled smile.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps," said he, assuming gravity anew.</p> - -<p>"And cook?" she asked, with a curiously interrogative air—anxious -apparently to see what he, in his turn, would think of her destiny.</p> - -<p>"Cook? You're going to be a cook?"</p> - -<p>"The cook," she amended. "The cook at the Hall."</p> - -<p>"I'll come and eat your dinners." He laughed, yet looked a trifle -compassionate. Sophy's quick eyes tracked his feelings.</p> - -<p>"You don't think it's nice to be a cook, either?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, splendid! The cook's a sort of queen," said he.</p> - -<p>"The cook a sort of queen? Is she?" Sophy's eyes were profoundly -thoughtful.</p> - -<p>"And I should be very proud to kiss a queen—a sort of queen. Because I -shall be only a poor sawbones."</p> - -<p>"Sawbones?"</p> - -<p>"A surgeon—a doctor, you know—with a red lamp, like Dr. Seaton at -Brentwood."</p> - -<p>She looked at him for a moment. "Are you really going away?" she asked, -abruptly.</p> - -<p>"Yes, for a bit—to-morrow."</p> - -<p>Sophy's manner expanded into a calm graciousness. "I'm very sorry," she -said.</p> - -<p>"Thank you."</p> - -<p>"You amuse me."</p> - -<p>"The deuce I do!" laughed Basil Williamson.</p> - -<p>She raised her eyes slowly to his. "You'll be friends, anyhow, won't -you?"</p> - -<p>"To cook or queen," he said—and heartiness shone through his raillery.</p> - -<p>Sophy nodded her head gravely, sealing the bargain. A bargain it was.</p> - -<p>"Now I must go and have tea, and then say my catechism," said she.</p> - -<p>The young fellow—his thoughts were sad—wanted the child to linger.</p> - -<p>"Learning your catechism? Where have you got to?"</p> - -<p>"I've got to say my 'Duty towards my Neighbor' to Mrs. James after tea."</p> - -<p>"Your 'Duty towards your Neighbor'—that's rather difficult, isn't it?"</p> - -<p>"It's very long," said Sophy, resignedly.</p> - -<p>"Do you know it?"</p> - -<p>"I think so. Oh, Mr. Basil, would you mind hearing me? Because if I can -say it to you, I can say it to her, you know."</p> - -<p>"All right, fire away."</p> - -<p>A sudden doubt smote Sophy. "But do you know it yourself?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes, rather, I know it."</p> - -<p>She would not take his word. "Then you say the first half, and I'll say -the second."</p> - -<p>He humored her—it was hard not to—she looked so small and seemed so -capable. He began—and tripped for a moment over "'To love, honor, and -succor my father and mother.'" The child had no chance there. But -Sophy's eyes were calm. He ended, "'teachers, spiritual pastors, and -masters.' Now go on," he said.</p> - -<p>"'To order myself lowly and reverently to all my betters; to hurt nobody -by word nor deed; to be true and just in all my dealing; to bear no -malice nor hatred in my heart; to keep my hands from picking and -stealing, and my tongue from evil-speaking, lying, and slandering; to -keep my body in temperance, soberness, and chastity [the young man -smiled for an instant—that sounded pathetic]; not to covet nor desire -other men's goods, but to learn and labor truly to get mine own living -and to do my duty in that state of life unto which it has pleased God to -call me.'"</p> - -<p>"Wrong!" said Basil. "Go down two!"</p> - -<p>"Wrong?" she cried, indignantly disbelieving.</p> - -<p>"Wrong!"</p> - -<p>"It's not! That's what Mrs. James taught me."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps—it's not in the prayer-book. Go and look."</p> - -<p>"You tell me first!"</p> - -<p>"'And to do my duty in that state of life unto which it shall please God -to call me.'" His eyes were set on her with an amused interest.</p> - -<p>She stood silent for a moment. "Sure?" she asked then.</p> - -<p>"Positive," said he.</p> - -<p>"Oh!" said Sophy, for the third time. She stood there a moment longer. -Then she smiled at him. "I shall go and look. Good-bye."</p> - -<p>Basil broke into a laugh. "Good-bye, missy," he said. "You'll find I'm -right."</p> - -<p>"If I do, I'll tell you," she answered him, generously, as she turned -away.</p> - -<p>His smile lasted while he watched her. When she was gone his grievance -revived, his gloom returned. He trudged home with never a glance back at -the avenue where Julia was. Yet even now the thought of the child -crossed his mind; that funny mark of hers had turned redder when he -corrected her rendering of the catechism.</p> - -<p>Sophy walked into Mrs. James's kitchen. "Please may I read through my -'Duty' before I say it?" she asked.</p> - -<p>Permission accorded with some surprise—for hitherto the teaching had -been by word of mouth—she got the prayer-book down from its shelf and -conned her lesson. After tea she repeated it correctly. Mrs. James -noticed no difference.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="IIIA" id="IIIA"></a>III</h2> - -<h3>BEAUTIFUL JULIA—AND MY LORD</h3> - - -<p>"It seemed somehow impossible, me going to be cook there all my days." -So writes Sophy at a later date in regard to her life at Morpingham -Hall. To many of us in our youth it has seemed impossible that we should -pass all our days in the humdrum occupations and the mediocre positions -in which we have in fact spent them. Young ambitions are chronicled only -when they have been fulfilled—unless where a born autobiographer makes -fame out of his failures. But Sophy had a double portion of original -restlessness—this much the records of Morpingham years, scanty as they -are, render plain. Circumstances made much play with her, but she was -never merely the sport of chance or of circumstances. She was always -waiting, even always expecting, ready to take her chance, with arm -out-stretched to seize Occasion by the forelock. She co-operated eagerly -with Fate and made herself a partner with Opportunity, and she was quick -to blame the other members of the firm for any lack of activity or -forwardness. "You can't catch the train unless you're at the -station—and take care your watch isn't slow," she writes somewhere in -the diary. The moral of the reflection is as obvious as its form; it is -obvious, too, that a traveller so scrupulous to be in time would suffer -proportionate annoyance if the train were late.</p> - -<p>The immediate result of this disposition of hers was unhappy, and it is -not hard to sympathize with the feelings of the Brownlows. Their -benevolence was ample, but it was not unconscious; their benefits, which -were very great, appeared to them exhaustive, not only above what Sophy -might expect, but also beyond what she could imagine. They had picked -her up from the road-side and set her on the way to that sort of kingdom -with the prospect of which Basil Williamson had tried to console her. -The Squire was an estimable man, but one of small mind; he moved among -the little—the contented lord of a pin-point of the earth. Mrs. -Brownlow was a profoundly pious woman, to whom content was a high duty, -to be won by the performance of other duties. If the Squire detected in -the girl signs of ingratitude to himself, his wife laid equal blame on a -rebellion against Heaven. Sophy knew—if not then, yet on looking -back—what they felt; her references to them are charged with a remorse -whose playful expression (obstinately touched with scorn as it is) does -not hide its sincerity. She soon perceived, anyhow, that she was getting -a bad character; she, the cook <i>in posse</i>, was at open war with Mrs. -Smilker, the cook <i>in esse</i>; though, to be sure, "Smilker" might have -done something to reconcile her to "Grouch!"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Brownlow naturally ranged herself on the side of constituted -authority, of the superior rank in the domestic hierarchy. Moreover, it -is likely that Mrs. Smilker was right in nine cases out of ten, at all -events; Sophy recognized that probability in after-life; none the less, -she allows herself more than once to speak of "that beast of a Smilker." -Mere rectitude as such never appealed to her; that comes out in another -rather instructive comment, which she makes on Mrs. Brownlow herself, -"Me being what I was, and she what she was, though I was grateful to -her, and always shall be, I couldn't love her; and what hit me hardest -was that she didn't wonder at it, and, in my opinion, wasn't very sorry -either—not in her heart, you know. Me not loving her made what she was -doing for me all the finer, you see."</p> - -<p>Perhaps these flashes of insight should not be turned on our -benefactors, but the extract serves to show another side of Sophy—one -which in fairness to her must not be ignored. Not only was restlessness -unsatisfied, and young ambitions starved; the emotions were not fed -either, or at least were presented with a diet too homely for Sophy's -taste. For the greater part of this time she had no friends outside the -Hall to turn to. Julia Robins was pursuing her training in London, and, -later, her profession in the country. Basil Williamson, who "amused" -her, was at Cambridge, and afterwards at his hospital; a glimpse of him -she may have caught now and then, but they had no further talk. Very -probably he sought no opportunity; Sophy had passed from the infants' -school to the scullery; she had grown from a child into a big girl. If -prudent Basil kept these transformations in view, none can blame him—he -was the son of the Rector of the parish. So, when bidden to the Hall, he -ate the potatoes Sophy had peeled, but recked no more of the hand that -peeled them. In the main the child was, no doubt, a solitary creature.</p> - -<p>So much is what scientific men and historians call "reconstruction"—a -hazardous process—at least when you are dealing with human beings. It -has been kept within the strict limits of legitimate inference, and -accordingly yields meagre results. The return of Julia Robins enables us -to put many more of the stones—or bones, or whatever they may be -called—in their appropriate places.</p> - -<p>It is the summer of 1865—and Julia is very gorgeous. Three years had -passed over her head; her training had been completed a twelvemonth -before, and she had been on her first tour. She had come home "to -rest"—and to look out for a new engagement. She wore a blue hat with a -white feather, a blue skirt, and a red "Garibaldi" shirt; her fair hair -was dressed in the latest fashion. The sensation she made in Morpingham -needs no record. But her head was not turned; nobody was ever less of a -snob than Julia Robins, no friendship ever more independent of the ups -and downs of life, on one side or the other, than that which united her -and Sophy Grouch. She opened communications with the Hall scullery -immediately. And—"Sophy was as much of a darling as ever"—is her -warm-hearted verdict.</p> - -<p>The Hall was not accessible to Julia, nor Woodbine Lodge to Mrs. -Brownlow's little cook-girl. But the Squire's coachman had been at the -station when Julia's train came in: her arrival would be known in the -Hall kitchen, if not up-stairs. On the morrow she went into the avenue -of old elms about twelve o'clock, conjecturing that her friend might -have a few free moments about that hour—an oasis between the labors of -the morning and the claims of luncheon. Standing there under the trees -in all her finery—not very expensive finery, no doubt, yet fresh and -indisputably gay—she called her old mocking challenge—"Sophy Grouch! -Sophy Grouch!"</p> - -<p>Sophy was watching. Her head rose from the other side of the ditch. She -was down in a moment, up again, and in her friend's arms. "It's like a -puff of fresh air," she whispered, as she kissed her, and then, drawing -away, looked her over. Sophy was tall beyond her years, and her head was -nearly on a level with Julia's. She was in her short print gown, with -her kitchen apron on; her sleeves rolled up, her face red from the fire, -her hands too, no doubt, red from washing vegetables and dishes. "She -looked like Cinderella in the first act of a pantomime," is Miss -Robins's professional comment—colored, perhaps, also by subsequent -events.</p> - -<p>"You're beautiful!" cried Sophy. "Oh, that shirt—I love red!" And so on -for some time, no doubt. "Tell me about it; tell me everything about -it," she urged. "It's the next best thing, you know."</p> - -<p>Miss Robins recounted her adventures: they would not seem very dazzling -at this distance. Sophy heard them with ardent eyes; they availed to -color the mark on her cheek to a rosy tint. "That's being alive," she -said, with a deep-drawn sigh.</p> - -<p>Julia patted her hand consolingly. "But I'm twenty!" she reminded her -friend. "Think how young you are!"</p> - -<p>"Young or old's much the same in the kitchen," Sophy grumbled.</p> - -<p>Linking arms, they walked up the avenue. The Rector was approaching from -the church. Sophy tried to draw her arm away. Julia held it tight. The -Rector came up, lifted his hat—and, maybe, his brows. But he stopped -and said a few pleasant words to Julia. He had never pretended to -approve of this stage career, but Julia had now passed beyond his -jurisdiction. He was courteous to her as to any lady. Official position -betrayed itself only as he was taking leave—and only in regard to Sophy -Grouch.</p> - -<p>"Ah, you keep up old friendships," he said—with a rather forced -approval. "Please don't unsettle the little one's mind, though. She has -to work—haven't you, Sophy? Good-bye, Miss Robins."</p> - -<p>Sophy's mark was ruddy indeed as the Rector went on his blameless way, -and Julia was squeezing her friend's arm very hard. But Sophy said -nothing, except to murmur—just once—"The little one!" Julia smiled at -the tone.</p> - -<p>They turned and walked back towards the road. Now silence reigned; Julia -was understanding, pitying, wondering whether a little reasonable -remonstrance would be accepted by her fiery and very unreasonable little -friend; scullery-maids must not arraign social institutions nor quarrel -with the way of the world. But she decided to say nothing—the mark -still glowed. It was to glow more before that day was out.</p> - -<p>They came near to the gates. Julia felt a sudden pressure on her arm.</p> - -<p>"Look!" whispered Sophy, her eyes lighting up again in interest.</p> - -<p>A young man rode up the approach to the Hall lodge. His mare was a -beauty; he sat her well. He was perfectly dressed for the exercise. His -features were clear-cut and handsome. There was as fine an air of -breeding about him as about the splendid Newfoundland dog which ran -behind him.</p> - -<p>Julia looked as she was bidden. "He's handsome," she said. "Why—" she -laughed low—"I believe I know who it is—I think I've seen him -somewhere."</p> - -<p>"Have you?" Sophy's question was breathless.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I know! When we were at York! He was one of the officers there; he -was in a box. Sophy, it's the Earl of Dunstanbury!"</p> - -<p>Sophy did not speak. She looked. The young man—he could be hardly more -than twenty—came on. Sophy suddenly hid behind her friend ("To save my -pride, not her own," generous Julia explains—Sophy herself advances no -such excuse), but she could see. She saw the rider's eye rest on Julia; -did it rest in recognition? It almost seemed so; yet there was doubt. -Julia blushed, but she forbore from smiling or from seeking to rouse his -memory. Yet she was proud if he remembered her face from across the -footlights. The young man, too—being but a young man—blushed a little -as he gave the pretty girl by the gate such a glance as discreetly told -her that he was of the same mind as herself about her looks. These -silent interchanges of opinion on such matters are pleasant diversions -as one plods the highway.</p> - -<p>He was gone. Julia sighed in satisfied vanity. Sophy awoke to stern -realities.</p> - -<p>"Gracious!" she cried. "He must have come to lunch! They'll want a -salad! You'll be here to-morrow—do!" And she was off, up the drive, and -round to her own regions at the back of the house.</p> - -<p>"I believe his Lordship did remember my face," thought Julia as she -wandered back to Woodbine Cottage.</p> - -<p>But Sophy washed lettuces in her scullery—which, save for its base -purposes, was a pleasant, airy apartment, looking out on a path that ran -between yew hedges and led round from the lawn to the offices of the -house. Diligently she washed, as Mrs. Smilker had taught her (whether -rightly or not is nothing to the purpose here), but how many miles away -was her mind? So far away from lettuces that it seemed in no way strange -to look up and see Lord Dunstanbury and his dog on the path outside the -window at which she had been performing her task. He began hastily:</p> - -<p>"Oh, I say, I've been seeing my mare get her feed, and—er—do you think -you could be so good as to find a bone and some water for Lorenzo?"</p> - -<p>"Lorenzo?" she said.</p> - -<p>"My dog, you know." He pointed to the handsome beast, which wagged an -expectant tail.</p> - -<p>"Why do you call him that?"</p> - -<p>Dunstanbury smiled. "Because he's magnificent. I dare say you never -heard of Lorenzo the Magnificent?"</p> - -<p>"No. Who was he?"</p> - -<p>"A Duke—Duke of Florence—in Italy." He had begun to watch her face, -and seemed not impatient for the bone.</p> - -<p>"Florence? Italy?" The lettuce dropped from her hands; she wiped her -hands slowly on her apron.</p> - -<p>"Do you think you could get me one?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I'll get it."</p> - -<p>She went to the back of the room and chose a bone.</p> - -<p>"Will this do?" she asked, holding it out through the window.</p> - -<p>"Too much meat."</p> - -<p>"Oh!" She went and got another. "This one all right?"</p> - -<p>"Capital! Do you mind if I stay and see him eat it?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Here, Lorenzo! And thank the lady!"</p> - -<p>Lorenzo directed three sharp barks at Sophy and fell to. Sophy filled -and brought out a bowl of water. Lord Dunstanbury had lighted a cigar. -But he was watching Sophy. A new light broke on him suddenly.</p> - -<p>"I say, were you the other girl behind the gate?"</p> - -<p>"I didn't mean you to see me."</p> - -<p>"I only caught a glimpse of you. I remember your friend, though."</p> - -<p>"She remembered you, too."</p> - -<p>"I don't know her name, though."</p> - -<p>"Julia Robins."</p> - -<p>"Ah, yes—is it? He's about polished off that bone, hasn't he? Is -she—er—a great friend of yours?"</p> - -<p>His manner was perhaps a little at fault; the slightest note of chaff -had crept into it; and the slightest was enough to put Sophy's quills -up.</p> - -<p>"Why not?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"Why not? Every reason why she should be," he answered with his lips. -His eyes answered more, but he refrained his tongue. He was scrupulously -a gentleman—more so perhaps than, had sexes and places been reversed, -Sophy herself would have been. But his eyes told her. "Only," he went -on, "if so, why did you hide?"</p> - -<p>That bit of chaff did not anger Sophy. But it went home to a different -purpose—far deeper, far truer home than the young man had meant. Not -the mark only reddened—even the cheeks flushed. She said no word. With -a fling-out of her arms—a gesture strangely, prophetically foreign as -it seemed to him in after-days—she exhibited herself—the print frock, -the soiled apron, the bare arms, red hands, the ugly knot of her hair, -the scrap of cap she wore. For a moment her lips quivered, while the -mark—the Red Star of future days and future fame—grew redder still.</p> - -<p>The only sound was of Lorenzo's worrying the last tough scrap of bone. -The lad, gentleman as he was, was good flesh and blood, too—and the -blood was moving. He felt a little tightness in his throat; he was new -to it. New, too, was Sophy Grouch to what his eyes said to her, but she -took it with head erect and a glance steadily levelled at his.</p> - -<p>"Yes," he said. "But I shouldn't have looked at any of that—and I -shouldn't have looked at her either."</p> - -<p>Brightly the mark glowed; subtly the eyes glowed. There was silence -again.</p> - -<p>Almost a start marked Dunstanbury's awakening. "Come, Lorenzo!" he -cried; he raised his hat and turned away, followed by his dog, Lorenzo -the Magnificent.</p> - -<p>Sophy took up her lettuces and carried them into the kitchen.</p> - -<p>"There you are, at last! And what's put you in a temper now?" asked Mrs. -Smilker. She had learned the signs of the mark.</p> - -<p>Sophy smiled. "It's not temper this time, Mrs. Smilker. I—I'm very -happy to-day," she said. "Oh, I do hope the salad will be good!"</p> - -<p>For he who was to eat of the salad—had he not forgotten print frock and -soiled apron, bare arms, red hands, ugly knot, and execrable cap? He -would not have looked at them—no, nor at beautiful many-tinted Julia -Robins in her pride! He had forgotten all these to look at the stained -cheek and the eyes of subtle glow. She had glanced in the mirror of love -and sipped from the cup of power.</p> - -<p>Such was her first meeting with Lord Dunstanbury. If it were ever -forgotten, it was not Dunstanbury who forgot.</p> - -<p>The day had wrought much in her eyes; it had wrought more than she -dreamed of. Her foot was near the ladder now, though she could not yet -see the lowest rung.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="IVA" id="IVA"></a>IV</h2> - -<h3>FATE'S WAY—OR LADY MEG'S</h3> - - -<p>The scene is at Hazleby, Lord Dunstanbury's Essex seat. His lordship is -striking the top off his breakfast egg.</p> - -<p>"I say, Cousin Meg, old Brownlow's got a deuced pretty kitchen-maid."</p> - -<p>"There you go! There you go! Just like your father, and your -grandfather, and all of them! If the English people had any spirit, -they'd have swept the Dunstanburys and all the wicked Whig gang into the -sea long ago."</p> - -<p>"Before you could turn round they'd have bought it up, enclosed it, and -won an election by opening it to ships at a small fee on Sundays," said -Mr. Pindar.</p> - -<p>"Why are Whigs worse than Tories?" inquired Mr. Pikes, with an air of -patient inquiry.</p> - -<p>"The will of Heaven, I suppose," sniffed Lady Margaret Duddington.</p> - -<p>"To display Divine Omnipotence in that line," suggested Mr. Pindar.</p> - -<p>"A deuced pretty girl!" said Dunstanbury, in reflective tones. He was -doing his best to reproduce the impression he had received at Morpingham -Hall, but obviously with no great success.</p> - -<p>"On some pretext, frivolous though it be, let us drive over and see this -miracle," Pindar suggested.</p> - -<p>"How could we better employ this last day of our visit? You'll drive us -over, Percival?"</p> - -<p>"No, thank you, Mr. Pindar," said the young man, resolute in wisdom. -"I'll send you over, if you like."</p> - -<p>"I'll come with you," said Pikes. "But how account for ourselves? Old -Brownlow is unknown to us."</p> - -<p>"If Percival had been going, I'd have had nothing to do with it, but I -don't mind taking you two old sillies," said Lady Margaret. "I wanted to -pay a call on Elizabeth Brownlow anyhow. We were at school together -once. But I won't guarantee you a sight of the kitchen-maid."</p> - -<p>"It's a pretty drive—for this part of the country," observed -Dunstanbury.</p> - -<p>"It may well become your favorite road," smiled Mr. Pindar, -benevolently.</p> - -<p>"And since Lady Meg goes with us, it's already ours," added Mr. Pikes, -gallantly.</p> - -<p>So they used to go on—for hours at a time, as Dunstanbury has -declared—both at Hazleby when they were there, and at Lady Meg's house -in Berkeley Square, where they almost always were. They were pleased to -consider themselves politicians—Pikes a Whig, twenty years behind date, -Pindar a Tory, two hundred. It was all an affectation—assumed for the -purpose, but with the very doubtful result of amusing Lady Meg. To -Dunstanbury the two old waifs—for waifs of the sea of society they -were, for all that each had a sufficient income to his name and a -reputable life behind him—were sheerly tiresome—and there seems little -ground to differ from his opinion. But they were old family friends, and -he endured with his usual graciousness.</p> - -<p>Their patroness—they would hardly have gibed at the word—was a more -notable person. Lady Meg—the world generally, and Sophy always, spoke -of her by that style, and we may take the same liberty—was only child -of the great Earl of Dunstanbury. The title and estates passed to his -grandnephew, but half a million or so of money came to her. She took the -money, but vowed, with an outspoken thankfulness, that from the -Dunstanbury family she had taken nothing else. If the boast were true, -there must have been a powerful strain of eccentricity and perversity -derived from elsewhere. All the Dunstanbury blood was Whig; Lady Meg -counted the country ruined in 1688. Even Dunstanbury had been a man of -sensibility; Lady Meg declared war on emotion—especially on the -greatest of all emotions. The Dunstanbury attitude in thought had always -been free, even tending to the materialistic; Lady Meg would believe in -anything—so long as she couldn't see it. A queer woman, choosing to go -to war with the world and infinitely enjoying the gratuitous conflict -which she had herself provoked! With half a million pounds and the -Duddington blood one can afford these recondite luxuries—and to have a -Pindar and a Pikes before whom to exhibit their rare flavor. She was -aggressive, capricious, hard to live with. Fancies instead of purposes, -whims instead of interests, and not, as it seems, much affection for -anybody—she makes rather a melancholy picture; but in her time she made -a bit of a figure, too.</p> - -<p>The air of the household was stormy that day at Morpingham—an incentive -to the expedition, not a deterrent, for Lady Meg, had she known it. -Sophy was in sore disgrace—accused, tried, and convicted of -insubordination and unseemly demeanor towards Mrs. Smilker. The truth -seems to be that this good woman (Rest her soul! She has a neat -tombstone in Morpingham church-yard) loved—like many another good -creature—good ale sometimes a trifle too well; and the orders she gave -when ale had been plentiful did not always consort with her less-mellow -injunctions. In no vulgar directness, but with a sarcasm which Mrs. -Smilker felt without understanding, Sophy would point out these -inconsistencies. Angered and humiliated, fearful too, perhaps, that her -subordinate would let the secret out, Mrs. Smilker made haste to have -the first word with the powers; and against the word of the cook the -word of the cook-maid weighed as naught. After smaller troubles of this -origin there had come a sort of crisis to-day. The longest of long -lectures had been read to Sophy by mistress and repeated (slightly -condensed) by master; then she was sent away to think it over; an abject -apology to outraged Mrs. Smilker must be forthcoming, or banishment was -the decree. Informed of this ultimatum, Sophy went out and hung about -the avenue, hoping for Julia to appear. Soon Julia came and heard the -story. She had indignation in readiness, and—what was more to the -purpose—a plan. Soon Sophy's eyes grew bright.</p> - -<p>Into this storm-tossed house came Lady Meg and her spaniels. This unkind -name, derived at first from the size and shape of Mr. Pindar's ears -(they were large, and hung over at the top), had been stretched to -include Mr. Pikes also, with small loss of propriety. Both gentlemen -were low of stature, plump of figure, hairy on the face; both followed -obediently at the heels of commanding Lady Meg. The amenities of the -luncheon-table opened hearts. Very soon the tale of Sophy's iniquities -was revealed; incidentally, and unavoidably if Sophy's heinous fault -were to appear in its true measure, the tally of the Brownlows' -benevolence was reckoned. But Mrs. Brownlow won small comfort from Lady -Meg: she got a stiff touch of the truth.</p> - -<p>"Ran in and out of the drawing-room!" she said. "Did she? The truth is, -Lizzie, you've spoiled her, and now you're angry with her for being -spoiled."</p> - -<p>"What is she now, Mrs. Brownlow?" asked Pindar, with a sly intention. -Was this Percival's deuced pretty girl?</p> - -<p>"She works in the kitchen, Mr. Pindar."</p> - -<p>"The girl!" his eyes signalled to Mr. Pikes. "Let Lady Meg see her," he -urged, insinuatingly. "She has a wonderful way with girls."</p> - -<p>"I don't want to see her; and I know your game, Pindar," said Lady Meg.</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid she must go," sighed Mrs. Brownlow. Her husband said, more -robustly, that such an event would be a good riddance—a saying -repeated, with the rest of the conversation, by the butler (one William -Byles, still living) to the gratified ears of Mrs. Smilker in the -kitchen.</p> - -<p>"But I'm not easy about her future. She's an odd child, and looks it."</p> - -<p>"Pretty?" This from Mr. Pindar.</p> - -<p>"Well, I don't know. Striking-looking, you'd rather say, perhaps, Mr. -Pindar."</p> - -<p>"Let her go her own way. We've talked quite enough about her." Lady Meg -sounded decisive—and not a little bored.</p> - -<p>"And then"—Mrs. Brownlow made bold to go on for a moment—"such a funny -mark! Many people wouldn't like it, I'm sure."</p> - -<p>Lady Meg turned sharply on her. "Mark? What do you mean? What mark?"</p> - -<p>"A mark on her face, you know. A round, red mark—"</p> - -<p>"Big as a threepenny bit, pretty nearly," said the Squire.</p> - -<p>"Where?"</p> - -<p>"On her cheek."</p> - -<p>"Where is the girl?" asked Lady Meg. Her whole demeanor had changed, her -bored air had vanished. "She seemed fair excited," Mr. Byles reports. -Then she turned to the said Byles: "Find out where that girl is, and let -me know. Don't tell her anything about it. I'll go to her."</p> - -<p>"But let me send for her—" began the Squire, courteously.</p> - -<p>"No, give me my own way. I don't want her frightened."</p> - -<p>The Squire gave the orders she desired, and the last Mr. Byles heard as -he left the room was from Lady Meg:</p> - -<p>"Marks like that always mean something—eh, Pindar?"</p> - -<p>No doubt Mr. Pindar agreed, but his reply is lost.</p> - -<p>The girls in the avenue had made their plan. Sophy would not bow her -head to Mrs. Smilker, nor longer eat the bread of benevolence embittered -by servitude. She would go with Julia; she, too, would tread the -boards—if only she could get her feet on them; and when did any girl -seriously doubt her ability to do that? The pair were gay and laughing, -when suddenly through the gate came Lady Meg and the spaniels—Lady Meg -ahead as usual, and with a purposeful air.</p> - -<p>"Who are they?" cried Sophy.</p> - -<p>Hazleby is but twelve miles from Morpingham. Julia had been over to see -the big house, and had sighted Lady Meg in the garden.</p> - -<p>"It's Lady Margaret Duddington," she whispered, rather in a fright. -There was time for no more. Lady Meg was upon them. Sophy was identified -by her dress, and, to Lady Meg's devouring eyes, by the mark.</p> - -<p>"You're the girl who's been behaving so badly?" she said.</p> - -<p>Seeing no profit in arguing the merits, Sophy answered "Yes."</p> - -<p>At this point Julia observed one old gentleman nudge the other and -whisper something; it is morally certain that Pindar whispered to Pikes: -"Percival's girl!"</p> - -<p>"You seem to like your own way. What are you going to do? Say you're -sorry?"</p> - -<p>"No. I'm not sorry. I'm going away."</p> - -<p>"Come here, girl, let me look at you."</p> - -<p>Sophy obeyed, walking up to Lady Meg and fixing her eyes on her face. -She was interested, not frightened, as it seemed. Lady Meg looked long -at her.</p> - -<p>"Going away? Where to?"</p> - -<p>Julia spoke up. "She's coming with me, please, Lady Margaret." Julia, it -would seem, was a little frightened.</p> - -<p>"Who are you?"</p> - -<p>"Julia Robins. My mother lives there." She pointed to Woodbine Cottage. -"I—I'm on the stage—"</p> - -<p>"Lord help you!" remarked Lady Meg, disconcertingly.</p> - -<p>"Not at all!" protested Julia, her meaning plain, her expression of it -faulty. "And I—I'm going to help her to—to get an engagement. We're -friends."</p> - -<p>"What's she going to do with that on the stage?" Lady Meg's forefinger -almost touched the mark.</p> - -<p>"Oh, that's all right, Lady Margaret. Just a little cold cream and -powder—"</p> - -<p>"Nasty stuff!" said Lady Meg.</p> - -<p>A pause followed, Lady Meg still studying Sophy's face. Then, without -turning round, she made a remark obviously addressed to the gentlemen -behind her:</p> - -<p>"I expect this is Percival's young person."</p> - -<p>"Without a doubt," said Pikes.</p> - -<p>"And Percival was right about her, too," said Pindar.</p> - -<p>"Think so? I ain't sure yet," said Lady Meg. "And at any rate I don't -care twopence about that. But—" A long pause marked a renewed scrutiny. -"Your name's Sophy, isn't it?"</p> - -<p>"Yes." Sophy hesitated, then forced out the words: "Sophy Grouch."</p> - -<p>"Grouch?"</p> - -<p>"I said Grouch."</p> - -<p>"Humph! Well, Sophy, don't go on the stage. It's a poor affair, the -stage, begging Miss Julia's pardon—I'm sure she'll do admirably at it. -But a poor affair it is. There's not much to be said for the real -thing—but it's a deal better than the stage, Sophy."</p> - -<p>"The real thing?" Julia saw Sophy's eyes grow thoughtful.</p> - -<p>"The world—places—London—Paris—men and women—Lord help them! Come -with me, and I'll show you all that."</p> - -<p>"What shall I do if I come with you?"</p> - -<p>"Do? Eat and drink, and waste time and money, like the rest of us. Eh, -Pindar?"</p> - -<p>"Of course," said Mr. Pindar, with a placid smile.</p> - -<p>"I sha'n't be a—a servant again?"</p> - -<p>"Everybody in my house is a slave, I'm told, but you won't be more of a -slave than the rest."</p> - -<p>"Will you have me taught?"</p> - -<p>Lady Meg looked hard at her. For the first time she smiled, rather -grimly. "Yes, I'll have you taught, and I'll show you the Queen of -England, and, if you behave yourself, the Emperor of the French—Lord -help him!"</p> - -<p>"Not unless she behaves herself!" murmured Mr. Pindar.</p> - -<p>"Hold your tongue, Pindar! Now, then, what do you say? No, wait a -minute; I want you to understand it properly." She became silent for a -moment. Julia was thinking her a very rude woman; but, since Mr. Pindar -did not mind, who need?</p> - -<p>Lady Meg resumed. "I won't make an obligation of you—I mean, I won't be -bound to you; and you sha'n't be bound to me. You'll stay with me as -long as you like, or as long as I like, as the case may be. If you want -to go, put your visiting-card—yes, you'll have one—in an envelope and -send it to me. And if I want you to go, I'll put a hundred-pound note in -an envelope and send it to you—upon which you'll go, and no reasons -given! Is it agreed?"</p> - -<p>"It sounds all right," said Sophy.</p> - -<p>"Did you always have that mark on your cheek?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, always. Father told me so."</p> - -<p>"Well, will you come?"</p> - -<p>Sophy was torn. The stage was very attractive, and the love she had for -Julia Robins held her as though by a cord. But was the stage a poor -thing? Was that mysterious "real thing" better? Though even of that this -strange woman spoke scornfully. Already there must have been some -underground channel of understanding between them; for Sophy knew that -Lady Meg was more than interested in her—that she was actually excited -about her; and Lady Meg, in her turn, knew that she played a good card -when she dangled before Sophy's eyes the Queen of England and the -Emperor of the French—though even then came that saving "Lord help -him!" to damp an over-ardent expectation.</p> - -<p>"Let me speak to Julia," said Sophy. Lady Meg nodded; the girls linked -arms and walked apart. Pindar came to Lady Meg's elbow.</p> - -<p>"Another whim!" said he, in a low voice. Pikes was looking round the -view with a kind of vacant contentment.</p> - -<p>"Yes," she said. His lips moved. "I know what you said. You said: 'You -old fool!' Pindar."</p> - -<p>"Never, on my life, my lady!" They seemed more friends now than -patroness and client. Few saw them thus, but Pindar told Dunstanbury, -and the old gentleman was no liar.</p> - -<p>"Give me one more!" she whispered, plainly excited. "That mark must mean -something. It may open a way."</p> - -<p>"For her?" he asked, smiling.</p> - -<p>"It must for her. It may for me."</p> - -<p>"A way where?"</p> - -<p>"To knowledge—knowledge of the unknown. They may speak through her!"</p> - -<p>"Lady Meg! Lady Meg! And if they don't, the hundred-pound note! It's -very cruel."</p> - -<p>"Who knows?—who knows, Pindar? Fate has her ways."</p> - -<p>He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "Not half as amusing as your -ladyship's!"</p> - -<p>Sophy, twenty yards off, flung her arms round Julia. The embrace was -long; it spoke farewell. Lady Meg's eyes brightened. "She's coming with -me," she said. Pindar shrugged his shoulders again and fell back to -heel. Sophy walked briskly up.</p> - -<p>"I'll come, my lady," she said.</p> - -<p>"Good. To-morrow afternoon—to London. Mrs. Brownlow has the address. -Good-bye." She turned abruptly on her heel and marched off, her retinue -following.</p> - -<p>Julia came to Sophy.</p> - -<p>"We can write," she said. "And she's right. You must be for the real -thing, Sophy!"</p> - -<p>"My dear, my dear!" murmured Sophy, half in tears. "Yes, we must write." -She drew back and stood erect. "It's all very dark," she said. "But I -like it. London—and Paris! On the Seine!" Old lessons came back with -new import now.</p> - -<p>"The Emperor of the French!" Julia mocked—with tears in her eyes.</p> - -<p>A sudden thought occurred to Sophy. "What did she mean by 'Percival's -young person'? Is his name Percival?"</p> - -<p>Julia gave a little cry. "Lord Dunstanbury's? Yes. You've seen him -again?"</p> - -<p>She drew out the story. It made the sorrow of parting half forgotten.</p> - -<p>"You owe this to him, then! How romantic!" was actress Julia's -conclusion—in part a true one, no doubt. But Sophy, looking deeper, -fingered the Red Star. She had tracked the magnet of Lady Meg's regard, -the point of her interest, the pivot of decision for that mind of -whims.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="VA" id="VA"></a>V</h2> - -<h3>THE VISION OF "SOMETHING BRIGHT"</h3> - - -<p>With that scene in the avenue of elm-trees at Morpingham there comes a -falling of the veil. Letters passed between Sophy and Julia Robins, but -they have not been preserved. The diary was not yet begun. Basil -Williamson did not move in the same world with Lady Meg and her -entourage: Dunstanbury was in Ireland, where his regiment was then -stationed. For the next twelve months there is only one glimpse of -Sophy—that a passing and accidental one, although not without its -significance as throwing a light on Lady Meg's adoption of Sophy (while -it lasted it amounted to that), and on the strange use to which she -hoped to be able to turn her <i>protégée</i>. The reference is, however, -tantalizingly vague just where explicitness would have been of curious -interest, though hardly of any real importance to a sensible mind.</p> - -<p>The reference occurs in a privately printed volume of reminiscences by -the late Captain Hans Fleming, R.N., a sailor of some distinction, but -better known as a naturalist. Writing in the winter of 1865-66 (he gives -no precise date), he describes in a letter a meeting with Lady -Meg—whom, it will be noticed, he calls "old Lady Meg," although at that -time she was but forty-nine. She had so early in life taken up an -attitude of resolute spinsterhood that there was a tendency to -exaggerate her years.</p> - -<p>"To-day in the park I met old Lady Meg Duddington. It was piercing cold, -but the carriage was drawn up under the trees. The poor spaniels on the -opposite seat were shivering! She stopped me and was, for her, very -gracious; she only 'Lord-helped-me' twice in the whole conversation. She -was full of her ghosts and spirits, her seers and witches. She has got -hold of an entirely new prophetess, a certain woman who calls herself -Madame Mantis and knows all the secrets of the future, both this side -the grave and the other. Beside Lady Meg sat a remarkably striking girl, -to whom she introduced me, but I didn't catch the name. I gathered that -this girl (who had an odd mark on one cheek, almost like a pale pink -wafer) was, in old Meg's mad mind, anyhow, mixed up with the -prophetess—as medium, or subject, or inspiration, or something of that -kind—I don't understand that nonsense, and don't want to. But when I -looked sceptical (and old Pindar chuckled—or it may have been his teeth -chattering with the cold), Meg nodded her head at the girl and said: -'She'll tell you a different tale some day: if you meet her in five -years' time, perhaps.' I don't know what the old lady meant; I suppose -the girl did, but she looked absolutely indifferent, and, indeed, bored. -One can't help being amused, but, seriously, it's rather sad for a man -who was brought up in the reverence of Lord Dunstanbury to see his only -daughter—a clever woman, too, naturally—devoting herself to such -childish stuff."</p> - -<p>Such is the passage; it is fair to add that most of the Captain's book -is of more general interest. As he implies, he had had a long -acquaintance with the Dunstanbury family, and took a particular interest -in anything that related to it. Nevertheless, what he says has its -place here; it fits in with and explains Lady Meg's excited and mystical -exclamation to Mr. Pindar at Morpingham, "They may speak through her!" -Apparently "they" had spoken—to what effect we cannot even conjecture, -unless an explanation be found in a letter of the Kravonian period in -which Sophy says to Julia: "You remember that saying of Mantis's when we -were in London—the one about how she saw something hanging in the air -over my head—something bright." That is all she says—and "something -bright" leaves the matter very vague. A sword—a crown—the nimbus of a -saint: imagination might play untrammelled. Still some prophecy was -made; Lady Meg built on it, and Sophy (for all her apparent -indifference) remembered it, and in after-days thought it worthy of -recall. That is as far as we can go; and with that passing glimpse, -Sophy Grouch (of course the mention of the wafer-like mark puts her -identity beyond question) passes out of sight for the time; indeed, as -Sophy Grouch, in the position in which we have seen her and in the name -under which we have known her, she passes out of sight forever.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2>PART II</h2> - -<h2>PARIS</h2> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="IB" id="IB"></a>I</h2> - -<h3>PHAROS, MANTIS, AND CO.</h3> - - -<p>Lady Meg left London for Paris towards the end of 1865 or the beginning -of 1866, but we hear nothing of her doings until the early summer of -1868. The veil lifts then (so far as it ever lifts from before the face -of the Paris period), and shows us the establishment in the Rue de -Grenelle. A queer picture it is in many ways; it gives reason to think -that the state of mind to which Lady Meg had now come is but mildly -described as eccentricity.</p> - -<p>The eminent Lord Dunstanbury, Lady Meg's father, had been one of that -set of English Whigs and Liberals who were much at home in Paris in the -days of the July Monarchy. Among his friends was a certain Marquis de -Savres, the head of an old French family of Royalist principles. This -gentleman had, however, accepted the throne of Louis Philippe and the -political principles and leadership of Guizot. Between him and Lord -Dunstanbury there arose a close intimacy, and Lady Meg as a girl had -often visited in the Rue de Grenelle. Changed as her views were, and -separated as she was from most of her father's coterie in Paris, -friendship and intercourse between her and the Savres family had never -dropped. The present head of that family was Casimir de Savres, a young -man of twenty-eight, an officer of cavalry. Being a bachelor, he -preferred to dwell in a small apartment on the other side of the river, -and the family house in the Rue de Grenelle stood empty. Under some -arrangement (presumably a business one, for Marquis de Savres was by no -means rich) Lady Meg occupied the first floor of the roomy old mansion. -Here she is found established; with her, besides three French servants -and an English coachman (she has for the time apparently shaken off the -spaniels), is Mademoiselle Sophie de Gruche, in whose favor Sophy Grouch -has effected an unobtrusive disappearance.</p> - -<p>This harmless, if somewhat absurd, transformation was carried out with a -futile elaboration, smacking of Lady Meg's sardonic perversity rather -than of Sophy's directer methods. Sophy would probably have claimed the -right to call herself what she pleased, and left the world to account -for her name in any way it pleased. Lady Meg must needs fit her up with -a story. She was the daughter of a Creole gentleman married to an -English wife. Her mother being early left a widow, Sophy had been -brought up entirely in England—hence her indifferent acquaintance with -French. If this excuse served a purpose at first, at any rate it soon -became unnecessary. Sophy's marked talent for languages (she -subsequently mastered Kravonian, a very difficult dialect, in the space -of a few months) made French a second native tongue to her within a -year. But the story was kept up. Perhaps it imposed on nobody; but -nobody was rude enough—or interested enough—to question it openly. -Sophy herself never refers to it; but she used the name from this time -forward on all occasions except when writing to Julia Robins, when she -continues to sign "Sophy" as before—a habit which lasts to the end, -notwithstanding other changes in her public or official style.</p> - -<p>The times were stirring, a prelude to the great storm which was so soon -to follow. Paris was full of men who in the next few years were to make -or lose fame, to rise with a bound or fall with a crash. Into such -society Lady Meg's name, rank, and parentage would have carried her, had -she cared to go; she could have shown Sophy the Emperor of the French at -close quarters instead of contenting herself with a literal fulfilment -of her promise by pointing him out as he drove in the streets. But Lady -Meg was rabid against the Empire; her "Lord help him!"—the habitual -expression of contempt on her lips—was never lacking for the Emperor. -Her political associates were the ladies of the Faubourg St.-Germain, -and there are vague indications that Lady Meg was very busy among them -and conceived herself to be engaged in intrigues of vital importance. -The cracks in the imposing Imperial structure were visible enough by -now, and every hostile party was on the lookout for its chance.</p> - -<p>As we all know, perhaps no chance, certainly no power to use a chance, -was given to Lady Meg's friends; and we need not repine that ignorance -spares us the trouble of dealing with their unfruitful hopes and -disappointed schemes. Still the intrigues, the gossip, and the Royalist -atmosphere were to Sophy in some sort an introduction to political -interests, and no doubt had an influence on her mind. So far as she ever -acquired political principles—the existence of such in her mind is, it -must be confessed, doubtful—they were the tenets which reigned in the -Rue de Grenelle and in the houses of Lady Meg's Royalist allies.</p> - -<p>So on one side of Lady Meg are the nobles and their noble ladies sulking -and scheming, and on the other—a bizarre contrast—her witch and her -wizard, Madame Mantis and Pharos. Where the carcass is, there will the -vultures be; should the carcass get up and walk, presumably the vultures -would wing an expectant way after it. Madame Mantis—the woman of the -prophecy about "something bright"—had followed Lady Meg to Paris, -scenting fresh prey. But a more ingenious and powerful scoundrel came on -the scene; in association with Mantis—probably very close and not -creditable association—is Pharos, <i>alias</i> Jean Coulin. In after-days, -under the Republic, this personage got himself into trouble, and was -tried at Lille for obtaining no less a sum than one hundred and fifty -thousand francs from a rich old Royalist lady who lived in the -neighborhood of the town. The rogue got his money under cover of a -vaticination that MacMahon would restore the monarchy—a nearer approach -to the real than he reached in his dealings with Lady Meg, but not, -probably, on that account any the more favorably viewed by his judges.</p> - -<p>The President's interrogation of the prisoner, ranging over his whole -life, tells us the bulk of what we know of him; but the earliest sketch -comes from Sophy herself, in one of the rare letters of this period -which have survived. "A dirty, scrubby fellow, with greasy hair and a -squint in his eye," she tells Julia Robins. "He wears a black cloak down -to his heels, and a gimcrack thing round his neck that he calls his -'periapt'—charm, I suppose he means. Says he can work spells with it; -and his precious partner Mantis <i>kisses it</i> (Italics are Sophy's) -whenever she meets him. Phew! I'd like to give them both a dusting! What -do you think? Pharos, as he calls himself, tells Lady Meg he can make -the dead speak to her; and she says that isn't it possible that, since -they've died themselves and know all about it, they may be able to tell -her how not to! Seeing how this suits his book, it isn't Pharos who's -going to say 'no,' though he tells her to make a will in case anything -happens before he's ready to 'establish communication'—and perhaps they -won't tell, after all, but he thinks they will! Now I come into the -game! Me being very sympathetic, they're to talk <i>through me</i> (Italics -again are Sophy's). Did you ever hear of such nonsense? I told Master -Pharos that I didn't know whether his ghosts would talk through me, but -I didn't need any of their help to pretty well see through him! But Lady -Meg's hot on it. I suppose it's what I'm here for, and I must let him -try—or pretend to. It's all one to me, and it pleases Lady Meg. Only he -and I have nothing else to do with each other! I'll see to that. To tell -you the truth, I don't like the look in his eye sometimes—and I don't -think Mrs. Mantis would either!"</p> - -<p>As a medium Sophy was a failure. She was antagonistic—purposely -antagonistic, said Jean Coulin, attempting to defend himself against the -President's suggestion that he had received something like three -thousand pounds from Lady Meg and given her not a jot of supernatural -information in return. This failure of Sophy's was the first rift -between Lady Meg and her. Pharos could have used it against her, and his -power was great; but it was not at present his game to eject her from -the household. He had other ends in view; and there was no question of -the hundred-pound note yet.</p> - -<p>It is pleasant to turn to another figure—one which stands out in the -meagre records of this time and bears its prominence well. Casimir -Marquis de Savres is neither futile nor sordid, neither schemer nor -impostor. He was a brave and simple soldier and gentleman, holding his -ancestral principles in his heart, but content to serve his country in -evil times until good should come. He was courteous and attentive to -Lady Meg, touching her follies with a light hand; and to Sophy he gave -his love with an honest and impetuous sincerity, which he masked by a -gay humor—lest his lady should be grieved at the havoc she herself had -made. His feelings about Pharos, his partner, and his jugglings, need no -description. "If you are neither restoring the King nor raising the -devil to-morrow, I should like to come to breakfast," he writes in one -of his early letters. "O Lady of the Red Star, if it were to restore you -to your kingdom in the star whose sign you bear, I would raise the devil -himself, all laws of Church and State notwithstanding! I came on Tuesday -evening—you were surrounded by most unimpeachable dowagers. Excellent -principles and irreproachable French! But, <i>mon Dieu</i>, for conversation! -I came on Thursday afternoon. Pharos and Mantis held sway, and I dared -not look round for fear of my ancestors being there to see me in the -Emperor's uniform! Tell me when there will be no ancestors living or -dead, nor dowagers nor devils, that I may come and see you. If dear Lady -Meg (Laidee Maig!)<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> <i>should</i> be pursuing one or the other in other -places, yet forbid me not to come. She has whims, we know, but not, -thank Heaven, many principles; or, if she has our principles, at least -she scorns our etiquette. Moreover, queens make etiquette, and are not -ruled by what they make. And Star-Queens are more free and more -absolute still. What a long note—all to ask for a breakfast! No, it's -to ask for a sight of your eyes—and a volume would not be too long for -me to write—though it would be a bad way to make friends with the eyes -that had to read it! I believe I go on writing because it seems in some -way to keep you with me; and so, if I could write always of you, I would -lay down my sword and take up the pen for life. Yet writing to you, -though sweet as heaven, is as the lowest hell from which Pharos fetches -devils as compared with seeing you. Be kind. Farewell.</p> - -<p class="right">"<span class="smcap">Casimir.</span>"</p> - -<p>To this he adds a postscript, referring apparently to some unrecorded -incident: "Yes, the Emperor did ask who it was the other day. I was sure -his eye <i>hit the mark</i>. I have the information direct."</p> - -<hr style="width: 45%;" /> - -<p>It is very possible that this direct information pleased Sophy.</p> - -<p>Last among the prominent members of the group in which Sophy lived in -Paris is Madame Zerkovitch. Her husband was of Russian extraction, his -father having settled in Kravonia and become naturalized there. The son -was now in Paris as correspondent to one of the principal papers of -Slavna. Madame Zerkovitch was by birth a Pole; not a remarkable woman in -herself, but important in this history as the effective link between -these days and Sophy's life in Kravonia. She was small and thin, with -auburn hair and very bright, hazel eyes, with light-colored lashes. An -agreeable talker, an accomplished singer, and a kind-hearted woman, she -was an acquaintance to be welcomed. Whatever strange notions she -harbored about Sophy in after-days, she conceived from the beginning, -and never lost, a strong affection for her, and their friendship -ripened quickly from their first meeting at Lady Meg's, where Marie -Zerkovitch was a frequent visitor, and much interested in Pharos's -hocus-pocus.</p> - -<p>The occasion was one of the séances where Sophy was to be medium. It was -a curious scene. Gaunt Lady Meg, with her eyes strained and eager, -superintended the arrangements. "Lord help you!" was plentiful for -everybody, even for the prophet Pharos himself when his miracle was -behind time. Mantis was there, subterraneously scornful of her unwilling -rival; and the rogue Pharos himself, with his oily glibness, his cheap -mystery, and his professional jargon. Two or three dowagers and Casimir -de Savres—who had to unbuckle his sword and put it outside the door for -reasons insufficiently explained—completed the party. In the middle sat -Sophy, smiling patiently, but with her white brow wrinkled just a little -beneath the arching masses of her dark hair. On her lips the smile -persisted all through; the mark was hardly visible. "No more than the -slightest pinkness; I didn't notice it till I had looked at her for full -five minutes," says Marie Zerkovitch. This was, no doubt, the normal -experience of those who met Sophy first in moments of repose or of -depression.</p> - -<p>Sophy is to "go off." Pharos makes his passes and goes through the rest -of his performance.</p> - -<p>"I feel nothing at all—not even sleepy," said Sophy. "Only just tired -of staring at monsieur!"</p> - -<p>Casimir de Savres laughed; old Lady Meg looked furious; Mantis hid a -sickly smile. Down go the lights to a dull gloom—at the prophet's -request. More gestures, more whisperings, and then sighs of exhaustion -from the energetic wizard.</p> - -<p>"Get on, Lord help you!" came testily from Lady Meg. Had Pharos been -veritably her idol, she would have kicked him into granting her prayer.</p> - -<p>"She won't give me her will—she won't be passive," he protests, almost -eliciting a perverse sympathy.</p> - -<p>He produced a glittering disk, half as large again as a five-franc -piece; it gave forth infinite sparkles through the dark of the room. -"Look at that! Look hard—and think of nothing else!" he commanded.</p> - -<p>Silence fell on the room. Quick breaths came from eager Lady Meg; -otherwise all was still.</p> - -<p>"It's working!" whispered the wizard. "The power is working."</p> - -<p>Silence again. Then a sudden, overpowering peal of laughter from the -medium—hearty, rippling, irrepressible and irresistible.</p> - -<p>"Oh, Lady Meg, I feel such a fool—oh, such a fool!" she cried—and her -laughter mastered her again.</p> - -<p>Irresistible! Marie Zerkovitch joined in Casimir's hearty mirth, -Mantis's shrill cackle and the sniggers of the dowagers swelled the -chorus. Casimir sprang up and turned up the gas, laughing still. The -wizard stood scowling savagely; Lady Meg glared malignantly at her -ill-chosen medium and disappointing <i>protégée</i>.</p> - -<p>"What's the reason for it, Lord help you?" she snarled, with a very -nasty look at Pharos.</p> - -<p>He saw the danger. His influence was threatened, his patroness's belief -in him shaken.</p> - -<p>"I don't know," he answered, in apparent humility. "I can't account for -it. It happens, so far as I know, only in one case—and Heaven forbid -that I should suggest that of mademoiselle."</p> - -<p>"What is the case?" snapped Lady Meg, by no means pacified—in fact, -still dangerously sceptical.</p> - -<p>Pharos made an answer, grave and serious in tone in purpose and effect -malignantly nonsensical: "When the person whom it is sought to subject -to this particular influence (he touched the pocket where his precious -disk now lay) has the Evil Eye."</p> - -<p>An appeal to a superstition old as the hills and widespread as the human -race—would it ever fail to hit some mark in a company of a dozen? -Casimir laughed in hearty contempt, Sophy laughed in mischievous -mockery. But two of the dowagers crossed themselves, Lady Meg started -and glowered—and little Madame Zerkovitch marked, recorded, and -remembered. Her mind was apt soil for seed of that order.</p> - -<p>That, in five years' time, five years in jail awaited the ingenious -Monsieur Pharos occasions a consoling reflection.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="IIB" id="IIB"></a>II</h2> - -<h3>THE LORD OF YOUTH</h3> - - -<p>Sophy's enemies were at work—and Sophy was careless. Such is the -history of the next twelve months. Mantis was installed medium now—and -the revelations came. But they came slow, vague, fitful, tantalizing. -Something was wrong, Pharos confessed ruefully—what could it be? For -surely Lady Meg by her faith (and, it may be added, her liberality) -deserved well of the Unseen Powers? He hinted at that Evil Eve again, -but without express accusation. Under "the influence" Mantis would speak -of "the malign one"; but Mantis, when awake, thought Mademoiselle de -Gruche a charming young lady! It was odd and mysterious. Pharos could -make nothing of it; he, too, thought Mademoiselle Sophie—he advanced to -that pleasant informality of description—quite ravishing and entirely -devoted to Lady Meg, only, unhappily, so irresponsive to the Unseen—a -trifle unsympathetic, it might be. But what would you? The young had no -need to think of death or the dead. Was it to be expected, then, that -Mademoiselle Sophie would be a good subject, or take much interest in -the work, great and wonderful though it might be?</p> - -<p>The pair of rogues did their work well and quietly—so quietly that -nothing of it would be known were it not that they quarrelled later on -over the spoils of this and other transactions, and Madame Mantis, in -the witness-box at Lille, used her memory and her tongue freely. "The -plan now was to get rid of the young lady," she said, plainly. "Pharos -feared her power over my lady, and that my lady might leave her all the -money. Pharos hated the young lady because she would have nothing to say -to him, and told him plainly that she thought him a charlatan. She had -courage, yes! But if she would have joined in with him—why, then into -the streets with me! I knew that well enough, and Pharos knew I knew it. -So I hated her, too, fearing that some day she and he would make up -their differences, and I—that for me! Yes, that was how we were, -Monsieur le Président." Her lucid exposition elicited a polite -compliment from Monsieur le Président—and we also are obliged to her.</p> - -<p>But Sophy was heedless. She showed afterwards that she could fight well -for what she loved well, and that with her an eager heart made a strong -hand. Her heart was not in this fight. The revelation of mad Lady Meg's -true motive for taking her up may well have damped a gratitude otherwise -becoming in Sophy Grouch transmuted to Sophie de Gruche. Yet the -gratitude remained; she fought for Lady Meg—for her sanity and some -return of sanity in her proceedings. In so fighting she fought against -herself—for Lady Meg was very mad now. For herself she did not fight; -her heart and her thoughts were elsewhere. The schemes in the Rue de -Grenelle occupied her hardly more than the clash of principles, the -efforts of a falling dynasty, the struggles of rising freedom, the stir -and seething of the great city and the critical times in which she -lived.</p> - -<p>For she was young, and the Lord of Youth had come to visit her in his -shower of golden promise. The days were marked for her no more by the -fawning advances or the spiteful insinuations of Pharos than by the -heroics of an uneasy emperor or the ingenious experiments in reconciling -contradictions wherein his ministers were engaged. For her the days -lived or lived not as she met or failed to meet Casimir de Savres. It -was the season of her first love. Yet, with all its joy, the shadow of -doubt is over it. It seems not perfect; the delight is in receiving, not -in giving; his letters to her, full of reminiscences of their meetings -and talks, are shaded with doubt and eloquent of insecurity. She was no -more than a girl in years; but in some ways her mind was precociously -developed—her ambition was spreading its still growing wings. Casimir's -constant tone of deference—almost of adulation—marks in part the man, -in part the convention in which he had been bred; but it marks, too, the -suppliant: to the last he is the wooer, not the lover, and at the end of -his ecstasy lies the risk of despair. For her part she often speaks of -him afterwards, and always with the tenderest affection; she never -ceased to carry with her wherever she went the bundle of his letters, -tied with a scrap of ribbon and inscribed with a date. But there is one -reference, worthy of note, to her innermost sentiments towards him, to -the true state of her heart as she came to realize it by-and-by. "I -loved him, but I hadn't grown into my feelings," she says. Brief and -almost accidental as the utterance is, it is full of significance; but -its light is thrown back. It is the statement of how she came to know -how she had been towards him, not of how in those happy days she seemed -to herself to be.</p> - -<p>He knew about Grouch; he had been told by a copious superfluity of -female friendliness—by Lady Meg, cloaking suspicious malignity under -specious penitence; by Madame Mantis with impertinent and intrusive -archness; by Marie Zerkovitch in the sheer impossibility of containing -within herself any secret which had the bad fortune to be intrusted to -her. Sophy's own confession, made with incredible difficulty—she hated -the name so—fell flat and was greeted with a laugh of mockery.</p> - -<p>It happened at the <i>Calvaire</i> at Fontainebleau, whither they had made a -day's and night's excursion, under the escort of Marie Zerkovitch and a -student friend of hers from the Quartier Latin. These two they had left -behind sipping beer at a restaurant facing the château. On the eminence -which commands the white little town dropped amid the old forest, over -against the red roofs of the palace vying in richness with the turning -leaves, in sight of a view in its own kind unsurpassed, in its own charm -unequalled, Sophy broke the brutal truth which was to end the -infatuation of the head of a house old as St. Louis.</p> - -<p>"It's bad to pronounce, is it?" asked Casimir, smiling and touching her -hand. "Ah, well, good or bad, I couldn't pronounce it, so to me it is -nothing."</p> - -<p>"They'd all say it was terrible—a mésalliance."</p> - -<p>"I fear only one voice on earth saying that."</p> - -<p>"And the fraud I am—de Gruche!" She caught his hand tightly. Never -before had it occurred to her to defend or to excuse the transparent -fiction.</p> - -<p>"I know stars fall," he said, with his pretty gravity, not too grave. "I -wish that they may rise to their own height again—and I rise with -them."</p> - -<p>The sun sank behind the horizon. A gentle afterglow of salmon-pink -rested over the palace and city; the forest turned to a frame of smoky, -brownish black. Casimir waved a hand towards it and laughed merrily.</p> - -<p>"Before we were, it was—after we are, it shall be! I sound as old as -Scripture! It has seen old masters—and great mistresses! Saving the -proprieties, weren't you Montespan or Pompadour?"</p> - -<p>"De la Vallière?" she laughed. "Or Maintenon?"</p> - -<p>"For good or evil, neither! Do I hurt you?"</p> - -<p>"No; you make me think, though," answered Sophy. "Why?"</p> - -<p>"They niggled—at virtue or at vice. You don't niggle! Neither did -Montespan nor Pompadour."</p> - -<p>"And so I am to be—Marquise de—?"</p> - -<p>"Higher, higher!" he laughed. "Madame la Maréchale—!"</p> - -<p>"It is war, then—soon—you think?" She turned to him with a sudden -tension.</p> - -<p>He pointed a Frenchman's eloquent forefinger to the dark mass of the -château, whose chimneys rose now like gloomy interrogation-marks to an -unresponsive, darkened sky. "He is there now—the Emperor! Perhaps he -walks in his garden by the round pond—thinking, dreaming, balancing."</p> - -<p>"Throwing balls in the air, as conjurers do?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, my star."</p> - -<p>"And if he misses the first?"</p> - -<p>"He'll seek applause by the second. And the second, I think, would be -war."</p> - -<p>"And you would—go?"</p> - -<p>"To what other end do I love the Lady of the Red Star—alas! I can't see -it—save to bring her glory?"</p> - -<p>"That's French," said Sophy, with a laugh. "Wouldn't you rather stay -with me and be happy?"</p> - -<p>"Who speaks to me?" he cried, springing to his feet. "Not you!"</p> - -<p>"No, no," she answered, "I have no fear. What is it, Casimir, that -drives us on?"</p> - -<p>"Drives us on! You! You, too?"</p> - -<p>"It's not a woman's part, is it?"</p> - -<p>He caught her round the waist, and she allowed his clasp. But she grew -grave, yet smiled again softly.</p> - -<p>"If all life were an evening at Fontainebleau—a fine evening at -Fontainebleau!" she murmured, in the low clearness which marked her -voice.</p> - -<p>"Mightn't it be?"</p> - -<p>"With war? And with what drives us on?"</p> - -<p>He sighed, and his sigh puzzled her.</p> - -<p>"Oh, well," she cried, "at least you know I'm Sophy Grouch, and my -father was as mean as the man who opens your lodge-gate."</p> - -<p>The sky had gone a blue-black. A single star sombrely announced the -coming pageant.</p> - -<p>"And his daughter high as the hopes that beckon me to my career!"</p> - -<p>"You've a wonderful way of talking," smiled Sophy Grouch—simple Essex -in contact with Paris at that instant.</p> - -<p>"You'll be my wife, Sophie?"</p> - -<p>"I don't think Lady Meg will keep me long. Pharos is working hard—so -Marie Zerkovitch declares. I should bring you a dot of two thousand five -hundred francs!"</p> - -<p>"Do you love me?"</p> - -<p>The old question rang clear in the still air. Who has not heard it of -women—or uttered it of men? Often so easy, sometimes so hard. When all -is right save one thing—or when all is wrong save one thing—then it is -hard to answer, and may have been hard to ask. With Casimir there was no -doubt, save the doubt of the answer. Sophy stood poised on a -hesitation. The present seemed perfect. Only an unknown future cried to -her through the falling night.</p> - -<p>"I'll win glory for you," he cried. "The Emperor will fight!"</p> - -<p>"You're no Emperor's man!" she mocked.</p> - -<p>"Yes, while he means France. I'm for anybody who means France." For a -moment serious, the next he kissed her hand merrily. "Or for anybody -who'll give me a wreath, a medal, a toy to bring home to her I love."</p> - -<p>"You're very fascinating," Sophy confessed.</p> - -<p>It was not the word. Casimir fell from his exaltation. "It's not love, -that of yours," said he.</p> - -<p>"No—I don't know. You might make it love. Oh, how I talk beyond my -rights!"</p> - -<p>"Beyond your rights? Impossible! May I go on trying?"</p> - -<p>He saw Sophy's smile dimly through the gloom. From it he glanced to the -dying gleam of the white houses dropped among the trees, to the dull -mass of the ancient home of history and kings. But back he came to the -living, elusive, half-seen smile.</p> - -<p>"Can you stop?" said Sophy.</p> - -<p>He raised his hat from his head and stooped to kiss her hand.</p> - -<p>"Nor would nor could," said he—"in the warmth of life or the cold hour -of death!"</p> - -<p>"No, no—if you die, it's gloriously!" The hour carried her away. -"Casimir, I wish I were sure!"</p> - -<p>The spirit of his race filled his reply: "You want to be dull?"</p> - -<p>"No—I—I—I want you to kiss my cheek."</p> - -<p>"May I salute the star?"</p> - -<p>"But it's no promise!"</p> - -<p>"It's better!"</p> - -<p>"My dear, I—I'm very fond of you."</p> - -<p>"That's all?"</p> - -<p>"Enough for to-night! What's he thinking of down there?"</p> - -<p>"The Emperor? I'm not so much as sure he's there, really. Somebody said -he had started for St. Cloud this morning."</p> - -<p>"Pretend he's there!"</p> - -<p>"Then of anything except how many men die for what he wants."</p> - -<p>"Or of how many women weep?"</p> - -<p>Her reply set a new light to his passion. "You'd weep?" he cried.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I suppose so!" The answer was half a laugh, half a sob.</p> - -<p>"But not too much! No more than the slightest dimness to the glowing -star!"</p> - -<p>Sophy laughed in a tremulous key; her body shook. She laid her hands in -his. "No more, no more. Surely Marie and the student are bored? Isn't it -supper-time? Oh, Casimir, if I were worthy, if I were sure! What's ahead -of us? Must we go back? To-night, up here, it all seems so simple! Does -he mean war? He down there? And you'll fight!" She looked at him for an -instant. He was close to her. She thrust him away from her. "Don't fight -thinking of me," she said.</p> - -<p>"How otherwise?" he asked.</p> - -<p>She tossed her head impatiently. "I don't know—but—but Pharos makes me -afraid. He—he says that things I love die."</p> - -<p>The young soldier laughed. "That leaves him pretty safe," said he.</p> - -<p>She put her arm through his, and they walked down. It had been a night -to be forgotten only when all is. Yet she went from him unpledged, and -tossed in her bed, asking: "Shall I?" and answered: "I'll decide -to-morrow!"</p> - -<p>But to-morrow was not at the <i>Calvaire</i> nor in the seducing sweetness of -the silent trees. When she rose, he was gone—and the student, too. -Marie Zerkovitch, inquisitively friendly, flung a fly for news.</p> - -<p>"He's as fine a gentleman as Lord Dunstanbury!" cried Sophy Grouch.</p> - -<p>"As who?" asked Marie.</p> - -<p>Sophy smiled over her smoking coffee. "As the man who first saw me," she -said. "But, oh, I'm puzzled!"</p> - -<p>Marie Zerkovitch bit her roll.</p> - -<p>"Armand was charming," she observed. The student was Armand. He, too, -let it be recorded, had made a little love, yet in all seemly ardor.</p> - -<p>So ends this glimpse of the happy days.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="IIIB" id="IIIB"></a>III</h2> - -<h3>THE NOTE—AND NO REASONS</h3> - - -<p>That feverish month of July—fitting climax to the scorching, arid -summer of 1870—had run full half its course. Madness had stricken the -rulers of France; to avoid danger they rushed on destruction. Gay -madness spread through the veins of Paris. Perverse always, Lady Meg -Duddington chose this moment for coming back to her senses—or at least -for abandoning the particular form of insanity to which she had devoted -the last five years.</p> - -<p>One afternoon she called her witch and her wizard. "You're a pair of -quacks, and I've been an old fool," she said, composedly, sitting -straight up in her high-backed chair. She flung a couple of -thousand-franc notes across the table. "You can go," she ended, with -contemptuous brevity. Mantis's evil temper broke out: "She has done -this, the malign one!" Pharos was wiser; he had not done badly out of -Lady Meg, and madness such as hers is apt to be recurrent. His farewell -was gentle, his exit not ungraceful; yet he, too, prayed her to beware -of a certain influence. "Stuff! You don't know what you're talking -about!" Lady Meg jerked out, and pointed with her finger to the door. -"So we went out, and to avoid any trouble we left Paris the same day. -But this man here would not give me any of the money, though I had done -as much to earn it as he had, or more." So injured Madame Mantis told -Monsieur le Président at Lille.</p> - -<p>Early on the morning of Sunday, the 17th, having received word through -Lady Meg's maid that her presence was not commanded in the Rue de -Grenelle, Sophy slipped round to the Rue du Bac and broke in on Marie -Zerkovitch, radiant with her great news and imploring her friend to -celebrate it by a day in the country.</p> - -<p>"It means that dear old Lady Meg will be what she used to be to me!" she -cried. "We shall go back to England, I expect, and—I wonder what that -will be like!"</p> - -<p>Her face grew suddenly thoughtful. Back to England! How would that suit -Sophie de Gruche? And what was to happen about Casimir de Savres? The -period of her long, sweet indecision was threatened with a forced -conclusion.</p> - -<p>Marie Zerkovitch was preoccupied against both her friend's joy and her -friend's perplexity. Great affairs touched her at home. There would be -war, she said, certainly war; to-day the Senate went to St. Cloud to see -the Emperor. Zerkovitch had started thither already, on the track of -news. The news in the near future would certainly be war, and Zerkovitch -would follow the armies, still on the track of news. "He went before, in -the war of 'sixty-six," she said, her lips trembling. "And he all but -died of fever; that kills the correspondents just as much as the -soldiers. Ah, it's so dangerous, Sophie—and so terrible to be left -behind alone. I don't know what I shall do! My husband wants me to go -home. He doesn't believe the French will win, and he fears trouble for -those who stay here." She looked at last at Sophy's clouded face. "Ah, -and your Casimir—he will be at the front!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, Casimir will be at the front," said Sophy, a ring of excitement -hardly suppressed in her voice.</p> - -<p>"If he should be killed!" murmured Marie, throwing her arms out in a -gesture of lamentation.</p> - -<p>"You bird of ill omen! He'll come back covered with glory."</p> - -<p>The two spent a quiet day together, Sophy helping Marie in her homely -tasks. Zerkovitch's campaigning kit was overhauled—none knew how soon -orders for an advance might come—his buttons put on, his thick -stockings darned. The hours slipped away in work and talk. At six -o'clock they went out and dined at a small restaurant hard by. Things -seemed very quiet there. The fat waiter told them with a shrug: "We -sha'n't have much noise here to-night—the lads will be over there!" He -pointed across the river. "They'll be over there most of the night—on -the <i>grands boulevards</i>. Because it's war, madame. Oh, yes, it's war!" -The two young women sipped their coffee in silence. "As a lad I saw -1830. I was out in the streets in 1851. What shall I see next?" he asked -them as he swept his napkin over the marble table-top. If he stayed at -his post, he saw many strange things; unnatural fires lit his skies, and -before his doors brother shed brother's blood.</p> - -<p>The friends parted at half-past seven. Marie hoped her husband would be -returning home soon, and with news; Sophy felt herself due in the Rue de -Grenelle. She reached the house there a little before eight. The -<i>concierge</i> was not in his room; she went up-stairs unseen, and passed -into the drawing-room. The inner door leading to the room Lady Meg -occupied stood open. Sophy called softly, but there was no answer. She -walked towards the door and was about to look into the room, thinking -that perhaps Lady Meg was asleep, when she heard herself addressed. The -Frenchwoman who acted as their cook had come in and stood now on the -threshold with a puzzled, distressed look on her face.</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry, Mademoiselle Sophie, to tell you, but my lady has gone."</p> - -<p>"Gone! Where to?"</p> - -<p>"To England, I believe. This morning, after you had gone out, she -ordered everything to be packed. It was done. She paid us here off, -bidding me alone stay till orders reached me from Monsieur le Marquis. -Then she went; only the coachman accompanied her. I think she started -for Calais. At least, she is gone."</p> - -<p>"She said—said nothing about me?"</p> - -<p>"You'll see there's a letter for you on the small table in the window -there."</p> - -<p>"Oh yes! Thank you."</p> - -<p>"Your room is ready for you to-night."</p> - -<p>"I've dined. I shall want nothing. Good-night."</p> - -<p>Sophy walked over to the little table in the window, and for a few -moments stood looking at the envelope which lay there, addressed to her -in Lady Meg's sprawling hand. The stately room in the Rue de Grenelle -seemed filled with a picture which its walls had never seen; old words -re-echoed in Sophy's ears: "If I want you to go, I'll put a -hundred-pound note in an envelope and send it to you; upon which you'll -go, and no reasons given! Is it agreed?" As if from a long way off, she -heard a servant-girl answer: "It sounds all right." She saw the old -elm-trees at Morpingham, and heard the wind murmur in their boughs; -Pindar chuckled, and Julia Robins's eyes were wet with tears.</p> - -<p>"And no reasons given!" It had sounded all right—before five years of -intimacy and a life transformed. It sounded different now. Yet the -agreement had been made between the strange lady and the eager girl. Nor -were reasons hard to find. They stood out brutally plain. Having sent -her prophet to the right about, Lady Meg wanted no more of her -medium—her most disappointing medium. "They" would not speak through -Sophy; perhaps Lady Meg did not now want them to speak at all.</p> - -<p>Sophy tore the envelope right across its breadth and shook out the -flimsy paper within. It was folded in four. She did not trouble to open -it. Lady Meg was a woman of her word, and here was the hundred-pound -note of the Bank of England—"upon which you'll go, and no reasons -given!" With a bitter smile she noticed that the note was soiled, the -foldings old, the edges black where they were exposed. She had no doubt -that all these years Lady Meg had carried it about, so as to be ready -for the literal fulfilment of her bond.</p> - -<p>"Upon which," said Sophy, "I go."</p> - -<p>The bitter smile lasted perhaps a minute more; then the girl flung -herself into a chair in a fit of tears as bitter. She had served—or -failed to serve—Lady Meg's mad purpose, and she was flung aside. Very -likely she had grown hateful—she, the witness of insane whims now past -and out of favor. The dismissal might not be unnatural; but, for all -their bargain, the manner was inhuman. They had lived and eaten and -drunk together for so long. Had there been no touch of affection, no -softening of the heart? It seemed not—it seemed not. Sophy wept and -wondered. "Oh, that I had never left you, Julia!" she cries in her -letter, and no doubt cried now; for Julia had given her a friend's love. -If Lady Meg had given her only what one spares for a dog—a kind word -before he is banished, a friendly lament at parting!</p> - -<p>Suddenly through the window came a boy's shrill voice: "<i>Vive la -guerre!</i>"</p> - -<p>Sophy sprang to her feet, caught up the dirty note, and thrust it inside -her glove. Without delay, seemingly without hesitation, she left the -house, passed swiftly along the street, and made for the Pont Royal. She -was bound for the other bank and for the Boulevard des Italiens, where -Casimir de Savres had his lodging. The stream of traffic set with her. -She heeded it not. The streets were full of excited groups, but there -was no great tumult yet. Men were eagerly reading the latest editions of -the papers. Sophy pushed on till she reached Casimir's house. She was -known there. Her coming caused surprise to the <i>concierge</i>—it was not -the proper thing; but he made no difficulty. He showed her to Casimir's -sitting-room, but of Casimir he could give no information, save that he -presumed he would return to sleep.</p> - -<p>"I must wait—I must see him," she said; and, as the man left her, she -went to the window, flung it open wide, and stood there, looking down -into the great street.</p> - -<p>The lights blazed now. Every seat at every <i>café</i> was full. The -newspapers did a great trade; a wave of infinite talk, infinite chaff, -infinite laughter rose to her ears. A loud-voiced fellow was selling -pictures of the King of Prussia—as he looks now, and as he will look! -The second sheet never failed of a great success. Bands of lads came by -with flags and warlike shouts. Some cheered them, more laughed and -chaffed. One broad-faced old man she distinguished in the <i>café</i> -opposite; he looked glum and sulky and kept arguing to his neighbor, -wagging a fat forefinger at him repeatedly; the neighbor shrugged bored -shoulders; after all, he had not made the war—it was the Emperor and -those gentlemen at St. Cloud! As she watched, the stir grew greater, the -bands of marching students more frequent and noisy, "<i>A Berlin!</i>" they -cried now, amid the same mixture of applause and tolerant amusement. A -party of girls paraded down the middle of the street, singing "<i>J'aime -les militaires!</i>" The applause grew to thunder as they went by, and the -laughter broke into one great crackle when the heroines had passed.</p> - -<p>She turned away with a start, conscious of a presence in the room. -Casimir came quickly across to her, throwing his helmet on the table as -he passed. He took her hands. "I know. Lady Meg wrote to me," he said. -"And you are here!"</p> - -<p>"I have no other home now," she said.</p> - -<p>With a light of joy in his eyes he kissed her lips.</p> - -<p>"I come to you only when I'm in trouble!" she said, softly.</p> - -<p>"It is well," he answered, and drew her with him back to the window.</p> - -<p>Together they stood looking down.</p> - -<p>"It is war, then?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"Without doubt it's war—without doubt," he answered, gravely. "And -beyond that no man knows anything."</p> - -<p>"And you?" she asked.</p> - -<p>He took her hands again, both of hers in his. "My lady of the Red Star!" -he murmured, softly.</p> - -<p>"And you?"</p> - -<p>"You wouldn't have it otherwise?"</p> - -<p>"Heaven forbid! God go with you as my heart goes! When do you go?"</p> - -<p>"I take the road in an hour for Strasburg. We are to be of MacMahon's -corps."</p> - -<p>"In an hour?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Your preparations—are they made?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"And you are free?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Then you've an hour to make me sure I love you!"</p> - -<p>He answered as to a woman of his own stock.</p> - -<p>"I have an hour now—and all the campaign," said he.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="IVB" id="IVB"></a>IV</h2> - -<h3>THE PICTURE AND THE STAR</h3> - - -<p>The letter which gives Julia Robins the history of that Sunday—so -eventful alike for France and for Sophy—is the last word of hers from -Paris. Julia attached importance to it, perhaps for its romantic flavor, -perhaps because she fancied that danger threatened her friend. At any -rate, she bestowed it with the care she gave to the later letters, and -did not expose it to the hazards which destroyed most of its -predecessors. It is dated from Marie Zerkovitch's apartment in the Rue -du Bac, and it ends: "I shall stay here, whatever happens—unless -Casimir tells me to meet him in Berlin!"</p> - -<p>The rash comprehensiveness of "whatever happens" was not for times like -those, when neither man nor nation knew what fate an hour held; but for -three weeks more she abode with Marie Zerkovitch. Marie was much -disturbed in her mind. Zerkovitch had begun to send her ominous letters -from the front—or as near thereto as he could get; the burden of them -was that things looked bad for the French, and that her hold on Paris -should be a loose one. He urged her to go home, where he would join -her—for a visit at all events, very likely to stay. Marie began to talk -of going home in a week or so; but she lingered on for the sake of being -nearer the news of the war. So, amid the rumors of unreal victories and -the tidings of reverses only too real, if not yet great, the two women -waited.</p> - -<p>Casimir had found time and opportunity to send Sophy some half-dozen -notes (assuming she preserved all she received). On the 5th of August, -the eve of Wõrth, he wrote at somewhat greater length: "It is night. I -am off duty for an hour. I have been in the saddle full twelve hours, -and I believe that, except the sentries and the outposts, I am the only -man awake. We need to sleep. The Red Star, which shines everywhere for -me, shines for all of us over our bivouac to-night. It must be that we -fight to-morrow. Fritz is in front of us, and to-morrow he will come on. -The Marshal must stop him and spoil his game; if we don't go forward -now, we must go back. And we don't mean going back. It will be the first -big clash—and a big one, I think, it will be. Our fellows are in fine -heart (I wish their boots were as good!), but those devils over -there—well, they can fight, too, and Fritz can get every ounce out of -them. I am thinking of glory and of you. Is it not one and the same -thing? For, in that hour, I didn't make you sure! I know it. Sophie, I'm -hardly sorry for it. It seems sweet to have something left to do. Ah, -but you're hard, aren't you? Shall I ever be sure of you? Even though I -march into Berlin at the head of a regiment!</p> - -<p>"I can say little more—the orderly waits for my letter. Yet I have so -much, much more to say. All comes back to me in vivid snatches. I am -with you in the old house—or by the <i>Calvaire</i> (you remember?); or -again by the window; or while we walked back that Sunday night. I hear -your voice—the low, full-charged voice. I see your eyes; the star glows -anew for me. Adieu! I live for you always so long as I live. If I die, -it will be in the thought of you, and they will kill no prouder man than -Sophie's lover. To have won your love (ah, by to-morrow night, yes!) and -to die for France—would it be ill done for a short life? By my faith, -no! I'll make my bow to my ancestors without shame. 'I, too, have done -my part, messieurs!' say I, as I sit down with my forefathers. Sophie, -adieu! You won't forget? I don't think you can quite forget. Your -picture rides with me, your star shines ahead.</p> - -<p class="right">"<span class="smcap">Casimir.</span>"</p> - -<hr style="width: 45%;" /> - -<p>He was not wrong. They fought next day. The letter is endorsed "8th -August," presumably the date of its receipt. That day came also the news -of the disaster. On the 11th the casualty list revealed Casimir de -Savres's name. A few lines from a brother officer a day later gave -scanty details. In the great charge of French cavalry which marked the -closing stages of the battle he had been the first man hit of all his -regiment—shot through the heart—and through the picture of Sophy which -lay over his heart.</p> - -<p>No word comes from Sophy herself. And Madame Zerkovitch is brief: "She -showed me the picture. The bullet passed exactly through where that mark -on her cheek is. It was fearful; I shuddered; I hoped she didn't see. -She seemed quite stunned. But she insisted on coming with me to -Kravonia, where I had now determined to go at once. I did not want her -to come. I thought no good would come of it. But what could I do? She -would not return to England; she could not stay alone in Paris. I was -the only friend she had in the world. She asked no more than to travel -with me. 'When once I am there, I can look after myself,' she said."</p> - -<p>The pair—a little fragment of a great throng, escaping or thrust -forth—left Paris together on the 13th or 14th of August, en route for -Kravonia. With Sophy went the bullet-pierced picture and the little -bundle of letters. She did not forget. With a sore wound in her heart -she turned to face a future dark, uncertain, empty of all she had loved. -And—had she seen Marie Zerkovitch's shudder? Did she remember again, as -she had remembered by the <i>Calvaire</i> at Fontainebleau, how Pharos had -said that what she loved died? She had bidden Casimir not fight thinking -of her. Thinking of her, he had fought and died. All she ever wrote -about her departure is one sentence—"I went to Kravonia in sheer -despair of the old life; I had to have something new."</p> - -<p>Stricken she went forth from the stricken city, where hundreds of men -were cutting down the trees beneath whose shade she had often walked and -ridden with her lover.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2>PART III</h2> - -<h2>KRAVONIA</h2> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I</h2> - -<h3>THE NAME-DAY OF THE KING</h3> - - -<p>The ancient city of Slavna, for a thousand years or more and under many -dynasties the capital of Kravonia, is an island set in a plain. It lies -in the broad valley of the Krath, which at this point flows due east. -Immediately above the city the river divides into two branches, known as -the North and the South rivers; Slavna is clasped in the embrace of -these channels. Conditioned by their course, its form is not circular, -but pear-shaped, for they bend out in gradual broad curves to their -greatest distance from one another, reapproaching quickly after that -point is passed till they meet again at the end—or, rather, what was -originally the end—of the city to the east; the single reunited river -may stand for the stalk of the pear.</p> - -<p>In old days the position was a strong one; nowadays it is obviously much -less defensible; and those in power had recognized this fact in two -ways—first by allocating money for a new and scientific system of -fortifications; secondly by destroying almost entirely the ancient and -out-of-date walls which had once been the protection of the city. Part -of the wall on the north side, indeed, still stood, but where it had -escaped ruin it was encumbered and built over with warehouses and -wharves; for the North River is the channel of commerce and the medium -of trade with the country round about. To the south the wall has been -entirely demolished, its site being occupied by a boulevard, onto which -faces a line of handsome modern residences—for as the North River is -for trade, so the South is for pleasure—and this boulevard has been -carried across the stream and on beyond the old limits of the city, and -runs for a mile or farther on the right bank of the reunited Krath, -forming a delightful and well-shaded promenade where the citizens are -accustomed to take their various forms of exercise.</p> - -<p>Opposite to it, on the left bank, lies the park attached to the Palace. -That building itself, dating from 1820 and regrettably typical of the -style of its period, faces the river on the left bank just where the -stream takes a broad sweep to the south, giving a rounded margin to the -King's pleasure-grounds. Below the Palace there soon comes open country -on both banks. The boulevard merges in the main post-road to Volseni and -to the mountains which form the eastern frontier of the kingdom. At this -date, and for a considerable number of years afterwards, the only -railway line in Kravonia did not follow the course of the Krath (which -itself afforded facilities for traffic and intercourse), but ran down -from the north, having its terminus on the left bank of the North River, -whence a carriage-bridge gave access to the city.</p> - -<p>To vote money is one thing, to raise it another, and to spend it on the -designated objects a third. Not a stone nor a sod of the new forts was -yet in place, and Slavna's solitary defence was the ancient castle which -stood on the left bank of the river just at the point of bisection, -facing the casino and botanical gardens on the opposite bank. -Suleiman's Tower, a relic of Turkish rule, is built on a simple plan—a -square curtain, with a bastion at each corner, encloses a massive -circular tower. The gate faces the North River, and a bridge, which -admits of being raised and lowered, connects this outwork with the north -wall of the city, which at this point is in good preservation. The fort -is roomy; two or three hundred men could find quarters there; and -although it is, under modern conditions, of little use against an enemy -from without, it occupies a position of considerable strength with -regard to the city itself. It formed at this time the headquarters and -residence of the Commandant of the garrison, a post held by the heir to -the throne, the Prince of Slavna.</p> - -<p>In spite of the flatness of the surrounding country, the appearance of -Slavna is not unpicturesque. Time and the hand of man (the people are a -color-loving race) have given many tints, soft and bright, to the roofs, -gables, and walls of the old quarter in the north town, over which -Suleiman's Tower broods with an antique impressiveness. Behind the -pleasant residences which border on the southern boulevard lie handsome -streets of commercial buildings and shops, these last again glowing with -diversified and gaudy colors. In the centre of the city, where, but for -its bisection, we may imagine the Krath would have run, a pretty little -canal has been made by abstracting water from the river and conducting -it through the streets. On either side of this stream a broad road runs. -Almost exactly midway through the city the roads broaden and open into -the spacious Square of St. Michael, containing the cathedral, the fine -old city hall, several good town-houses dating two or three hundred -years back, barracks, and the modern but not unsightly Government -offices. Through this square and the streets leading to it from west -and east there now runs an excellent service of electric cars; but at -the date with which we are concerned a crazy fiacre or a crazier omnibus -was the only public means of conveyance. Not a few good private -equipages were, however, to be seen, for the Kravonians have been from -of old lovers of horses. The city has a population bordering on a -hundred thousand, and, besides being the principal depot and centre of -distribution for a rich pastoral and agricultural country, it transacts -a respectable export trade in hides and timber. It was possible for a -careful man to grow rich in Slavna, even though he were not a politician -nor a Government official.</p> - -<p>Two or three years earlier, an enterprising Frenchman of the name of -Rousseau had determined to provide Slavna with a first-rate modern hotel -and <i>café</i>. Nothing could have consorted better with the views of King -Alexis Stefanovitch, and Monsieur Rousseau obtained, on very favorable -terms, a large site at the southeast end of the city, just where the -North and South rivers reunite. Here he built his hostelry and named it -<i>pietatis causâ</i>, the Hôtel de Paris. A fine terrace ran along the front -of the house, abutting on the boulevard and affording a pleasant view of -the royal park and the Palace in the distance on the opposite bank.</p> - -<p>On this terrace, it being a fine October morning, sat Sophy, drinking a -cup of chocolate.</p> - -<p>The scene before her, if not quite living up to the name of the hotel, -was yet animated enough. A score of handsome carriages drove by, some -containing gayly dressed ladies, some officers in smart uniforms. Other -officers rode or walked by; civil functionaries, journalists, and a -straggling line of onlookers swelled the stream which set towards the -Palace. Awaking from a reverie to mark the unwonted stir, Sophy saw the -leaders of the informal procession crossing the ornamental iron bridge -which spanned the Krath, a quarter of a mile from where she sat, and -gave access to the King's demesne on the left bank.</p> - -<p>"Right bank—left bank! It sounds like home!" she thought to herself, -smiling perhaps rather bitterly. "Home!" Her home now was a single room -over a goldsmith's shop, whither she had removed to relieve Marie -Zerkovitch from a hospitality too burdensome, as Sophy feared, for her -existing resources to sustain.</p> - -<p>The reverie bore breaking; it had been none too pleasant; in it sad -memories disputed place with present difficulties. Some third or so -remained of Lady Meg's hundred-pound note. Necessity had forced a use of -the money at any cost to pride. When all was gone, Sophy would have to -depend on what is so often a last and so often a vain refuge—the -teaching of French; it was the only subject which she could claim to -teach. Verily, it was a poor prospect; it was better to look at the -officers and the ladies than to think of it—ay, better than to think of -Casimir and of what lay in the past. With her strong will she strove to -steel herself alike against recollection and against apprehension.</p> - -<p>The <i>café</i> was nearly deserted; the hour was too early for the citizens, -and Sophy's own chocolate had been merely an excuse to sit down. Yet -presently a young officer in a hussar uniform stopped his horse opposite -the door, and, giving over the reins to an orderly who attended him, -nimbly dismounted. Tall and fair, with a pleasant, open face, he wore -his finery with a dashing air, and caressed a delicate, upturned -mustache as he glanced round, choosing his seat. The next moment he -advanced towards Sophy; giving her a polite salute, he indicated the -little table next to hers.</p> - -<p>"Mademoiselle permits?" he asked. "She has, I fear, forgotten, but I -have the honor to be an acquaintance of hers."</p> - -<p>"I remember," smiled Sophy. "Captain Markart? We met at Madame -Zerkovitch's."</p> - -<p>"Oh, that's pleasant of you!" he cried. "I hate being clean forgotten. -But I fear you remember me only because I sang so badly!"</p> - -<p>"I remember best that you said you wanted to go and help France, but -your General wouldn't let you."</p> - -<p>"Ah, I know why you remember that—you especially! Forgive me—our -friend Marie Zerkovitch told me." He turned away for a moment to give an -order to the waiter.</p> - -<p>"What's going on to-day?" asked Sophy. "Where's everybody going?"</p> - -<p>"Why, you are a stranger, mademoiselle!" he laughed. "It's the King's -name-day, and we all go and congratulate him."</p> - -<p>"Is that it? Are you going?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly; in attendance on my General—General Stenovics. My lodgings -are near here, his house at the other end of the boulevard, so he gave -me leave to meet him here. I thought I would come early and fortify -myself a little for the ordeal. To mademoiselle's good health!" He -looked at her with openly admiring eyes, to which tribute Sophy accorded -a lazy, unembarrassed smile. She leaned her chin on her hand, turning -her right cheek towards him. Sophy was never disdainful, never -neglectful; her pose now was good.</p> - -<p>"What sort of a man is the King?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"The King is most emphatically a very good sort of fellow—a very good -old fellow. I only wish his son was like him! The Prince is a Tartar. -Has he gone by yet?"</p> - -<p>"I don't think so. I suppose he'd have an escort, wouldn't he? I don't -know him by sight yet. Does everybody call the King a good fellow?"</p> - -<p>"Some people are so extremely righteous!" pleaded Markart, ruefully. -"And, anyhow, he has reformed now."</p> - -<p>"Because he's old?"</p> - -<p>"Fifty-nine! Is that so very old? No; I rather attribute it—you're -discreet, I hope? I'm putting my fortunes in your hands—to Madame la -Comtesse."</p> - -<p>"The Countess Ellenburg? Marie has told me something about her."</p> - -<p>"Ah! Madame Zerkovitch is a friend of hers?"</p> - -<p>"Not intimate, I think. And is the Countess oppressively respectable, -Captain Markart?"</p> - -<p>"Women in her position always are," said the Captain, with an affected -sigh: his round, chubby face was wrinkled with merriment. "You see, a -morganatic marriage isn't such a well-established institution here as in -some other countries. Oh, it's legal enough, no doubt, if it's agreed to -on that basis. But the Stefanovitches have in the past often made -non-royal marriages—with their own subjects generally. Well, there was -nobody else for them to marry! Alexis got promotion in his first -marriage—an Italian Bourbon, which is always respectable, if not very -brilliant. That gave us a position, and it couldn't be thrown away. So -the second marriage had to be morganatic. Only—well, women are -ambitious, and she has a young son who bears the King's name—a boy -twelve years old."</p> - -<p>He looked reflectively at his polished boots. Sophy sat in thoughtful -silence. A jingle of swords and the clatter of hoofs roused them. A -troop of soldiers rode by. Their uniform was the same smart tunic of -light blue, with black facings, as adorned Captain Markart's shapely -person.</p> - -<p>"Ah, here's the Prince!" said Markart, rising briskly to his feet. Sophy -followed his example, though more in curiosity than respect.</p> - -<p>The young man at the head of the troop returned Markart's salute, but -was apparently unconscious of the individual from whom it proceeded. He -rode by without turning his head or giving a glance in the direction of -the <i>café</i> terrace. Sophy saw a refined profile, with a straight nose, -rather short, and a pale cheek: there was little trace of the Bourbon -side of the pedigree.</p> - -<p>"He's on his promotion, too," continued the loquacious and irreverent -Captain, as he resumed his seat. "They want a big fish for -him—something German, with a resounding name. Poor fellow!"</p> - -<p>"Well, it's his duty," said Sophy.</p> - -<p>"Somebody who'll keep the Countess in order, eh?" smiled Markart, -twirling his mustache. "That's about the size of it, I expect, though -naturally the General doesn't show me his hand. I only tell you common -gossip."</p> - -<p>"I think you hardly do yourself justice. You've been very interesting, -Captain Markart."</p> - -<p>"I tell you what," he said, with an engaging candor, "I believe that -somehow the General makes me chatter just to the extent he wants me to, -and then stops me. I don't know how he does it; it's quite unconscious -on my part. I seem to say just what I like!"</p> - -<p>They laughed together over this puzzle. "You mean General Stenovics?" -asked Sophy.</p> - -<p>"Yes, General Stenovics. Ah, here he is!" He sprang up again and made a -low bow to Sophy. "Au revoir, mademoiselle. A thousand thanks!"</p> - -<p>He saluted her and hurried to the side of the pavement. General -Stenovics rode up, with two orderlies behind him. Saluting again, -Markart mounted his horse. The General brought his to a stand and waited -the necessary moment or two with a good-humored smile. His eye wandered -from the young officer to the presumable cause of his lack of vigilance. -Sophy felt the glance rest on her face. In her turn she saw a stout, -stumpy figure, clad in a rather ugly dark-green uniform, and a heavy, -olive-tinted face adorned with a black mustache and a stubbly gray -beard. General Stenovics, President of the Council of Ministers, was not -an imposing personage to the outward view. But Sophy returned the regard -of his prominent pale-blue eyes (which sorted oddly with the complexion -of his face) with vivid attention. The General rode on, Markart -following, but turning in his saddle to salute once more and to wave his -hand in friendly farewell.</p> - -<p>For the first time since her arrival in Slavna, Sophy was conscious of a -stir of excitement. Life had been dull and heavy; the mind had enjoyed -little food save the diet of sad memories. To-day she seemed to be -brought into sight of living interests again. They were far off, but -they were there; Markart's talk had made a link between them and her. -She sat on for a long while, watching the junction of the streams and -the broad current which flowed onward past the Palace, on its long -journey to the sea. Then she rose with a sigh; the time drew near for a -French lesson. Marie Zerkovitch had already got her two pupils.</p> - -<p>When General Stenovics had ridden three or four hundred yards, he -beckoned his aide-de-camp and secretary—for Markart's functions were -both military and civil—to his side.</p> - -<p>"We're last of all, I suppose?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Pretty nearly, sir."</p> - -<p>"That must be his Royal Highness just crossing the bridge?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir, that's his escort."</p> - -<p>"Ah, well, we shall just do it! And who, pray"—the General turned round -to his companion—"is that remarkable-looking young woman you've managed -to pick up?"</p> - -<p>Markart told what he knew of Mademoiselle de Gruche; it was not much.</p> - -<p>"A friend of the Zerkovitches? That's good. A nice fellow, -Zerkovitch—and his wife's quite charming. And your friend—?"</p> - -<p>"I can hardly call her that, General."</p> - -<p>"Tut, tut! You're irresistible, I know. Your friend—what did you tell -her?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing, on my honor." The young man colored and looked a trifle -alarmed. But Stenovics's manner was one of friendly amusement.</p> - -<p>"For an example of your 'nothing,'" he went on, "you told her that the -King was an amiable man?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, possibly, General."</p> - -<p>"That the Countess was a little—just a little—too scrupulous?"</p> - -<p>"It was nothing, surely, to say that?"</p> - -<p>"That we all wanted the Prince to marry?"</p> - -<p>"I made only the most general reference to that, sir."</p> - -<p>"That—" he looked harder at his young friend—"the Prince is not -popular with the army?"</p> - -<p>"On my honor, no!"</p> - -<p>"Think, think, Markart."</p> - -<p>Markart searched his memory; under interrogation it accused him; his -face grew rueful.</p> - -<p>"I did wish he was more like his Majesty. I—I did say he was a Tartar."</p> - -<p>Stenovics chuckled in apparent satisfaction at his own perspicacity. But -his only comment was: "Then your remarkably handsome young friend knows -something about us already. You're an admirable cicerone to a stranger, -Markart."</p> - -<p>"I hope you're not annoyed, sir. I—I didn't tell any secrets?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly not, Markart. Three bits of gossip and one lie don't make up -a secret between them. Come, we must get along."</p> - -<p>Markart's face cleared; but he observed that the General did not tell -him which was the lie.</p> - -<p>This day Sophy began the diary; the first entry is dated that afternoon. -Her prescience—or presentiment—was not at fault. From to-day events -moved fast, and she was strangely caught up in the revolutions of the -wheel.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II</h2> - -<h3>AT THE GOLDEN LION</h3> - - -<p>It was the evening of the King's name-day. There was a banquet at the -Palace, and the lights in its windows twinkled in sympathetic response -to the illuminations which blazed on the public buildings and principal -residences of Slavna. Everywhere feasting and revelry filled the night. -The restaurant of the Hôtel de Paris was crowded, every seat on its -terrace occupied; the old Inn of the Golden Lion, opposite the barracks -in the Square of St. Michael, a favorite resort of the officers of the -garrison, did a trade no less good; humbler hostelries were full of -private soldiers, and the streets themselves of revellers male and -female, military and civil, honest and dishonest, drunk and sober. -Slavna had given itself up to a frolic; for, first, a <i>fête</i> is a -<i>fête</i>, no matter what its origin; secondly, King Alexis was the most -popular man in his dominions, though he never did a decent day's work -for them; lastly, there is often no better way to show how much you hate -one man than by making a disproportionate fuss about another. It was -well understood that by thus honoring King Alexis, its Monarch, by thus -vociferously and untiringly wishing him the longest of reigns, Slavna -was giving a stinging back-hander to Prince Sergius, its titular Prince -and Commandant. You would see the difference when the Prince's day came -round! When General Stenovics pointed to the lights gleaming across the -Krath from the Palace windows and congratulated his Royal Highness on -the splendid popularity of the reigning House, the Prince's smile may -well have been ironical.</p> - -<p>"I shall go and see all this merriment for myself at close quarters -presently, General," said he. "I think the Commandant had best return to -the city to-night as early as the King will allow."</p> - -<p>"An admirable devotion to duty, sir," answered the General gravely, and -without any effort to dissuade the zealous Prince.</p> - -<p>But even in this gay city there was one spot of gloom, one place where -sullen rancor had not been ousted by malicious merriment. The first -company of his Majesty's Guards was confined to its barracks in the -Square of St. Michael by order of the Commandant of Slavna; this by -reason of high military misdemeanors—slackness when on duty, rioting -and drunkenness when on leave; nor were the officers any better than the -men. "You are men of war in the streets, men of peace in the ranks," -said the Commandant to them that morning in issuing his decree. "You -shall have a quiet evening to think over your short-comings." The order -was reported to the King; he sighed, smiled, shook his head, said that, -after all, discipline must be vindicated, and looked at his son with -mingled admiration and pity. Such a faculty for making himself, other -people, and things in general uncomfortable! But, of course, discipline! -The Commandant looked stern, and his father ventured on no opposition or -appeal. General Stenovics offered no remonstrance either, although he -had good friends in the offending company. "He must do as he likes—so -long as he's Commandant," he said to Markart.</p> - -<p>"May I go and see them and cheer them up a bit, sir, instead of coming -with you to the Palace?" asked that good-natured young man.</p> - -<p>"If his Royal Highness gives you leave, certainly," agreed the General.</p> - -<p>The Commandant liked Markart. "Yes—and tell them what fools they are," -he said, with a smile.</p> - -<p>Markart found the imprisoned officers at wine after their dinner; the -men had resigned themselves to fate and gone to bed. Markart delivered -his message with his usual urbane simplicity. Lieutenant Rastatz giggled -uneasily—he had a high falsetto laugh. Lieutenant Sterkoff frowned -peevishly. Captain Mistitch rapped out a vicious oath and brought his -great fist down on the table. "The evening isn't finished yet," he said. -"But for this cursed fellow I should have been dining with Vera at the -Hôtel de Paris to-night!"</p> - -<p>Whereupon proper condolences were offered to their Captain by his -subalterns, who, in fact, held him in no small degree of fear. He was a -huge fellow, six feet three and broad as a door; a great bruiser and a -duellist of fame; his nickname was Hercules. His florid face was flushed -now with hot anger, and he drank his wine in big gulps.</p> - -<p>"How long are we to stand it?" he growled. "Are we school-girls?"</p> - -<p>"Come, come, it's only for one evening," pleaded Markart. "One quiet -evening won't hurt even Captain Hercules!"</p> - -<p>The subalterns backed him with a laugh, but Mistitch would have none of -it. He sat glowering and drinking still, not to be soothed and decidedly -dangerous. From across the square came the sound of music and singing -from the Golden Lion. Again Mistitch banged the table.</p> - -<p>"Listen there!" he said. "That's pleasant hearing while we're shut up -like rats in a trap—and all Slavna laughing at us!"</p> - -<p>Markart shrugged his shoulders and smoked in silence; to argue with the -man was to court a quarrel; he began to repent of his well-meant visit. -Mistitch drained his glass.</p> - -<p>"But some of us have a bit of spirit left, and so Master Sergius shall -see," he went on. He put out a great hand on either side and caught -Sterkoff and Rastatz by their wrists. "We're the fellows to show him!" -he cried.</p> - -<p>Sterkoff seemed no bad choice for such an enterprise—a wiry, active -fellow, with a determined, if disagreeable, face, and a nasty squint in -his right eye. But Rastatz, with his slim figure, weak mouth, and high -laugh, promised no great help; yet in him fear of Mistitch might -overcome all other fear.</p> - -<p>"Yes, we three'll show him! And now"—he rose to his feet, dragging the -pair up with him—"for a song and a bottle at the Golden Lion!"</p> - -<p>Rastatz gasped, even Sterkoff started. Markart laughed: it could be -nothing more than a mad joke. Cashiering was the least punishment which -would await the act.</p> - -<p>"Yes, we three together!" He released them for a moment and caught up -his sword and cap. Then he seized Rastatz's wrist again and squeezed it -savagely. "Come out of your trap with me, you rat!" he growled, in -savage amusement at the young man's frightened face.</p> - -<p>Sterkoff gained courage. "I'm with you, Hercules!" he cried. "I'm for -to-night—the devil take to-morrow morning!"</p> - -<p>"You're all drunk," said Markart, in despairing resignation.</p> - -<p>"We'll be drunker before the night's out," snarled Mistitch. "And if I -meet that fellow when I'm drunk, God help him!" He laughed loudly. "Then -there might be a chance for young Alexis, after all!"</p> - -<p>The words alarmed Markart. Young Count Alexis was the King's son by -Countess Ellenburg. A chance for young Alexis!</p> - -<p>"For Heaven's sake, go to bed!" he implored.</p> - -<p>Mistitch turned on him. "I don't want to quarrel with anybody in Slavna -to-night, unless I meet one man. But you can't stop me, Markart, and -you'll only do mischief by trying. Now, my boys!"</p> - -<p>They were with him—Sterkoff with a gleam in his squinting eye, Rastatz -with a forced, uneasy giggle and shaking knees. Mistitch clapped them on -the back.</p> - -<p>"Another bottle apiece and we'll all be heroes!" he cried. "Markart, you -go home to your mamma!"</p> - -<p>Though given in no friendly way, this advice was wise beneath its -metaphor. But Markart did not at once obey it. He had no more authority -than power to interfere; Mistitch was his senior officer, and he had no -special orders to act. But he followed the three in a fascinated -interest, and with the hope that a very brief proof of his freedom would -content the Captain. Out from the barracks the three marched. The sentry -at the gate presented arms, but tried to bar their progress. With a -guffaw and a mighty push Mistitch sent him sprawling. "The Commandant -wants us, you fool!" he cried—and the three were in the square.</p> - -<p>"What the devil will come of this business?" thought Markart, as he -followed them over the little bridge which spanned the canal, and thence -to the door of the Golden Lion. Behind them still he passed the seats on -the pavement and entered the great saloon. As Mistitch and his -companions came in, three-fourths of the company sprang to their feet -and returned the salute of the new-comers; so strongly military in -composition was the company—officers on one side of a six-feet-high -glass screen which cut the room in two, sergeants and their inferiors on -the other. A moment's silence succeeded the salute. Then a young officer -cried: "The King has interfered?" It did not occur to anybody that the -Commandant might have changed his mind and reversed his decree; for good -or evil, they knew him too well to think of that.</p> - -<p>"The King interfered?" Mistitch echoed, in his sonorous, rolling, thick -voice. "No; we've interfered ourselves, and walked out! Does any one -object?"</p> - -<p>He glared a challenge round. There were officers present of superior -rank—they drank their beer or wine discreetly. The juniors broke into a -ringing cheer; it was taken up and echoed back from behind the glass -screen, to which a hundred faces were in an instant glued, over which, -here and there, the head of some soldier more than common tall suddenly -projected.</p> - -<p>"A table here!" cried Mistitch. "And champagne! Quick! Sit down, my -boys!"</p> - -<p>A strange silence followed the impulsive cheers. Men were thinking. -Cheers first, thoughts afterwards, was the order in Slavna as in many -other cities. Now they recognized the nature of this thing, the fateful -change from sullen obedience to open defiance. Was it only a drunken -frolic—or, besides that, was it a summons to each man to choose his -side? Choosing his side might well mean staking his life.</p> - -<p>A girl in a low-necked dress and short petticoats began a song from a -raised platform at the end of the room. She was popular, and the song a -favorite. Nobody seemed to listen; when she ended, nobody applauded. -Mistitch had been whispering with Sterkoff, Rastatz sitting silent, -tugging his slender, fair mustache. But none of the three had omitted to -pay their duty to the bottle; even Rastatz's chalky face bore a patch of -red on either cheek. Mistitch rose from his chair, glass in hand.</p> - -<p>"Long life to the King!" he shouted. "That's loyal, isn't it? Ay, -immortal life!"</p> - -<p>The cheers broke out again, mingled with laughter. A voice cried: "Hard -on his heir, Captain Hercules!"</p> - -<p>"Ay!" Mistitch roared back. "Hard as he is on us, my friend!"</p> - -<p>Another burst of cheering—and again that conscience-smitten silence.</p> - -<p>Markart had found a seat, near the door and a good way from the -redoubtable Mistitch and his companions. He looked at his watch—it was -nearly ten; in half an hour General Stenovics would be leaving the -Palace, and it was meet that he should know of all this as soon as -possible. Markart made up his mind that he would slip away soon; but -still the interest of the scene, the fascination of this prelude—such -it seemed to him—held his steps bound.</p> - -<p>Suddenly a young man of aristocratic appearance rose from a table at the -end of the room, where he had been seated in company with a pretty and -smartly dressed girl. A graceful gesture excused him to his fair -companion, and he threaded his way deftly between the jostling tables to -where Mistitch sat. He wore Court dress and a decoration. Markart -recognized in the young man Baron von Hollbrandt, junior Secretary of -the German Legation in Slavna.</p> - -<p>Hollbrandt bowed to Mistitch, with whom he was acquainted, then bent -over the giant's burly back and whispered in his ear.</p> - -<p>"Take a friend's advice, Captain," he said. "I've been at the Palace, -and I know the Prince had permission to withdraw at half-past nine. He -was to return to Slavna then—to duty. Come, go back. You've had your -spree."</p> - -<p>"By the Lord, I'm obliged to you!" cried Mistitch. "Lads, we're obliged -to Baron von Hollbrandt! Could you tell me the street he means to come -by? Because"—he rose to his feet again—"we'll go and meet him!"</p> - -<p>Half the hall heard him, and the speech was soon passed on to any out of -hearing. A sparse cheer sputtered here and there, but most were silent. -Rastatz gasped again, while Sterkoff frowned and squinted villanously. -Hollbrandt whispered once more, then stood erect, shrugged his -shoulders, bowed, and walked back to his pretty friend. He sat down and -squeezed her hand in apology; the pair broke into laughter a moment -later. Baron von Hollbrandt felt that he at least had done his duty.</p> - -<p>The three had drunk and drunk; Rastatz was silly, Sterkoff vicious, the -giant Mistitch jovially and cruelly reckless, exalted not only by liquor -but with the sense of the part he played. Suddenly from behind the glass -screen rose a mighty roar:</p> - -<p>"Long live Mistitch! Down with tyrants! Long live Captain Hercules!"</p> - -<p>It was fuel to the flames. Mistitch drained his glass and hurled it on -the floor.</p> - -<p>"Well, who follows me?" he cried.</p> - -<p>Half the men started to their feet; the other half pulled them down. -Contending currents of feeling ran through the crowd; a man was reckless -this moment, timid the next; to one his neighbor gave warning, to -another instigation. They seemed poised on the point of a great -decision. Yet what was it they were deciding? They could not tell.</p> - -<p>Markart suddenly forgot his caution. He rushed to Mistitch, with his -hands out and "For God's sake!" loud on his lips.</p> - -<p>"You!" cried Mistitch. "By Heaven! what else does your General want? -What else does Matthias Stenovics want? Tell me that!"</p> - -<p>A silence followed—of dread suspense. Men looked at one another in fear -and doubt. Was that true which Mistitch said? They felt as ordinary men -feel when the edge of the curtain is lifted from before high schemes or -on intrigues of the great.</p> - -<p>"If I should meet the Prince to-night, wouldn't there be news for -Stenovics?" cried Mistitch, with a roar of laughter.</p> - -<p>If he should meet the Prince! The men at the tables could not make up -their minds to that. Mistitch they admired and feared, but they feared -the proud Prince, too; they had many of them felt the weight of his -anger. Those who had stood up sank back in their places. One pot-bellied -fellow raised a shout of hysterical laughter round him by rubbing his -fat face with a napkin and calling out: "I should like just one minute -to think about that meeting, Captain Hercules!"</p> - -<p>Markart had shrunk back, but Mistitch hurled a taunt at him and at all -the throng.</p> - -<p>"You're curs, one and all! But I'll put a heart in you yet! And now"—he -burst into a new guffaw—"my young friends and I are going for a walk. -What, aren't the streets of Slavna free to gentlemen? My friends and I -are going for a walk. If we meet anybody on the pavement—well, he must -take to the road. We're going for a walk."</p> - -<p>Amid a dead silence he went out, his two henchmen after him. He and -Sterkoff walked firm and true—Rastatz lurched in his gait. A thousand -eyes followed their exit, and from five hundred throats went up a long -sigh of relief that they were gone. But what had they gone to do? The -company decided that it was just as well for them, whether collectively -or as individuals, not to know too much about that. Let it be hoped that -the cool air outside would have a sobering effect and send them home to -bed! Yet from behind the glass screen there soon arose again a busy -murmur of voices, like the hum of a beehive threatened with danger.</p> - -<p>"A diplomatic career is really full of interest, ma chère," observed -Baron von Hollbrandt to his fair companion. "It would be difficult to -see anything so dramatic in Berlin!"</p> - -<p>His friend's pretty blue eyes lit up with an eager intensity as she took -the cigarette from between her lips. Her voice was full of joyful -excitement:</p> - -<p>"Yes, it's to death between that big Mistitch and the Prince—the blood -of one or both of them, you'll see!"</p> - -<p>"You are too deliciously Kravonian," said Hollbrandt, with a laugh.</p> - -<p>Outside, big Mistitch had crossed the canal and come to the corner where -the Street of the Fountain opens on to St. Michael's Square. "What say -you to a call at the Hôtel de Paris, lads?" he said.</p> - -<p>"Hist!" Sterkoff whispered. "Do you hear that step—coming up the street -there?"</p> - -<p>The illuminations burned still in the Square and sent a path of light -down the narrow street. The three stopped and turned their heads. -Sterkoff pointed. Mistitch looked—and smacked his ponderous thigh.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III</h2> - -<h3>THE VIRGIN WITH THE LAMP</h3> - - -<p>Whatever Marie Zerkovitch's feelings might be, Fate had its hand on her -and turned her to its uses. It was she who had directed Sophy's steps to -the old house ten doors down the Street of the Fountain from St. -Michael's Square. It was no more than half a mile from her own villa on -the south boulevard (from which the Street ran to the Square), and she -had long known the decent old couple—German Jews—who lived and carried -on their trade in the house over whose front hung the sign of the Silver -Cock. The face of the building was covered with carved timbers of great -age; the door of the shop stood far back within a black and ancient -porch. Behind the shop were a couple of rooms where Meyerstein and his -wife lived; above it one large room, with a window which jutted far out -over the narrow street. In this room, which was reached by a separate -door in the left side of the porch and a crazy flight of a dozen winding -stairs, lived Sophy, and thence she sallied out daily to give her -lessons to her two pupils.</p> - -<p>By the window she sat on the night of the King's name-day, on a low -chair. The heavy figure of a girl carrying a lamp—a specimen of her -landlord's superfluous stock—stood unemployed on the window-sill. The -room was dark, for the path of light from the illuminations, which made -the roadway below white, threw hardly a gleam on to its sombre walls; -but Sophy had no need of a lamp and every need to save her money. She -sat in the gloom, busy in thought, the fresh evening air breathing soft -and cool on her brow from the open window.</p> - -<p>Swift to build on slenderest foundations, avid to pile imagination on -imagination till the unsubstantial structure reached the skies, her mind -was at work to-night. The life and stir, the heat and tumult, of the -city, were fuel to her dreams. Chances and happenings were all about -her; they seemed to lie, like the water for Tantalus, just beyond the -reach of her finger-tips; her eyes pierced to the vision of them through -the dusky blackness of the ancient room. In response to the confused yet -clamorous cry of the life around her, her spirit awoke. Dead were the -dear dead; but Sophy was alive. But to be a starving French mistress at -Slavna—was that a chance? Yes, a better than being cook-maid at -Morpingham; and even in the kitchen at Morpingham Fortune had found her -and played with her awhile. For such frolics and such favor, however -fickle, however hazardous, Sophy Grouch of Morpingham was ever ready. -Dunstanbury had come to Morpingham—and Lady Meg. Paris had brought the -sweet hours and the gracious memory of Casimir de Savres. Should Slavna -lag behind? Who would come now? Ever the highest for Sophy Grouch! The -vision of the royal escort and its pale young leader flashed in the -darkness before her eagerly attendant eyes.</p> - -<p>Suddenly she raised her head. There was a wild, quick volley of -cheering; it came from the Golden Lion, whose lights across the Square a -sideways craning of her neck enabled her to see. Then there was silence -for minutes. Again the sound broke forth, and with it confused shoutings -of a name she could not make out. Yes—what was it? Mistitch—Mistitch! -That was her first hearing of the name.</p> - -<p>Silence fell again, and she sank back into her chair. The lights, the -stir, the revelry were not for her, nor the cheers nor the shouts. A -moment of reaction and lassitude came on her, a moment when the present, -the actual, lapped her round with its dim, muddy flood of vulgar -necessity and sordid needs. With a sob she bowed her head to meet her -hands—a sob that moaned a famine of life, of light, of love. "Go back -to your scullery, Sophy Grouch!" What voice had said that? She sprang to -her feet with fists clinched, and whispered to the darkness: "No!"</p> - -<p>In the street below, Mistitch slapped his thigh.</p> - -<p>Sophy pushed her hair back from her heated forehead and looked out of -the window. To the right, some twenty yards away and just at the end of -the street, she saw the figures of three men. In the middle was one who -bulked like a young Falstaff—Falstaff with his paunch not grown; he was -flanked by two lean fellows who looked small beside him. She could not -see the faces plainly, since the light from the Square was behind them. -They seemed to be standing there and looking past the sign of the Silver -Cock along the street.</p> - -<p>A measured, military footfall sounded on her left. Turning her head, she -saw a young man walking with head bent down and arms behind him. The -line of light struck full on him, he was plain to see as by broadest -day. He wore a costume strange to her eyes—a black sheepskin cap, a -sheepskin tunic, leather breeches, and high, unpolished boots—a rough, -plain dress; yet a broad, red ribbon crossed it, and a star glittered on -the breast; the only weapon was a short, curved scimitar. It was the -ancient costume of the Bailiff of Volseni, the head of that clan of -shepherds who pastured their flocks on the uplands. The Prince of Slavna -held the venerable office, and had been to Court in the dress -appropriate to it. He had refused to use his carriage, sending his -aides-de-camp home in it, and walked now through the streets of the city -which he had in charge. It was constantly his habit thus to walk; his -friends praised his vigilance; his foes reviled his prowling, spying -tricks; of neither blame nor praise did he take heed.</p> - -<p>Sophy did not know the dress, but the face she knew; it had been but -lately before her dreaming eyes; she had seen it in the flesh that -morning from the terrace of the Hôtel de Paris.</p> - -<p>The three came on from her right, one of the lean men hanging back, -lurking a little behind. They were under her window now. The Prince was -but a few yards away. Suddenly he looked up with a start—he had become -aware of their approach. But before he saw them the three had melted to -one. With a shrill cry of consternation—of uneasy courage oozing -out—Rastatz turned and fled back to the Square, heading at his top -speed for the Golden Lion. In the end he was unequal to the encounter. -Sterkoff, too, disappeared; but Sophy knew the meaning of that; he had -slipped into the shelter of the porch. Her faculties were alert now; she -would not forget where Sterkoff was! Mistitch stood alone in the centre -of the narrow street, his huge frame barely leaving room for a man to -pass on either side.</p> - -<p>For a moment the Prince stood still, looking at the giant. Incredulity -had seemed to show first in his eyes; it changed now to a cold anger as -he recognized the Captain. He stepped briskly forward, and Sophy heard -his clear, incisive tones cut the air:</p> - -<p>"What extraordinary emergency has compelled you to disobey my orders, -Captain Mistitch?"</p> - -<p>"I wanted a breath of fresh air," Mistitch answered, in an easy, -insolent tone.</p> - -<p>The Prince looked again; he seemed even more disgusted than angry now. -He thought Mistitch drunk—more drunk than in truth he was.</p> - -<p>"Return to barracks at once and report yourself under stringent arrest. -I will deal with you to-morrow."</p> - -<p>"And not to-night, Sergius Stefanovitch?" At least he was being as good -as his word, he was acting up to the vaunts he had thrown out so boldly -in the great hall of the Golden Lion.</p> - -<p>"To-morrow we shall both be cooler." He was almost up to Mistitch now. -"Stand out of my way, sir."</p> - -<p>Mistitch did not budge. "There's room for you to pass by," he said. "I -won't hurt you. But the middle of the road belongs to me to-night."</p> - -<p>His voice seemed to grow clearer with every word; the critical encounter -was sobering him. Yet with sobriety came no diminution of defiance. -Doubtless he saw that he was in for the worst now, that forward was the -word, and retreat impossible. Probably from this moment he did not -intend the Prince to pass alive. Well, what he intended was the wish of -many; he would not lack shelter, friends, or partisans if he dared the -desperate venture. Be it said for him that there were few things he did -not dare. He dared now, growing sober, to stand by what the fumes of -wine had fired his tongue to.</p> - -<p>For a moment after the big man's taunt the Prince stood motionless. Then -he drew his scimitar. It looked a poor, weak weapon against the sword -which sprang in answer from Mistitch's scabbard.</p> - -<p>"A duel between gentlemen!" the Captain cried.</p> - -<p>The Prince gave a short laugh. "You shall have no such plea at the -court-martial," he said. "Gentlemen don't waylay one another in the -streets. Stand aside!"</p> - -<p>Mistitch laughed, and in an instant the Prince sprang at him. Sophy -heard the blades meet. Strong as death was the fascination for her -eyes—ay, for her ears, too, for she heard the quick-moving feet and the -quicker breathing of a mortal combat. But she would not look—she tried -not even to listen. Her eyes were for a man she could not see, her ears -for a man she could not hear. She remembered the lean fellow hidden in -the porch, straight under her window. She dared not call to warn the -Prince of him; a turn of the head, a moment of inattention, would cost -either combatant his life. She took the man in the porch for her own -adversary, his undoing for her share in the fight.</p> - -<p>Very cautiously, making no sound, she took the heavy lamp—the massive -bronze figure of the girl—raised it painfully in both her hands, and -poised it half-way over the window-sill. Then she turned her eyes down -again to watch the mouth of the porch. Her rat was in that hole! Yet -suddenly the Prince came into her view; he circled half-way round -Mistitch, then sank on one knee; she heard him guard the Captain's -lunges with lightning-quick movements of his nimble scimitar. He was -trying the old trick they had practised for hundreds of years at -Volseni—to follow his parry with an upward-ripping stroke under the -adversary's sword, to strike the inner side of his forearm and cut the -tendons of the wrist. This trick big Captain Mistitch, a man of the -plains, did not know.</p> - -<p>A jangle—a slither—a bellow of pain, of rage! The Prince had made his -stroke, the hill-men of Volseni were justified of their pupil. -Mistitch's big sword clattered on the flags. Facing his enemy, with his -back to the porch, the Prince crouched motionless on his knee; but it -was death to Mistitch to try to reach the sword with his unmaimed hand.</p> - -<p>It was Sophy's minute; the message that it had come ran fierce through -all her veins. Straining to the weight, she raised the figure in her -hands and leaned out of the window. Yes, a lean hand with a long knife, -a narrow head, a spare, long back, crept out of the darkness of the -porch—crept silently. The body drew itself together for a fatal spring -on the unconscious Prince, for a fatal thrust. It would be death—and to -Mistitch salvation torn from the jaws of ruin.</p> - -<p>"Surrender yourself, Captain Mistitch," said the Prince.</p> - -<p>Mistitch's eyes went by his conqueror and saw a shadow on the path -beside the porch.</p> - -<p>"I surrender, sir," he said.</p> - -<p>"Then walk before me to the barracks." Mistitch did not turn. "At once, -sir!"</p> - -<p>"Now!" Mistitch roared.</p> - -<p>The crouching figure sprang—and with a hideous cry fell stricken on the -flags. Just below the neck, full on the spine, had crashed the Virgin -with the lamp. Sterkoff lay very still, save that his fingers scratched -the flags. Turning, the Prince saw a bronze figure at his feet, a bronze -figure holding a broken lamp. Looking up, he saw dimly a woman's white -face at a window.</p> - -<p>Then the street was on a sudden full of men. Rastatz had burst into the -Golden Lion, all undone—nerves, courage, almost senses gone. He could -stammer no more than: "They'll fight!" and could not say who. But he had -gone out with Mistitch—and whom had they gone to meet?</p> - -<p>A dozen officers were round him in an instant, crying: "Where? Where?" -He broke into frightened sobs, hiding his face in his hands. It was Max -von Hollbrandt who made him speak. Forgetting his pretty friend, he -sprang in among the officers, caught Rastatz by the throat, and put a -revolver to his head. "Where? In ten seconds—where?" Terror beat -terror. "The Street of the Fountain—by the Silver Cock!" the cur -stammered, and fell to his blubbering again.</p> - -<p>The dozen officers, and more, were across the Square almost before he -had finished; Max von Hollbrandt, with half the now lessened company in -the inn, was hot on their heels.</p> - -<p>For that night all was at an end. Sterkoff was picked up, unconscious -now. Sullen, but never cringing, Mistitch was marched off to the -guard-room and the surgeon's ministrations. Every soldier was ordered to -his quarters, the townsfolk slunk off to their homes. The street grew -empty, the glare of the illuminations was quenched. But of all this -Sophy saw nothing. She had sunk down in her chair by the window, and lay -there, save for her tumultuous breathing, still as death.</p> - -<p>The Commandant had no fear, and would have his way. He stood alone now -in the street, looking from the dark splash of Mistitch's blood to the -Virgin with her broken lamp, and up to the window of the Silver Cock, -whence had come salvation.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV</h2> - -<h3>THE MESSAGE OF THE NIGHT</h3> - - -<p>The last of the transparencies died out; the dim and infrequent -oil-lamps alone lit up the Street of the Fountain and St. Michael's -Square. They revelled still down at the Hôtel de Paris, whither Max von -Hollbrandt and a dozen others had hurried with the news of the evening's -great event. But here, on the borders of the old north quarter, all grew -still—the Golden Lion empty, the townsmen to their beds, the soldiers -to barracks, full of talk and fears and threats. Yet a light burned -still in the round room in the keep of Suleiman's Tower, and the -Commandant's servant still expected his royal master. Peter Vassip, a -sturdy son of Volseni, had no apprehensions—but he was very sleepy, and -he and the sentries were the only men awake. "One might as well be a -soldier at once!" he grumbled—for the men of the hills did not esteem -the Regular Army so high as it rated itself.</p> - -<p>The Commandant lingered in the Street of the Fountain. Sergius -Stefanovitch was half a Bourbon, but it was the intellectual half. He -had the strong, concentrated, rather narrow mind of a Bourbon of before -the family decadence; on it his training at Vienna had grafted a -military precision, perhaps a pedantry, and no little added scorn of -what men called liberty and citizens called civil rights. What rights -had a man against his country? His country was in his King—and to the -King the Army was his supreme instrument. So ran his public creed, his -statesman's instinct. But beside the Bourbon mother was the Kravonian -father, and behind him the long line of mingled and vacillating fortunes -which drew descent from Stefan, Lord of Praslok, and famous reiver of -lowland herds. In that stock the temperament was different: indolent to -excess sometimes, ardent to madness at others, moderate seldom. When the -blood ran hot, it ran a veritable fire in the veins.</p> - -<p>And for any young man the fight in the fantastically illuminated night, -the Virgin with the broken lamp, a near touch of the scythe of death, -and a girl's white face at the window? Behind the Commandant's stern -wrath—nay, beside—and soon before it—for the moment dazzling his -angry eyes—came the bright gleams of romance.</p> - -<p>He knew who lodged at the sign of the Silver Cock. Marie Zerkovitch was -his friend, Zerkovitch his zealous follower. The journalist was back now -from the battle-fields of France and was writing articles for <i>The -Patriot</i>, a leading paper of Slavna. He was deep in the Prince's -confidence, and his little house on the south boulevard often received -this distinguished guest. The Prince had been keen to hear from -Zerkovitch of the battles, from Marie of the life in Paris; with Marie's -tale came the name, and what she knew of the story, of Sophie de Gruche. -Yet always, in spite of her praises of her friend, Marie had avoided any -opportunity of presenting her to the Prince. Excuse on excuse she made, -for his curiosity ranged round Casimir de Savres's bereaved lover. "Oh, -I shall meet her some day all the same," he had said, laughing; and -Marie doubted whether her reluctance—a reluctance to herself -strange—had not missed its mark, inflaming an interest which it had -meant to balk. Why this strange reluctance? So far it was proved -baseless. His first encounter with the Lady of the Red Star—Casimir's -poetical sobriquet had passed Marie's lips—had been supremely -fortunate.</p> - -<p>From the splash of blood to the broken Virgin, from the broken Virgin to -the open window and the dark room behind, his restless glances sped. -Then came swift, impulsive decision. He caught up the bronze figure and -entered the porch. He knew Meyerstein's shop, and that from it no -staircase led to the upper floor. The other door was his mark, and he -knocked on it, raising first with a cautious touch, then more -resolutely, the old brass hand with hospitably beckoning finger which -served for knocker. Then he listened for a footstep on the stairs. If -she came not, the venturesome night went ungraced by its crowning -adventure. He must kiss the hand that saved him before he slept.</p> - -<p>The door opened softly. In the deep shadow of the porch, on the winding, -windowless staircase of the old house, it was pitch dark. He felt a hand -put in his and heard a low voice saying: "Come, Monseigneur." From first -to last, both in speech and in writing, she called him by that title and -by none other. Without a word he followed her, picking his steps, till -they reached her room. She led him to the chair by the window; the -darkness was somewhat less dense there. He stood by the chair.</p> - -<p>"The lamp's broken—and there's only one match in the box!" said Sophy, -with a low laugh. "Shall we use it now—or when you go, Monseigneur?"</p> - -<p>"Light it now. My memory, rather than my imagination!"</p> - -<p>She struck the match; her face came upon him white in the darkness, with -the mark on her cheek a dull red; but her eyes glittered. The match -flared and died down.</p> - -<p>"It is enough. I shall remember."</p> - -<p>"Did I kill him?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know whether he's killed—he's badly hurt. This lady here is -pretty heavy."</p> - -<p>"Give her to me. I'll put her in her place." She took the figure and set -it again on the window-sill. "And the big man who attacked you?"</p> - -<p>"Mistitch? He'll be shot."</p> - -<p>"Yes," she agreed with calm, unquestioning emphasis.</p> - -<p>"You know what you did to-night?"</p> - -<p>"I had the sense to think of the man in the porch."</p> - -<p>"You saved my life."</p> - -<p>Sophy gave a laugh of triumph. "What will Marie Zerkovitch say to that?"</p> - -<p>"She's my friend, too, and she's told me all about you. But she didn't -want us to meet."</p> - -<p>"She thinks I bring bad luck."</p> - -<p>"She'll have to renounce that heresy now." He felt for the chair and sat -down, Sophy leaning against the window-sill.</p> - -<p>"Why did they attack you?"</p> - -<p>He told her of the special grudge which Mistitch and his company had -against him, and added: "But they all hate me, except my own fellows -from Volseni. I have a hundred of them in Suleiman's Tower, and they're -stanch enough."</p> - -<p>"Why do they hate you?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, I'm their school-master—and a very strict one, I suppose. Or, if -you like, the pruning-knife—and that's not popular with the rotten -twigs."</p> - -<p>"There are many rotten twigs?"</p> - -<p>She heard his hands fall on the wooden arms of the chair and pictured -his look of despair. "All—almost all. It's not their fault. What can -you expect? They're encouraged to laziness and to riot. They have no -good rifles. The city is left defenceless. I have no big guns." He broke -suddenly into a low laugh. "There—that's what Zerkovitch calls my fixed -idea; he declares it's written on my heart—big guns!"</p> - -<p>"If you had them, you'd be—master?"</p> - -<p>"I could make some attempt at a defence anyhow; at least we could cover -a retreat to the hills, if war came." He paused. "And in peace—yes, I -should be master of Slavna. I'd bring men from Volseni to serve the -guns." His voice had grown vindictive. "Stenovics knows that, I think." -He roused himself again and spoke to her earnestly. "Listen. This fellow -Mistitch is a great hero with the soldiers and the mob. When I have him -shot, as I shall—not on my own account, I could have killed him -to-night, but for the sake of discipline—there will very likely be a -disturbance. What you did to-night will be all over the city by -to-morrow morning. If you see any signs of disturbance, if any people -gather round here, go to Zerkovitch's at once—or, if that's not -possible or safe, come to me in Suleiman's Tower, and I'll send for -Marie Zerkovitch too. Will you promise? You must run no risk."</p> - -<p>"I'll come if I'm afraid."</p> - -<p>"Or if you ought to be?" he insisted, laughing again.</p> - -<p>"Well, then—or if I ought to be," she promised, joining in his laugh. -"But the King—isn't he with you?"</p> - -<p>"My father likes me; we're good friends. But 'like father, unlike son' -they say of the Stefanovitches. I'm a martinet, they tell me; well, -he—isn't. Nero fiddled—you remember? The King goes fishing. He's -remarkably fond of fishing, and his advisers don't discourage him. I -tell you all this because you're committed to our side now."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I'm committed to your side. Who else is with you?"</p> - -<p>"In Slavna? Nobody! Well, the Zerkovitches, and my hundred in Suleiman's -Tower. And perhaps some old men who have seen war. But at Volseni and -among the hills they're with me." Again he seemed to muse as he reviewed -his scanty forces.</p> - -<p>"I wish we had another match. I want to see your face close," said -Sophy. He rose with a laugh and leaned his head forward to the window. -"Oh no; you're nothing but a blur still!" she exclaimed impatiently.</p> - -<p>Yet, though Sophy sighed for light, the darkness had its glamour. To -each the other's presence, seeming in some sense impalpable, seemed also -diffused through the room and all around; the world besides was -non-existent since unseen; they two alone lived and moved and spoke in -the dead silence and the blackness. An agitation stirred Sophy's -heart—forerunner of the coming storm. That night she had given him -life; he seemed to be giving back life to her life that night. How -should the hour not seem pregnant with destiny, a herald of the march of -Fate?</p> - -<p>But suddenly the Prince awoke from his reverie—perhaps from a dream. To -Sophy he gave the impression—as he was to give it more than once -again—of a man pulling himself up, tightening the rein, drawing back -into himself. He stood erect, his words became more formal, and his -voice restrained.</p> - -<p>"I linger too long," he said. "My duty lies at the Tower yonder. I've -thanked you badly; but what thanks can a man give for his life? We shall -meet again—I'll arrange that with Marie Zerkovitch. You'll remember -what I've told you to do in case of danger? You'll act on it?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, Monseigneur."</p> - -<p>He sought her hand, kissed it, and then groped his way to the stairs. -Sophy followed and went with him down to the porch.</p> - -<p>"Be careful to lock your door," he enjoined her, "and don't go out -to-morrow unless the streets are quite quiet."</p> - -<p>"Oh, but I've a French lesson to give at ten o'clock," she remonstrated -with a smile.</p> - -<p>"You have to do that?"</p> - -<p>"I have to make my living, Monseigneur."</p> - -<p>"Ah, yes," he said, meditatively. "Well, slip out quietly—and wear a -veil."</p> - -<p>"Nobody knows my face."</p> - -<p>"Wear a veil. People notice a face like yours. Again thanks, and -good-night."</p> - -<p>Sophy peeped out from the porch and watched his quick, soldierly march -up the street to St. Michael's Square. The night had lightened a little, -and she could make out his figure, although dimly, until he turned the -corner and was lost to sight. She lingered for a moment before turning -to go back to her room—lingered musing on the evening's history.</p> - -<p>Down the street, from the Square, there came a woman—young or old, -pretty or ugly, fine dame or drudge, it was too dark to tell. But it was -a woman, and she wept as though her heart were broken. For whom and for -what did she weep like that? Was she mother, or wife, or sweetheart? -Perhaps she wept for Sterkoff, who lay in peril of death. Perhaps she -loved big Mistitch, over whom hovered the shadow of swift and relentless -doom. Or maybe her sorrow was remote from all that touched them or -touched the girl who listened to her sobs—the bitter sobs which she did -not seek to check, which filled the night with a dirge of immeasurable -sadness. In the darkness, and to Sophy's ignorance of anything -individual about her, the woman was like a picture or a sculpture—some -type or monument of human woe—a figure of embodied sorrow, crying that -all joy ends in tears—in tears—in tears.</p> - -<p>She went by, not seeing her watcher. The sound of her sobbing softened -with distance, till it died down to a faint, far-off moan. Sophy herself -gave one choked sob. Then fell the silence of the night again. Was that -its last message—the last comment on what had passed? Tears—and then -silence? Was that the end?</p> - -<p>Sophy never learned aught of the woman—who she was or why she wept. But -her memory retained the vision. It had come as the last impression of a -night no moment of which could ever be forgotten. What had it to say of -all the rest of the night's happenings? Sophy's exaltation fell from -her; but her courage stood—against darkness, solitude, and the -unutterable sadness of that forlorn wailing. Dauntlessly she looked -forward and upward still, yet with a new insight for the cost.</p> - -<p>So for Sophy passed the name-day of King Alexis.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V</h2> - -<h3>A QUESTION OF MEMORY</h3> - - -<p>King Alexis was minded that all proper recognition should be made of -Sophy's service to his family. It had been her fortune to protect a life -very precious in his eyes. Alien from his son in temperament and -pursuits, he had, none the less, considerable affection for him. But -there was more than this. With the Prince was bound up the one strong -feeling of a nature otherwise easy and careless. The King might go -fishing on most lawful days, but it was always a Stefanovitch who -fished—a prince who had married a princess of a great house, and had -felt able to offer Countess Ellenburg no more than a morganatic union. -The work his marriage had begun his son's was to complete. The royal -house of Kravonia was still on its promotion; it lay with the Prince to -make its rank acknowledged and secure.</p> - -<p>Thus Sophy's action loomed large in the King's eyes, and he was -indolently indifferent to the view taken of it in the barrack-rooms and -the drinking-shops of Slavna. Two days after Mistitch's attempt, he -received Sophy at the Palace with every circumstance of compliment. The -Prince was not present—he made military duty an excuse—but Countess -Ellenburg and her little son were in the room, and General Stenovics, -with Markart in attendance, stood beside the King's chair.</p> - -<p>Sophy saw a tall, handsome, elderly man with thick, iron-gray hair, most -artfully arranged. (The care of it was no small part of the duty of -Lepage, the King's French body-servant.) His Majesty's manners were -dignified, but not formal. The warmth of greeting which he had prepared -for Sophy was evidently increased by the impression her appearance made -on him. He thanked her in terms of almost overwhelming gratitude.</p> - -<p>"You have preserved the future of my family and of our dynasty," he -said.</p> - -<p>Countess Ellenburg closed her long, narrow eyes. Everything about her -was long and narrow, from her eyes to her views, taking in, on the way, -her nose and her chin. Stenovics glanced at her with a smile of uneasy -propitiation. It was so particularly important to be gracious just -now—gracious both over the preservation of the dynasty and over its -preserver.</p> - -<p>"No gratitude can be too great for such a service, and no mark of -gratitude too high." He glanced round to Markart, and called -good-humoredly, "You, Markart there, a chair for this lady!"</p> - -<p>Markart got a chair. Stenovics took it from him and himself prepared to -offer it to Sophy. But the King rose, took it, and with a low bow -presented it to the favored object of his gratitude. Sophy courtesied -low, the King waited till she sat. Countess Ellenburg bestowed on her a -smile of wintry congratulation.</p> - -<p>"But for you, these fellows might—or rather would, I think—have killed -my son in their blind drunkenness; it detracts in no way from your -service that they did not know whom they were attacking."</p> - -<p>There was a moment's silence. Sophy was still nervous in such company; -she was also uneasily conscious of a most intense gaze directed at her -by General Stenovics. But she spoke out.</p> - -<p>"They knew perfectly well, sir," she said.</p> - -<p>"They knew the Prince?" he asked sharply. "Why do you say that? It was -dark."</p> - -<p>"Not in the street, sir. The illuminations lit it up."</p> - -<p>"But they were very drunk."</p> - -<p>"They may have been drunk, but they knew the Prince. Captain Mistitch -called him by his name."</p> - -<p>"Stenovics!" The King's voice was full of surprise and question as he -turned to his Minister. The General was surprised, too, but very suave.</p> - -<p>"I can only say that I hear Mademoiselle de Gruche's words with -astonishment. Our accounts are not consistent with what she says. We -don't, of course, lay too much stress on the protestations of the two -prisoners, but Lieutenant Rastatz is clear that the street was decidedly -dark, and that they all three believed the man they encountered to be -Colonel Stafnitz of the Hussars. That officer much resembles his Royal -Highness in height and figure. In the dark the difference of uniform -would not be noticed—especially by men in their condition." He -addressed Sophy: "Mistitch had an old quarrel with Stafnitz; that's the -true origin of the affair." He turned to the King again. "That is -Rastatz's story, sir, as well as Mistitch's own—though Mistitch is, of -course, quite aware that his most unseemly, and indeed criminal, talk at -the Golden Lion seriously prejudices his case. But we have no reason to -distrust Rastatz."</p> - -<p>"Lieutenant Rastatz ran away only because he was afraid," Sophy -remarked.</p> - -<p>"He ran to bring help, mademoiselle," Stenovics corrected her, with a -look of gentle reproach. "You were naturally excited," he went on. -"Isn't it possible that your memory has played you a trick? Think -carefully. Two men's lives may depend on it."</p> - -<p>"I heard Captain Mistitch call the Prince 'Sergius Stefanovitch,'" said -Sophy.</p> - -<p>"This lady will be a most important witness," observed the King.</p> - -<p>"Very, sir," Stenovics assented dryly.</p> - -<p>Sophy had grown eager. "Doesn't the Prince say they knew him?"</p> - -<p>"His Royal Highness hasn't been asked for any account at present," -Stenovics answered.</p> - -<p>"If they knew who it was, they must die," said the King in evident -concern and excitement.</p> - -<p>Stenovics contented himself with a bow of obedience. The King rose and -gave Sophy his hand.</p> - -<p>"We shall hope to see you again soon," he said, very graciously. -"Meanwhile, General Stenovics has something to say to you in my name -which will, I trust, prove agreeable to you." His eyes dwelt on her face -for a moment as she took her leave.</p> - -<p>Stenovics made his communication later in the day, paying Sophy the high -compliment of a personal call at the sign of the Silver Cock for that -purpose. His manner was most cordial. Sophy was to receive an honorary -appointment in the Royal Household at an annual salary of ten thousand -paras, or some four hundred pounds.</p> - -<p>"It isn't riches—we aren't very rich in Kravonia—but it will, I hope, -make you comfortable and relieve you from the tiresome lessons which -Markart tells me you're now burdened with."</p> - -<p>Sophy was duly grateful, and asked what her appointment was.</p> - -<p>"It's purely honorary," he smiled. "You are to be Keeper of the -Tapestries."</p> - -<p>"I know nothing about tapestries," said Sophy, "but I dare say I can -learn; it'll be very interesting."</p> - -<p>Stenovics leaned back in his chair with an amused smile.</p> - -<p>"There aren't any tapestries," he said. "They were sold a good many -years ago."</p> - -<p>"Then why do you keep a—"</p> - -<p>"When you're older in the royal service, you'll see that it's convenient -to have a few sinecures," he told her, with a good-humored laugh. "See -how handy this one is now!"</p> - -<p>"But I shall feel rather an impostor."</p> - -<p>"Merely the novelty of it," he assured her consolingly.</p> - -<p>Sophy began to laugh, and the General joined in heartily. "Well, that's -settled," said he. "You make three or four appearances at Court, and -nothing more will be necessary. I hope you like your appointment?"</p> - -<p>Sophy laughed delightedly. "It's charming—and very amusing," she said. -"I'm getting very much interested in your country, General."</p> - -<p>"My country is returning your kind compliment, I can assure you," he -replied. His tone had grown dry, and he seemed to be watching her now. -She waved her hands towards the Virgin with the lamp: the massive figure -stood in its old place by the window.</p> - -<p>"What a lot I owe to her!" she cried.</p> - -<p>"We all owe much," said Stenovics.</p> - -<p>"The Prince thought some people might be angry with me—because Captain -Mistitch is a favorite."</p> - -<p>"Very possible, I'm afraid, very possible. But in this world we must do -our duty, and—"</p> - -<p>"Risk the consequences? Yes!"</p> - -<p>"If we can't control them, Mademoiselle de Gruche." He paused a moment, -and then went on: "The court-martial on Mistitch is convened for -Saturday. Sterkoff won't be well enough to be tried for another two or -three weeks."</p> - -<p>"I'm glad he's not dead, though if he recovers only to be shot—! Still, -I'm glad I didn't kill him."</p> - -<p>"Not by your hand," said Stenovics.</p> - -<p>"But you mean in effect? Well, I'm not ashamed. Surely they deserve -death."</p> - -<p>"Undoubtedly—if Rastatz is wrong—and your memory right."</p> - -<p>"The Prince's own story?"</p> - -<p>"He isn't committed to any story yet."</p> - -<p>Sophy rested her chin on her hand, and regarded her companion closely. -He did not avoid her glance.</p> - -<p>"You're wondering what I mean?—what I'm after?" he asked her, smiling -quietly. "Oh yes, I see you are. Go on wondering, thinking, watching -things about you for a day or two—there are three days between now and -Saturday. You'll see me again before Saturday—and I've no doubt you'll -see the Prince."</p> - -<p>"If Rastatz were right—and my memory wrong—?"</p> - -<p>He smiled still. "The offence against discipline would be so much less -serious. The Prince is a disciplinarian. To speak with all respect, he -forgets sometimes that discipline is, in the last analysis, only a part -of policy—a means, not an end. The end is always the safety and -tranquillity of the State." He spoke with weighty emphasis.</p> - -<p>"The offence against discipline! An attempt to assassinate—!"</p> - -<p>"I see you cling to your own memory—you won't have anything to say to -Rastatz!" He rose and bowed over her hand. "Much may happen between now -and Saturday. Look about you, watch, and think!"</p> - -<p>The General's final injunction, at least, Sophy lost no time in obeying; -and on the slightest thought three things were obvious: the King was -very grateful to her; Stenovics wished at any rate to appear very -grateful to her; and, for some reason or another, Stenovics wished her -memory to be wrong, to the end that the life of Mistitch and his -companion (the greater included the less) might be spared. Why did he -wish that?</p> - -<p>Presumably—his words about the relation of discipline to policy -supported the conclusion—to avoid that disturbance which the Prince had -forecasted as the result of Mistitch's being put to death. But the -Prince was not afraid of the disturbance—why should Stenovics be? The -Commandant was all confidence—was the Minister afraid? In some sense he -was afraid. That she accepted. But she hesitated to believe that he was -afraid in the common sense that he was either lacking in nerve or -overburdened with humanity, that he either feared fighting or would -shrink from a salutary severity in repressing tumult. If he feared, he -feared neither for his own skin nor for the skin of others; he feared -for his policy or his ambition.</p> - -<p>These things were nothing to her; she was for the Prince, for his policy -and his ambition. Were they the same as Stenovics's? Even a novice at -the game could see that this by no means followed of necessity. The King -was elderly, and went a-fishing. The Prince was young, and a martinet. -In age, Stenovics was between the two—nearly twenty years younger than -the King, a dozen or so older than the Prince. Under the present régime -he had matters almost entirely his own way. At first sight there was, of -a certainty, no reason why his ambitions should coincide precisely with -those of the Prince. Fifty-nine, forty-one, twenty-eight—the ages of -the three men in themselves illuminated the situation—that is, if -forty-one could manage fifty-nine, but had no such power over -twenty-eight.</p> - -<p>New to such meditations, yet with a native pleasure in them, taking to -the troubled waters as though born a swimmer, Sophy thought, and -watched, and looked about. As to her own part she was clear. Whether -Rastatz was right—whether that most vivid and indelible memory of hers -was wrong—were questions which awaited the sole determination of the -Prince of Slavna.</p> - -<p>Her attitude would have been unchanged, but her knowledge much -increased, could she have been present at a certain meeting on the -terrace of the Hôtel de Paris that same evening. Markart was there—and -little Rastatz, whose timely flight and accommodating memory rendered -him to-day not only a free man but a personage of value. But neither did -more than wait on the words of the third member of the party—that -Colonel Stafnitz of the Hussars who had an old feud with Mistitch, for -whom Mistitch had mistaken the Prince of Slavna. A most magnanimous, -forgiving gentleman, apparently, this spare, slim-built man with -thoughtful eyes; his whole concern was to get Mistitch out of the mess! -The feud he seemed to remember not at all; it was a feud of convenience, -a feud to swear to at the court-martial. He was as ready to accommodate -Stenovics with the use of his name as Rastatz was to offer the -requisite modifications of his memory. But there—with that supply of a -convenient fiction—his pliability stopped. He spoke to Markart, using -him as a conduit-pipe—the words would flow through to General -Stenovics.</p> - -<p>"If the General doesn't want to see me now—and I can understand that he -mustn't be caught confabbing with any supposed parties to the -affair—you must make it plain to him how matters stand. Somehow and by -some means our dear Hercules must be saved. Hercules is an ass; but so -are most of the men—and all the rowdies of Slavna. They love their -Hercules, and they won't let him die without a fight—and a very big -fight. In that fight what might happen to his Royal Highness the -Commandant? And if anything did happen to him, what might happen to -General Stenovics? I don't know that either, but it seems to me that -he'd be in an awkward place. The King wouldn't be pleased with him; and -we here in Slavna—are we going to trouble ourselves about the man who -couldn't save our Hercules?"</p> - -<p>Round-faced Markart nodded in a perplexed fashion. Stafnitz clapped him -on the shoulder with a laugh.</p> - -<p>"For Heaven's sake don't think about it or you'll get it all mixed! Just -try to remember it. Your only business is to report what I say to the -General."</p> - -<p>Rastatz sniggered shrilly. When the wine was not in him, he was a -cunning little rogue—a useful tool in any matter which did not ask for -courage.</p> - -<p>"If I'd been here, Mistitch wouldn't have done the thing at all—or done -it better. But what's done is done. And we expect the General to stand -by us. If he won't, we must act for ourselves—for there'll be no -bearing our dear Commandant if we sit down under the death of Mistitch. -In short, the men won't stand it." He tapped Markart's arm. "The General -must release unto us Barabbas!"</p> - -<p>The man's easy self-confidence, his air of authority, surprised neither -of his companions. If there were a good soldier besides the Commandant -in Slavna, Stafnitz was the man; if there were a head in Kravonia cooler -than Stenovics's, it was on the shoulders of Stafnitz. He was the brain -to Mistitch's body—the mind behind Captain Hercules's loud voice and -brawny fist.</p> - -<p>"Tell him not to play his big stake on a bad hand. Mind you tell him -that."</p> - -<p>"His big stake, Colonel?" asked Markart. "What do I understand by that?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing; and you weren't meant to. But tell Stenovics—he'll -understand."</p> - -<p>Rastatz laughed his rickety giggle again.</p> - -<p>"Rastatz does that to make you think he understands better than you do. -Be comforted—he doesn't." Rastatz's laugh broke out again, but now -forced and uneasy. "And the girl who knocked Sterkoff out of time—I -wish she'd killed the stupid brute—what about her, Markart?"</p> - -<p>"She's—er—a very remarkable person, Colonel."</p> - -<p>"Er—is she? I must make her acquaintance. Good-bye, Markart."</p> - -<p>Markart had meant to stay for half an hour, but he went.</p> - -<p>"Good-bye, Rastatz."</p> - -<p>Rastatz had just ordered another <i>liqueur</i>; but, without waiting to -drink it, he too went. Stafnitz sat on alone, smoking his cigar. There -were no signs of care on his face. Though not gay, it was calm and -smooth; no wrinkles witnessed to worry, nor marred the comely remains -of youth which had survived his five and thirty years.</p> - -<p>He finished his cigar, drank his coffee, and rose to go. Then he looked -carefully round the terrace, distinguished the prettiest woman with a -momentarily lingering look, made his salute to a brother officer, and -strolled away along the boulevard.</p> - -<p>Before he reached the barracks in St. Michael's Square he met a woman -whose figure pleased him; she was tall and lithe, moving with a free -grace. But over her face she wore a thick veil. The veil no doubt -annoyed him; but he was to have other opportunities of seeing Sophy's -face.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI</h2> - -<h3>"IMPOSSIBLE" OR "IMMEDIATE"?</h3> - - -<p>Stenovics was indeed in a quandary. Mistitch had precipitated an -unwelcome and premature crisis. The Minister's deliberate, slow-moving -game was brought to a sudden issue which he was not ready to face. It -had been an essential feature—a governing rule—of his campaign to -avoid any open conflict with the Prince of Slavna until an occasion -arose on which both the army and the King would be on his side. The King -was a power not merely by reason of his cheaply won popularity, but also -because he was, while he lived, the only man who could crown Stenovics's -operations with the consummation to which the Minister and his ally, -Countess Ellenburg, looked forward with distant yet sanguine hope. The -army was with him now, but the other factor was lacking. The King's -pride, as well as his affection, was enlisted in his son's interest. -Moreover, this occasion was very bad.</p> - -<p>Mistitch was no better than an assassin; to take up arms on his behalf -was to fight in a cause plainly disgraceful—one which would make -success very difficult and smirch it forever and beyond remedy, even if -it came. It was no cause in which to fight both Prince and King. That -would be playing the big stake on a bad hand—as Stafnitz put it.</p> - -<p>Yet the alternative? Stafnitz, again, had put that clearly. The army -would have no more to do with the man who could not help it at the -pinch, who could not save its favorite, who could not release Barabbas.</p> - -<p>The Prince seemed to be in his most unyielding mood—the Bourbon in him -was peeping out. For the honor of the Royal House, and for the sake of -discipline, Mistitch must die. He had packed his court-martial with the -few trustworthy friends he had among the officers, using the -justification which jury-packers always use—and sometimes have. He had -no fear of the verdict—and no heed for its unpopularity. He knew the -danger—Stenovics made no secret about that—but said plainly that he -would sooner be beaten by a mutiny than yield to the threat of one. The -first meant for him defeat, perhaps death, but not dishonor, nor -ignominy. The more Stenovics prophesied—or threatened—a revolt of the -troops, the more the Commandant stiffened his neck.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, Slavna waited in ominous, sullen quiet, and the atmosphere -was so stormy that King Alexis had no heart for fishing.</p> - -<p>On Friday morning—the day before that appointed for Mistitch's -trial—the names of the members of the Court were published; the list -met with the reception which was, no doubt, anticipated even by the -Prince himself. The streets began to fill with loiterers, talkers, and -watchers; barrack-rooms were vociferous with grumbling and with -speculation. Stafnitz, with Rastatz always at his heels, was busy with -many interviews; Stenovics sat in his room, moodily staring before him, -seeking a road out of his blind alley; and a carriage drew up before the -sign of the Silver Cock as the Cathedral bells chimed noon. It was empty -inside, but by the driver sat Peter Vassip, the Prince's personal -attendant, wearing the sheepskin coat, leather breeches, and high boots -that the men of the hills wore. His business was to summon Sophy to -Suleiman's Tower.</p> - -<p>The Square of St. Michael was full of life and bustle, the Golden Lion -did a fine trade. But the centre of interest was on the north wall and -the adjacent quays, under the shadow of Suleiman's Tower. Within those -walls were the two protagonists. Thence the Prince issued his orders; -thither Mistitch had been secretly conveyed the night before by a party -of the Prince's own guard, trustworthy Volsenians.</p> - -<p>A crowd of citizens and soldiers was chattering and staring at the Tower -when Sophy's carriage drew up at the entrance of the bridge which, -crossing the North River, gave access to the fort. The mouth of the -bridge was guarded by fifty of those same Volsenians. They had but to -retreat and raise the bridge behind them, and Mistitch was safe in the -trap. Only—and the crowd was quick enough to understand the -situation—the prisoner's trap could be made a snare for his jailer, -too. Unless provisions could be obtained from the country round, it -would be impossible to hold the Tower for long against an enemy -controlling the butchers' and bakers' shops of Slavna. Yet it could be -held long enough to settle the business of Captain Hercules.</p> - -<p>The shadow of the weeping woman had passed from Sophy's spirit; the sad -impression was never the lasting one with her. An hour of crisis always -found her gay. She entered the time-worn walls of Suleiman's Tower with -a thrill of pleasure, and followed Peter Vassip up the narrow stair with -a delighted curiosity. The Prince received her in the large round room, -which constituted the first floor of the central tower. Its furniture -was simple, almost rude, its massive walls quite bare save for some -pieces of ancient armor. Narrow slits, deep-set in the masonry, served -for windows and gave a view of the city and of the country round on -every side; they showed the seething throng on the north wall and on the -quays; the distant sound of a thousand voices struck the ear.</p> - -<p>Zerkovitch and his wife were with the Prince, seated over a simple meal, -at which Sophy joined them. Marie had watched Sophy's entrance and the -Prince's greeting closely; she marked Sophy's excitement betrayed in the -familiar signal on her cheek. But the journalist was too excited on his -own account to notice other people. He was talking feverishly, throwing -his lean body about, and dashing his hands up and down; he hardly paused -to welcome the newcomer. He had a thousand plans by which the Prince was -to overcome and hold down Slavna. One and all, they had the same defect; -they supposed the absence of the danger which they were contrived to -meet. They assumed that the soldiers would obey the Commandant, even -with the sound of the rifles which had shot Mistitch fresh in their -ears.</p> - -<p>The Prince listened good-humoredly to his enthusiastic but highly -unpractical adherent; but his mind did not follow the talk. Sophy -hearkened with the eagerness of a novice—and he watched her face. Marie -watched his, remembering how she had prayed Sophy not to come to Slavna. -Sophy was here—and Fate had thrown her across the Prince's path. With a -woman's preference for the personal, Marie was more occupied with this -situation than with the temper of the capital or the measures of the -Prince.</p> - -<p>At last their host roused himself, and patted Zerkovitch's shoulder -indulgently.</p> - -<p>"Well, it's good not to fear," he said. "We didn't fear the other night, -Mademoiselle de Gruche and I. And all ended well!"</p> - -<p>"Ended?" Marie murmured, half under her breath.</p> - -<p>The Prince laughed. "You sha'n't make me afraid," he told her, "any more -than Zerkovitch shall make me trust Colonel Stafnitz. I can't say more -than that." He turned to Sophy. "I think you'd better stay here till we -see what's going to happen to-night—and our friends here will do the -same. If all's quiet, you can go home to sleep. If not, we can give you -quarters—rough ones, I'm afraid." He rose from the table and went to a -window. "The crowd's thinner; they've gone off to eat and drink. We -shall have one quiet hour, at all events."</p> - -<p>An orderly entered and gave him a letter.</p> - -<p>He read it, and said: "Tell General Stenovics I will receive him here at -two o'clock." When the messenger had gone, he turned round towards the -table. "A last appeal, I suppose! With all the old arguments! But the -General has nothing to give in exchange for Mistitch. My price would be -very high."</p> - -<p>"No price! no price!" cried fiery Zerkovitch. "He raised his sword -against you! He must die!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, he must die." He turned to the window again. Sophy rose from the -table and joined him there, looking over the city. Directly beneath was -the great gate, flanked on either side by broad, massive walls, which -seemed to grow out of the waters of the river. He was aware of her -movement, though he had not looked round at her. "I've brought you, too, -into this trouble—you, a stranger," he said.</p> - -<p>"You don't think I'm sorry for that?"</p> - -<p>"No. But it makes my impotence worse." He waved his arm towards the -city. "There it is—here am I! And yet—I'm powerless!"</p> - -<p>Sophy followed his gesture, and understood what was passing in his -mind—the pang of the soldier without his armament, the workman without -his tools. Their midnight talk flashed back into recollection. She -remembered his bitter complaint. Under her breath, and with a sigh, she -whispered: "If you had the big guns now!"</p> - -<p>Low as the whisper was, he heard it—and it seemed to shoot through his -brain. He turned sharply round on her and gazed full into her eyes. So -he stood a moment, then quickly returned to the table and sat down. -Sophy followed, her gaze fixed on his face. Zerkovitch ceased -writing—he had been drawing up another plan; both he and Marie now -watched the Prince. Moments went by in silence.</p> - -<p>At last the Prince spoke—in a low voice, almost dreamy. "My guns for -Mistitch! Mistitch against my guns! That would be a price—a fair -price!"</p> - -<p>The three sat silent. The Zerkovitches, too, had heard him talk of the -guns: how on them hung the tranquillity of the city, and how on them -might hang the country's honor and existence. Stenovics could give them, -if he would, in return for Mistitch. But to give up Mistitch was a great -surrender. Sophy's whisper, almost involuntary, the voicing of a regret, -hardly even of a distant aspiration, had raised a problem of conduct, a -question of high policy. The Prince's brain was busy with it, and his -mind perplexed. Sophy sat watching him, not thinking now, but waiting, -conscious only that by what seemed almost chance a new face had, through -her, been put on the situation.</p> - -<p>Suddenly Zerkovitch brought his clinched fist down on the table. "No!" -he almost shouted. "They'll think you're afraid!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, they'll think that—but not all of them. Stenovics will know -better—and Stafnitz, too. They'll know I do it, not because I'm afraid, -but in order that I never need be."</p> - -<p>"Then Stenovics won't give them!" cried Marie.</p> - -<p>"I think he must give anything or everything for Mistitch." He rose and -paced restlessly about the room. Sophy still followed him with her eyes, -but she alone of the three offered no argument and made no suggestion. -The Prince stood still for a moment in deep thought. Then his face -cleared. He came quickly up to Sophy, took her hand, and kissed it.</p> - -<p>"Thank you," he said. "I don't know how it will turn out for me; the -case is too difficult for me to be able to foresee that. For me it may -be mastery—I always thought it would mean that. Or perhaps, somehow, it -may turn to ruin." He pressed Sophy's hand now and smiled at her. She -understood and returned his smile. "But the question isn't one of my -interest. My duty is plain."</p> - -<p>He walked quickly to his writing-table and unlocked a drawer. He -returned to the table with an envelope in his hand, and sat down between -Marie and Zerkovitch.</p> - -<p>The orderly entered again, announcing Stenovics. "Let him come in here," -said the Prince. His manner grew lighter, and the smile which had -comforted Sophy remained on his face.</p> - -<p>Stenovics came in; his air was nervous, and he looked at the Prince's -three companions with a visible access of embarrassment. At a nod from -the Prince, the orderly placed a chair for the General, and withdrew.</p> - -<p>"The same matter we discussed last night, General?"</p> - -<p>"There can be but one matter in the thoughts of all of us now, sir. -Pardon me—I understood your Royal Highness would receive me alone."</p> - -<p>The Prince gave a low laugh. "When one bargains, shouldn't one have -witnesses?"</p> - -<p>In an instant Stenovics laid hold of the significant word; it made him -forget his request for privacy. An eager light came into his eyes.</p> - -<p>"Bargains? You're ready now to—?"</p> - -<p>"<i>La nuit porte conseil.</i>" He drew a paper from the envelope, unfolded -it, and handed it across the table. "You remember that—a memorandum I -sent to you three months ago—in my capacity as Commandant?"</p> - -<p>Stenovics looked at the paper. "I remember, sir."</p> - -<p>"It's indorsed in your hand?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"The indorsement runs: 'Impossible.' Rather curt, General!"</p> - -<p>"The note was for my private use, but your Royal Highness particularly -pressed for the return of the document."</p> - -<p>"I did. And, after all, why use more words than necessary? One will -still be enough—but not that one."</p> - -<p>"I'm not following you, sir," said Stenovics.</p> - -<p>The Prince leaned across the table to him. "In our conversation, last -night, you asked me to do a very remarkable thing, and to get this lady -here" (he indicated Sophy) "to do it, too. You remember? We were to -think that, at night, in the Street of the Fountain, in the light of the -illuminations, Sergius Stefanovitch and Nikolas Stafnitz looked—and -sounded—just the same. I didn't see my way to that, and I didn't think -this lady would see hers. It seemed so difficult."</p> - -<p>Stenovics was in a strain of close attention. The paper from the -envelope crackled under the trembling of his hand.</p> - -<p>"Now, if we had such a memory as Lieutenant Rastatz is happy enough to -possess!" the Prince pursued. "Or if Colonel Stafnitz had taken us into -his confidence about his quarrel with Captain Mistitch! All that was not -so last night. Consequently, Captain Mistitch must be tried and shot, -instead of suffering some not very severe disciplinary punishment, for -brawling in the street and having a quarrel with his superior officer."</p> - -<p>Stenovics marked every word, and understood the implied offer. The offer -was good enough; Stafnitz himself would not and could not ask that no -notice whatever should be taken. The trifling nature of the punishment -would in itself be a great victory. But the price? He was to hear that -in a moment.</p> - -<p>"Sergius Stefanovitch—Nikolas Stafnitz! Which was it, General? It's -only changing two words, yet what a difference it makes!"</p> - -<p>"The difference of peace to-night or—" Stenovics waved his hand towards -the city. But the Prince interrupted him.</p> - -<p>"Never mind that," he said, rather sharply. "That's not first in my -mind, or I should have left the matter where it rested last night. I was -thinking of the difference to Captain Mistitch—and perhaps to you, -General."</p> - -<p>He looked full at Stenovics, and the General's eyes fell. The Prince -pointed his finger across the table at the paper under Stenovics's -hand.</p> - -<p>"I'm a liberal bargainer," he said, "and I offer you a good margin of -profit. I'll change two words if you'll change one—two for you against -one for me! 'Sergius Stefanovitch' becomes 'Nikolas Stafnitz' if -'Impossible' becomes 'Immediate.'"</p> - -<p>Stenovics gave one slight start, then leaned back in his chair and -looked past the Prince out of the window opposite to him.</p> - -<p>"Make that change, and we'll settle details afterwards. I must have full -guarantees. I must see the order sent, and the money deposited in my -name and at my disposal."</p> - -<p>"This afternoon, sir?"</p> - -<p>"Wouldn't it be well to release Captain Mistitch from Suleiman's Tower -before to-night?"</p> - -<p>"The money is difficult to-day."</p> - -<p>"The release will be impossible to-morrow."</p> - -<p>Again Stenovics's eyes wandered to the window, and a silence followed. -Perhaps he saw the big guns already in position, dominating the city; -perhaps he listened to the hum of voices which again began to swell in -volume from the wall and from the quays. There are times when a man must -buy the present with a mortgage on the future, however onerous the terms -may be. It was danger against destruction. He put out his hand and took -from Zerkovitch a quill which the journalist was twiddling in his -fingers. He made a scratch and a scribble on the paper which the Prince -had taken from the envelope.</p> - -<p>"'Impossible' has become 'Immediate,' sir."</p> - -<p>"And 'Sergius Stefanovitch' 'Nikolas Stafnitz,'" said the Prince. He -looked at Sophy for confirmation, and she softly clapped her hands.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII</h2> - -<h3>THE BARONESS GOES TO COURT</h3> - - -<p>The troops of the garrison and their allies, the scum of the streets, -thought that they had scored a great victory and inflicted deep -humiliation on the unpopular martinet who ruled and harried them. They -celebrated the event with noisy but harmless revels, and when Captain -Hercules was seen about again (he submitted to a fortnight's confinement -to barracks with feelings in which thankfulness, though not gratitude, -predominated), he found his popularity with them greater than ever. But -in the higher circles—the inner ring—of the party he served, his -reception was not so cordial. Stenovics would not see him; Stafnitz saw -him only to express a most uncompromising judgment on his conduct.</p> - -<p>Yielding in appearance, in point of substance the Prince of Slavna had -scored heavily. The big guns were ordered from Germany. The Prince had -the money to pay for them, and they were to be consigned to him; these -were the guarantees which he had asked from Stenovics. When the guns -came—and he had agreed to make an extra payment for early delivery—his -situation would be very different. With trusty men behind them, it would -go hard with him if he were not master of Slavna, and he had already -obtained the King's sanction to raise and train a force of artillery -from among his own men in Volseni and its neighborhood. The men of -Volseni were proof against Mistitch's bragging and the subtle indulgence -by which Stafnitz held his power over the rank and file of the army. -They were true to the Prince.</p> - -<p>The idle King's family pride was touched; it was the one thing which -could rouse him. At his son's express request—and at that only—he -acquiesced in the release of Mistitch and his satellite Sterkoff; but he -was determined to make his own attitude clear and to do what he could to -restore the prestige of his family. The Prince said dryly that the -prestige would profit best of all by the big guns; the King was minded -to supplement their effect by something more ornate. He created a new -Order, and made his son Grand Master of it. There was no harm in that, -and Stenovics readily consented. He declared that something more must be -done for the lady to whom his son owed his life; to be made Keeper of -the Tapestries might be a convenient recompense, but was not honor -enough. Stenovics declared that any mark of favor which His Majesty -designed for Mademoiselle de Gruche might most properly be hers. -Finally, the King instructed Stenovics to concentrate all his energies -on the matrimonial negotiations. A splendid marriage would enhance and -strengthen the prestige more than anything else. Stenovics promised -zealous obedience, and withdrew full of thought. The Order was an easy -matter, and honors for Sophy did no harm. The marriage was ground much -more delicate. It touched the "big stake" which Colonel Stafnitz had so -emphatically warned the General not to play on the bad hand dealt to him -by Mistitch's blundering. But with the big guns in position, and the -sturdy men of Volseni behind them—would a good hand ever come?</p> - -<p>There were but three in the inner secret of the scheme, but they were -three of the longest heads in Kravonia. Countess Ellenburg was a pious -woman and of exemplary demeanor; but (as Markart told Sophy) women are -ambitious, and she had borne the King a son. Stenovics saw himself cast -aside like an old glove if Prince Sergius came to the throne. Stafnitz -was a born fisher in troubled waters, and threw a skilful net. Twice -before in the country's history, intrigue had made revolution, and -changed the order of succession in the House of Stefanovitch. The three -waited on chance, but the chance was not yet. If the King were at enmity -with his son, or if there were a demise of the Crown while the Prince -was not on the spot to look after his interests, there might lie the -opportunity. But now the King was all cordiality for his Heir Apparent, -the Prince was on the spot; the guns and their Volsenian gunners -threatened to be on the spot, too, ere long. It was not now the moment -for the big stake.</p> - -<p>King Alexis was delighted with his new Order, and the Grand Master's -insignia were very handsome. In the centre of a five-pointed star St. -Michael slew the Dragon—a symbol, perhaps, of Captain Mistitch! The -broad ribbon was of virgin white; it would show up well against either -the black sheepskin of the Volsenian tunic or the bright blue of the -Prince's hussar uniform. There were, some day, to be five other Knights; -with the Grand Master and the Sovereign himself the mystic number Seven -would be reached—but it would never be exceeded; the Order would be -most select. All this the King explained in a florid speech, gleeful -with his new toy, while the serious folks listened with a respectful -deference and a secret smile. "If he would make order, instead of -Orders!" thought the Prince; and probably Colonel Stafnitz, in -attendance as his Majesty's aide-de-camp, had thoughts not very -different. Yet, even toys take on a significance when grown-up people -play with them. Countess Ellenburg was not pleased that only one -appointment should be made to the Order of St. Michael. Was it not time -that the pretty boy Alexis wore a Star?</p> - -<p>The King had not done yet; there was honor for the Prince's friends, -too; men should know that service to the Royal House was meritorious in -proportion to the illustrious position of that House. Zerkovitch stood -forward and was made Chevalier of the Cross of Kravonia. The occasion -cost Zerkovitch the price of a Court suit, but for Marie's sake he bore -the outlay patiently. Then the King, having refreshed himself with a -draught which his valet Lepage brought him, turned to his most pleasing -task. The Keeper of the Tapestries was called from her place in the -circle beside Marie Zerkovitch. Colonel Stafnitz had not noticed her -standing there, but now he gave a little start; the figure seemed -familiar. He turned his head round to Markart, who was just behind him. -"Yes, that's her," Markart whispered in answer to the question in the -Colonel's eyes. The eyes flew back to Sophy instantly. There, too, was -set the gaze of Countess Ellenburg. For Sophy was in full beauty that -day. She, too, loved toys; and her ancient hatred of the name to which -she had been born must be remembered. Her eyes glowed, and the Red Star -glowed on her cheek. All her air was triumphant as she courtesied to the -King, and then stood, erect and proud, to hear his gracious words.</p> - -<p>Gracious his words were for her deed, and gracious his smile for her -comely beauty. He could at least look a king—no man denied him -that—and speak in kingly phrases. "A service unmatched in courage, and -immeasurable in importance to us and our Royal House, the preservation -of our dearly loved son and only Heir." (Countess Ellenburg looked down -her nose at that!) For such an act did he confer a patent of nobility on -Sophy, and for greater honor gave her, as title the name of one of his -own estates, together with a charge on its revenues equal to her new -dignity.</p> - -<p>He ended and sank back in his chair. Her Prince came forward and kissed -her hand before them all. Countess Ellenburg bowed condescendingly. A -decorous murmur of applause filled the hall as, with shining eyes, -Sophia, Baroness Dobrava, courtesied again very low.</p> - -<p>So, as Sophy Grouch had gone, went Sophie de Gruche!</p> - -<p>"She's delighted—poor child!" whispered Marie Zerkovitch; but only -Julia Robins, in England far away, heard the full torrent of Sophy's -simple, child-like exultation. Such a letter went to her that -night!—but there was stuff in it besides the Baroness's pæan.</p> - -<p>Suddenly a childish voice rang out clear through the hall—a fearless, -eager little voice.</p> - -<p>"What's that you've got on your cheek?" asked young Alexis, with -engaging candor; his finger pointed at Sophy's face.</p> - -<p>So quaint an interruption to the stately formality of the scene struck -people's sense of humor. Everybody laughed—even Countess Ellenburg. -Sophy's own laugh rose rich and merry. Her ignorance or carelessness of -etiquette betrayed itself; she darted at the pretty boy, caught him in -her arms, and kissed him, answering: "That's my luck—my Red Star."</p> - -<p>The boy touched the mark with his finger; a look of childish awe came -into his blue eyes.</p> - -<p>"Your luck!" he said, softly, and continued to look at the mysterious -sign after Sophy had set him down again. The little scene was told all -over Slavna before night—and men and women talked, according to their -temper, of the nature and the meaning of the Red Star. If only the -foolish think about such things, even the wise talk.</p> - -<p>The King left his chair and mingled with his guests. His movement was -the signal for a general relaxation of ceremony. The Prince came across -the room and joined Sophy, who had returned to Marie Zerkovitch's side. -He offered the Baroness his congratulations, but in somewhat constrained -tones. His mind seemed to be on something else; once or twice he looked -inquiringly at Marie, who in her turn showed signs of restlessness or -distress. A silence followed on Sophy's expression of her -acknowledgments. The Prince glanced again at Marie and made up his mind -to speak.</p> - -<p>"You've done me the kindness I asked?" he inquired of Marie.</p> - -<p>Marie picked at the feathers of her fan in unhappy embarrassment. "No, -sir, I haven't. I—I couldn't."</p> - -<p>"But why not?" he asked in surprise.</p> - -<p>"I—I couldn't," repeated Marie, flushing.</p> - -<p>He looked at her gravely for a moment, then smiled. "Then I must plead -my own cause," he said, and turned to Sophy. "Next week I'm leaving -Slavna and going to my Castle of Praslok. It's near Volseni, you know, -and I want to raise and train my gunners at Volseni. We must be ready -for our guns when they come, mustn't we?"</p> - -<p>His eyes met hers—eager glance exchanged for glance as eager. "Our -guns!" whispered Sophy under her breath.</p> - -<p>"Marie here and Zerkovitch have promised to come with me. He'll write -what ought to be written, and she'll cook the dinners." He laughed. "Oh, -well, we do live very simply at Praslok. We shall be there three months -at least. I asked Marie to persuade you to come with her and to stay as -long as you could. But she's disappointed me. I must plead for myself."</p> - -<p>The changing expressions of Sophy's eyes had marked every sentence of -his speech, and Marie marked every expression of the eyes. They had -grown forlorn and apprehensive when he spoke of leaving Slavna; a sudden -joy leaped into them at his invitation to Praslok.</p> - -<p>"You'll come for a little? The scenery is very fine, and the people -interesting."</p> - -<p>Sophy gave a low laugh. "Since the scenery is fine and the people -interesting—yes, Monseigneur."</p> - -<p>Their eyes met again, and he echoed back her laugh. Marie Zerkovitch -drew in her breath sharply. With swift insight she saw—and foresaw. She -remembered the presentiment, under whose influence she had begged Sophy -not to come to Kravonia. But fate had weighted the scales heavily -against her. The Baroness Dobrava was here.</p> - -<p>The Prince turned to Marie with a puzzled look. Sophy was lost in glad -anticipations. Marie met the Prince's look with a deprecating imploring -glance. He frowned a little—not in anger, but in puzzle; what she -foresaw he himself had not yet divined; he was feeling the joy without -understanding it.</p> - -<p>"At any rate you're not responsible now if we do freeze her to death -with our mountain snows," he said in a jest which veiled friendly -reproach.</p> - -<p>"No, at least I'm not responsible," Marie answered.</p> - -<p>There was a note in her voice now which commanded even Sophy's -pre-engaged attention. She looked sharply at her friend—and perhaps she -understood. But she did not yield to the suggestion. She drew herself up -proudly. "I'm not afraid of what may happen to me at Praslok, -Monseigneur," she said.</p> - -<p>A simultaneous exclamation of many voices broke across their talk. At -the other end of the room, men and women pressed into a circle round -some point of interest which could not be seen by Sophy and her -companions. A loud voice rang out in authoritative tones: "Stand back! -Stand back—and open all the windows!"</p> - -<p>"That's Natcheff's voice," said the Prince. Natcheff was the leading -physician of Slavna. "Somebody's fainted, I suppose. Well, the place is -stuffy enough!"</p> - -<p>Markart emerged from the circle, which had widened out in obedience to -the physician's orders. As he hurried past the Prince, he said: "The -King has fainted, sir. I'm going to fetch Lepage." Two or three other -men ran and opened the windows.</p> - -<p>"The King fainted! I never knew him do that before."</p> - -<p>He hastened to where his father lay, the subject of Natcheff's -ministrations. Sophy and Marie followed in his wake through the opening -which the onlookers made for him. The King showed signs of recovering, -but Natcheff's face was grave beyond even the requirements of his -profession or of his patient's rank. The next moment Lepage came up. -This man, the King's body-servant, was a small, plump person, who had -generally a weary, impassive, uninterested manner. He looked rather -uninterested even now, but his walk was very quick, and he was soon -aiding Natcheff with deft and nimble fingers.</p> - -<p>"This is strange, Lepage," said Natcheff.</p> - -<p>Lepage did not look up from his task.</p> - -<p>"Has it ever happened before?"</p> - -<p>Then Lepage did look up. He appeared to consider and to hesitate. He -glanced once at the King before he answered.</p> - -<p>"It's the third attack in two months," he said, at last.</p> - -<p>"You never told me!" The words shot sharp from Natcheff's lips.</p> - -<p>"That was by His Majesty's peremptory orders. He'll be angry that I've -told you now."</p> - -<p>"Clear the room!" ordered Natcheff, shortly.</p> - -<p>Slavna had plenty to talk about that night. Besides the Baroness -Dobrava's Red Star, there was the fainting fit of King Alexis! The -evening bulletin was entirely favorable; the King had quite recovered. -But many had heard Lepage's confession and seen the look that it brought -to Natcheff's face.</p> - -<p>Stenovics and Stafnitz rode back from the Palace to the city side by -side. The General was silent, immersed in deep thought. Stafnitz smoked -his cigarette with a light, rather mocking smile. At last, when they -were almost opposite the terrace of the Hôtel de Paris, Stenovics spoke.</p> - -<p>"It looks like the handwriting on the wall," he said.</p> - -<p>"Quite so, General," Stafnitz agreed, cheerfully. "But at present -there's no evidence to show to whom, besides the King himself, the -message is addressed."</p> - -<p>"Or what it says?"</p> - -<p>"I think that's plain enough, General. I think it says that the time is -short."</p> - -<p>He watched his companion's face closely now. But Stenovics's mask was -stolid and unmoved; he said nothing; he contented himself with a sullen -grunt.</p> - -<p>"Short for the King!" pursued Stafnitz, with a shake of his head. "Short -for the Prince, perhaps! And certainly, General, uncomfortably short for -us!"</p> - -<p>Stenovics grunted again, and then rode on some while in silence. At -last, just as he was about to part from his companion, he made one -observation:</p> - -<p>"Fortunately Natcheff is a friend of mine; we shall get the best -possible information."</p> - -<p>"That might become of importance, no doubt, General," said Stafnitz, -smiling still.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII</h2> - -<h3>MONSEIGNEUR'S UNIFORM</h3> - - -<p>Dr. Natcheff amply reassured public opinion. What information he gave to -General Stenovics, his friend, is another matter, and remained locked in -that statesman's heart. Publicly and to everybody else, from the Prince -of Slavna downward, he declared that there was no ground for -apprehension, and that the King merely needed rest and change; after a -few days of the former it was proposed to seek the latter by moving the -Court to His Majesty's country-seat at Dobrava—that estate from which -Sophy had been graciously bidden to choose her title. Meanwhile, there -was no reason why the Prince should not carry out his intention, and -proceed to the Castle of Praslok.</p> - -<p>Below Slavna, the main post-road—as has already been stated, there was -no railway at this time—follows the course of the River Krath for about -five miles in a southeasterly direction. It is then carried across the -stream (which continues to trend to the south) by an ancient wooden -bridge, and runs northeast for another fifteen miles, through flat -country, and past prosperous agricultural and pastoral villages, till it -reaches the marshy land bordering Lake Talti. The lake, extending from -this point to the spurs of the mountain-range which forms the frontier, -bars its farther direct progress, and it divides into two branches. The -right prong of the fork continues on the level till it reaches Dobrava, -eight miles from the point of bisection; here it inclines to the -northeast again, and, after some ten miles of steady ascent, crosses the -mountains by St. Peter's Pass, the one carriage-road over the range and -over the frontier. The left prong becomes a steep ascent directly the -bisection has occurred, rising sharply for five miles to the hill on -which the Castle of Praslok stands. Then it runs for another five miles -on a high plateau till it ends at the hill city of Volseni, which stands -on the edge of the plateau, looking down on Lake Talti and across to -Dobrava in the plain opposite.</p> - -<p>Beyond Volseni there is no road in the proper sense, but only cart or -bridle-tracks. Of these the principal and most frequented runs -diagonally across the valley in which Lake Talti lies, is interrupted by -the lake (at that point about a mile and a half wide), and then meets -the road from Dobrava half-way up St. Peter's Pass, and about twenty -miles across-country from Volseni. It thus forms the base of a rough and -irregular triangle of country, with the point where the Slavna road -bisects, the Pass and Volseni marking its three angles. Lake Talti is -set in the middle, backed by a chain of hills continuous everywhere -except at the indentation of the Pass.</p> - -<p>Though so near to Slavna in actual distance, the country is very -different from the fertile river-valley which surrounds the capital; it -is bleak and rough, a land of hill pastures and mountain woods. Its -natural features are reflected in the character of the inhabitants. The -men who count Volseni a local capital are hardier than the men of -Slavna, less given to luxury, less addicted to quarrels and riots, but -considerably more formidable opponents if once they take up arms. For -this reason, no less than on account of their devotion to him, the -Prince did well to choose this country as the recruiting-ground for his -new force of gunners.</p> - -<p>The Prince had been at Praslok for a week when Sophy set out to join him -there. At the last moment, Zerkovitch decided to remain in Slavna, at -least until the Court made its promised move to Dobrava: reassuring as -Dr. Natcheff was, it would do no harm to have a friendly pair of eyes -and ears in the capital so long as the King remained in residence. Thus -the two ladies were accompanied only by Peter Vassip, whom the Prince -had sent to escort them. They set out in a heavy travelling-carriage at -ten in the morning, reckoning to reach the Castle before evening fell; -their progress would never be rapid, and for the last five miles -exceedingly slow. They left the capital in complete tranquillity, and -when Sophy settled her bill at the sign of the Silver Cock, and bade -farewell to old Meyerstein, her landlord, he expressed the hope that she -would soon be back, though, indeed, his poor house was, he feared, no -fit quarters for the Baroness Dobrava.</p> - -<p>"I don't know whether I shall come back here, but I can never forget -your house. I shall always love it in my memory," said Sophy.</p> - -<p>Max von Hollbrandt had obtained leave of absence from his Legation, and -had accompanied the Prince to Praslok. The two were friends, having many -tastes in common, and not least the taste for soldiering. Besides having -the pleasure of his company, the Prince looked to obtain valuable aid -from Max in the task on which he was engaged. The young German was -amused and delighted with his expedition. Praslok is a primitive old -place. It stands on an abrupt mound, or knob, of ground by the -road-side. So steep and sudden is the ascent, that it was necessary to -build a massive causeway of wood—an inclined plane—to lead up from the -road to the gate of the square tower which forms the front of the -building; the causeway has cross-bars at short intervals, to give -foothold to the horses which, in old days, were stabled within the -walls. Recently, however, modern stables had been built on the other -side of the road, and it had become the custom to mount the causeway and -enter the Castle on foot.</p> - -<p>Within, the arrangements were quaint and very simple. Besides the tower -already mentioned, which contained the dining-room and two bedrooms -above it, the whole building, strictly conditioned by the shape of the -hill on which it stood, consisted of three rows of small rooms on the -ground-floor. In one row lived the Prince and his male guests, in the -second the servants, in the third the guard. The ladies were to be -accommodated in the tower above the dining-room. The rows of rooms -opened on a covered walk or cloister, which ran round the inner court of -the Castle. The whole was solidly built of gray stone—a business-like -old hill-fortress, strong by reason of its massive masonry and of the -position in which it stood. Considered as a modern residence—it had to -be treated humorously—so Max declared, and found much pleasure in it -from that point of view. The Prince, always indifferent to physical -comfort, and ever averse from luxury, probably did not realize how much -his ancestral stronghold demanded of his guests' indulgence. Old Vassip, -Peter's father, was major-domo—always in his sheepskin coat and high -boots. His old wife was cook. Half a dozen servants completed the -establishment, and of these three were grooms. The horses, in fact, -seemed to Max the only creatures whose comforts were at all on a modern -footing. But the Prince was entirely satisfied, and never so happy -anywhere as at Praslok. He loved the simple, hardy life; he loved even -more, though perhaps less consciously, the sense of being among friends. -He would not yield an inch to court popularity in Slavna; but his heart -went out to meet the unsought devotion of Volseni, the mountain town, -and its surrounding villages. Distant and self-restrained in Slavna, -here he was open, gay, and full of an almost boyish ardor.</p> - -<p>"It's worth coming here, just to see its effect on you," Max told him, -as the two rode back together from Volseni on the day of Sophy's -arrival. They had been at work, and the recruiting promised well.</p> - -<p>The Prince laughed gayly. "Coming here from Slavna is like fresh air -after an oven," he said. "No need to watch your tongue—or other -people's! You can laugh when you like, and frown when you like, without -a dozen people asking what's your motive for doing it."</p> - -<p>"But, really, you shouldn't have chosen a diplomatist for your -companion, sir, if you feel like that."</p> - -<p>"I haven't," he smiled. "I've left the diplomatist down there and -brought the soldier up. And now that the ladies are coming—"</p> - -<p>"Ah, now we must watch our tongues a little bit! Madame Zerkovitch is -very pretty—and the Baroness might make me absolutely poetical!"</p> - -<p>Least prying of men, yet Max von Hollbrandt could not resist sending -with this speech a glance at his companion—the visit of the Baroness -compelled this much tribute to curiosity. But the Prince's face was a -picture of unembarrassed pleasure.</p> - -<p>"Then be poetical! We'll all be poetical!" he cried, merrily. "In the -intervals of drilling, be it understood!" he added, with a laugh.</p> - -<p>Into this atmosphere, physical and moral—the exhilaration of keen -mountain breezes, the brightness of a winter sun, the play of high hopes -and of high spirit—came Sophy, with all her power of enjoying and her -ardor in imagining. Her mind leaped from the sad embraces of the past, -to fly to the arms of the present, to beckon gladly to the future. No -more than this had yet emerged into consciousness; she was not yet -asking how, for good or evil, she stood or was to stand towards the -Prince. Fortune had done wonderful things for her, and was doing more -yet. That was enough, and beyond that, for the moment, she was not -driven.</p> - -<p>The mixture of poetry and drilling suited her to perfection. She got -both when she rode over to Volseni with the Prince. Crisp snow covered -the ground, and covered, too, the roofs of the old, gray, hill-side -city—long, sloping roofs, with here and there a round-tower with a -snow-clad extinguisher atop. The town was no more than one long street, -which bayed out at the farther end into a market-place. It stood with -its back against a mountain-side, defended on the other three sides by a -sturdy wall, which only now, after five centuries, began to crumble away -at the top.</p> - -<p>At the city-gate bread and salt were brought to the Bailiff and his -companion, and she and he rode side by side down the long street to the -market-place. Here were two or three hundred, tall, fine fellows, -waiting their leader. Drill had not yet brought formality; on the sight -of him they gave a cheer and ran to form a ring about him. Many caught -his hand and pressed or kissed it. But Sophy, too, claimed their eyes. -It was very cold; she wore a short jacket of sable over her habit, and a -round cap of the same fur—gifts of Lady Meg's in the days of her -benevolence. She was at the pitch of pleasure and excitement.</p> - -<p>In a moment, a quick-witted fellow divined who she was. "The lady who -saved him! The lady who saved him!" he cried, at the full pitch of his -voice. The Prince drew himself up in the saddle and saluted her. "Yes, -the lady who saved me," he said. Sophy had the cheers now, and they -mounted to her head with fumes of intoxication. It may be guessed how -the Red Star glowed!</p> - -<p>"And you'll save him, if need be?" she cried—quite indiscreetly. The -Prince smiled and shook his head, but the answer was an enraptured -cheer. The hatred of Slavna was a recommendation to Volseni's increased -regard, the hint of danger a match to its fiery enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>"A favor, Bailiff, a favor!" cried a young man of distinguished -appearance. He seemed to be well known and to carry weight, for there -were shouts of "Hear Lukovitch! Hear Lukovitch!"—and one called, with a -laugh: "Ay, listen to the Wolf!"</p> - -<p>"What is it, Lukovitch?" asked the Prince.</p> - -<p>"Make the lady of our company, Bailiff." New cheers were raised. "Make -her a lieutenant of our artillery."</p> - -<p>Sophy laughed gayly.</p> - -<p>"I have His Majesty's authority to choose my officers," said the Prince, -smiling. "Baroness, will you be a lieutenant, and wear our sheepskins in -place of your sables there?"</p> - -<p>"It is your uniform, Monseigneur," Sophy answered, bowing her head.</p> - -<p>Lukovitch sprang forward and kissed her hand.</p> - -<p>"For our Bailiff's preserver as for our Bailiff, men of Volseni!" he -cried, loudly. The answering cheer brought tears to Sophy's sparkling -eyes. For a moment she could not see her Prince nor the men who thus -took her to their hearts.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, in the midst of her exultation, she saw a face on the -outskirts of the throng. A small, spare man stood there, dressed in -unobtrusive tweeds, but making no effort to conceal himself; he was just -looking on, a stranger to the town, interested in the picturesque little -scene. The face was that of Lieutenant Rastatz.</p> - -<p>She watched the drilling of the gunners, and then rode back with the -Prince, escorted beyond the gates by a cheering throng, which had now -been joined by many women. Dusk was falling, and the old, gray city took -on a ghostly look; the glory of the sunshine had departed. Sophy -shivered a little beneath her furs.</p> - -<p>"Monseigneur, did you see Rastatz?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"No, I didn't see him; but I knew he was here. Lukovitch told me -yesterday."</p> - -<p>"And not in uniform!"</p> - -<p>"He has leave, no doubt, and his uniform wouldn't make his stay in -Volseni any more pleasant."</p> - -<p>"What's he there for?" she asked, fretfully.</p> - -<p>"Ah, Baroness, you must inquire of those who sent him, I think." His -tone was light and merry.</p> - -<p>"To spy on you, I suppose! I hate his being there. He—he isn't worthy -to be in dear Volseni."</p> - -<p>"You and Volseni have fallen in love with each other, I see! As for -spying, all I'm doing I do openly, and all I shall do. But I don't -blame Stenovics for keeping an eye on me, or Stafnitz either. I do my -best to keep an eye on them, you know. We needn't be afraid of Rastatz, -we who have beaten Hercules Mistitch in open fight!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, well, away with him!" cried Sophy. "The snow's not frozen—shall we -canter home, Monseigneur?"</p> - -<p>Merrily they cantered through the fast falling evening, side by side. -Rastatz was out of mind now; all was out of mind save the fascination of -the crisp air, the silent suggestion of gathering night, her Prince who -rode beside her. The dark mass of the tower of Praslok rose too soon -before her unwilling eyes. She drew rein, sighing.</p> - -<p>"If life were just all that and nothing else!" she said, as he helped -her to dismount and the grooms took the horses. She stopped half-way up -the steep wooden causeway and turned to look back towards Volseni. The -Prince stood close by her.</p> - -<p>"That's good, but life has better things," he said, softly. "To ride -together is good, and to play together. But to work together is better -still, Baroness."</p> - -<p>For a moment Sophy was silent. Then she laughed in joy.</p> - -<p>"Well, I'm to wear your uniform henceforth, Monseigneur!"</p> - -<p>He took her hand and kissed it. Very slowly and gradually she drew it -away, her eyes meeting his as he raised his head. The heavy door at the -top of the causeway opened; Marie Zerkovitch stood there, holding a lamp -high in her hand; the sudden light flooded their faces. For a moment -more he looked at her, then went down again on his way to the stables. -Sophy ran up to where Marie Zerkovitch stood.</p> - -<p>"You heard our horses?" she asked, gayly.</p> - -<p>But there was no responsive smile on Marie's lips. For her, too, the -light had shone on those two faces, and she was sorely troubled.</p> - -<p>The next day again they rode together, and the next. On the third day, -Sophy rode into Volseni in the sheepskin cap and tunic, a short habit of -blue hiding her leather breeches and coming half-way over her long -boots. The Prince gave her his hand as they rode into the market-place.</p> - -<p>Marie Zerkovitch trembled, Max von Hollbrandt shrugged his shoulders -with a laugh—and little Rastatz drove back to Slavna through the night. -He thought that he had seen enough for his purposes; his report might be -useful in the city on the Krath.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX</h2> - -<h3>COUNTESS ELLENBURG PRAYS</h3> - - -<p>In Slavna, Dr. Natcheff continued his reassuring reports until the -public at large was so reassured as to ask for no more reports even of -the most optimistic description. But the state of mind of the few people -behind the scenes was very different. Stafnitz's conclusion held sway -there. The time was short! That was the ruling thought and the governing -fact. It might be very short; and the end might come without warning. -The secret was well kept, but to those to whom he spoke at all Natcheff -spoke openly. The King's life hung on a thread, which the least accident -might break. With perfect quiet and tranquillity he might live a year, -possibly two years; any shock or overstrain would precipitate the end. -Countess Ellenburg and her confidential friends knew this, the King knew -it himself, and Lepage his valet, knew it. There the possession of the -secret stopped.</p> - -<p>The King was gay and courageous; courage, at least, he had never lacked. -He seemed almost indifferent. The best years were over, he said, and why -not an end? An end swift, without pain, without waiting! There was much -to be said for it. Lepage agreed with his master and told him so in his -usual blunt fashion; they agreed together not to cry about it, and the -King went fishing still. But the time was short, and he pushed on his -one great idea with a zeal and an earnestness foreign to his earlier -habit. He would see his son married, or at least betrothed, before he -died; he would see the great marriage in train—the marriage which was -to establish forever the rank and prestige of the House of Stefanovitch. -The Prince of Slavna must set forth on his travels, seeking a wife; the -King even designated a Princess of most unquestionable exaltedness, as -the first object of his son's attentions or pursuit. With an unusual -peremptoriness, and an unusual independence, he sent Stenovics orders to -communicate his wishes directly to the Prince. Stenovics received the -royal memorandum on the day on which Lieutenant Rastatz returned to -Slavna with the fruits of his observation at Volseni in his hand.</p> - -<p>At first sight the King's commands were totally at variance with the -interests of the Ellenburg coterie, and with the progress of their great -plan. They did not want the House of Stefanovitch strengthened and -glorified in the person of its present Heir Apparent. But the matter was -more complicated than a first glance showed. There were the guns to be -considered as well—and the gunners training at Volseni; these would be -sources of strength and prestige to the Prince, not less valuable, more -tangible, than even a great match. And now the Prince was on the spot. -Send him on his travels! The time was short; when the short time ended, -he might be far away. Finally, he might go and yet take nothing by his -journey; the exalted Princess would be hard to win; the King's family -pride might defeat itself by making him pitch his hopes and his claims -too high.</p> - -<p>On the whole the matter was difficult. The three chief conspirators -showed their conviction of this in their characteristic ways. Countess -Ellenburg became more pious than ever; General Stenovics more silent—at -least more prone to restrict his conversation to grunts; Colonel -Stafnitz more gay and interested in life; he, too, was fishing, and in -his favorite waters, and he had hopes of a big rise.</p> - -<p>There was one contingency impossible to overlook. In spite of his -father's orders, the Prince might refuse to go. A knowledge of the state -of the King's health would afford him a very strong excuse, a suspicion -of the plans of the coterie an overpowering motive. The King himself had -foreseen the former danger and feared its effect on his dominant hopes; -by his express command the Prince was kept in ignorance; he had been -amply reassured by Dr. Natcheff. On the latter point the coterie had, -they flattered themselves, nothing to fear. On what ground, then, could -the Prince justify a refusal? His gunners? That would be unwarrantable; -the King would not accept the plea. Did Rastatz's report suggest any -other ground for refusal? If it did, it was one which, to the King's -mind, would seem more unwarrantable still.</p> - -<p>There is no big game without its risk; but after full consideration, -Stenovics and Stafnitz decided that the King's wishes were in their -interest, and should be communicated to the Prince without delay. They -had more chances for them than against them. If their game had its -dangers—well, the time might be very short.</p> - -<p>In these days Countess Ellenburg made a practice of shutting herself up -in her private rooms for as much as two additional hours every day. She -told the King that she sought a quiet time for meditation and prayer. -King Alexis shrugged his shoulders; meditation wouldn't help matters, -and, in face of Dr. Natcheff's diagnosis of the condition of his heart, -he must confess to a serious doubt even about prayer. He had outlived -his love for the Countess, but to the end he found in her a source of -whimsical amusement; divining, if not her ambitions, at least her -regrets; understanding how these regrets, when they became very acute, -had to be met by an access of piety. Naturally they would be acute now, -in view of Natcheff's diagnosis. He thanked her for her concern, and -bade her by all means go and pray.</p> - -<p>What was the stuff of her prayers—the stuff behind the words? No doubt -she prayed for her husband's life. No doubt she prayed for her son's -well-being. Very likely she even prayed that she might not be led into -temptation, or to do anything wrong, by her love for her son; for it was -her theory that the Prince himself would ruin his own chances, and throw -the Crown away. It is not easy always to be sure of conscious -insincerity.</p> - -<p>Yet the devil's advocate would have had small difficulty in placing a -fresh face on her prayers, in exhibiting what lay below the words, in -suggesting how it was that she came forth from her secret devotions, not -happy and tranquillized, but with weary eyes, and her narrow lips -close-set in stern self-control. Her prayer that she might do nothing -wrong was a prayer that the Prince might do nothing right. If that -prayer were granted, sin on her part would become superfluous. She -prayed not to be led into temptation—that sounded quite orthodox; was -she to presume to suggest to Heaven the means by which temptation should -be avoided?</p> - -<p>Stenovics skilfully humored this shade of hypocrisy. When he spoke to -her, there were in his mouth no such words as plans or schemes or hopes -or ambitions—no, nor claims nor rights. It was always, "the -possibilities we are compelled to contemplate"—"the steps we may be -forced into taking"—"the necessities of mere self-defence"—"the -interests of the kingdom"—"the supreme evil of civil strife"—which -last most respectable phrase meant that it was much better to jockey the -Prince out of his throne than to fight him for it. Colonel Stafnitz bit -his lip and gnawed his mustache during these interviews. The Countess -saw—and hated him. She turned back to Stenovics's church-going phrases -and impassive face. Throughout the whole affair the General probably -never once mentioned to her in plain language the one and only object of -all their hopes and efforts. In the result business took rather longer -to transact—the church-going phrases ran to many syllables; but -concessions must be made to piety. Nor was the Countess so singular; we -should often forego what we like best if we were obliged to define it -accurately and aloud.</p> - -<p>After one of these conferences the Countess always prayed; it may be -presumed that she prayed against the misfortune of a cast-iron -terminology. Probably she also urged her views—for prayer is in many -books and mouths more of an argument than a petition—that all marriages -were on one and the same footing, and that Heaven knew naught of a -particular variety named in some countries morganatic. Of the keeping of -contracts, made contrary to the presumed views of Heaven, we are all -aware that Churches—and sometimes States, too—are apt to know or count -nothing.</p> - -<p>Such were the woman and her mind. Some pity may go out to her. In the -end, behind all her prayers, and inspiring them—nay, driving her to -her knees in fear—was the conviction that she risked her soul. When she -felt that, she pleaded that it was for her son's sake. Yet there lay -years between her son and man's estate; the power was for some one -during those years.</p> - -<p>"If I had the Countess's views and temperament, I should grow -potatoes—and, if possible, grow them worse than my neighbors," said -Colonel Stafnitz. "If I lived dully, I should at least die in peace!"</p> - -<p>The King held a very confidential conference. It was to sign his will. -The Countess was there; the little boy, who moved in happy -unconsciousness of all the schemes which centred round him, was sent -into the next room to play with Lepage. Stenovics and Stafnitz were -present as witnesses, and Markart as secretary. The King touched lightly -on his state of health, and went on to express his conviction of the -Prince of Slavna's distinguished consideration for Countess Ellenburg -and fraternal affection for little Alexis. "I go the happier for being -sure of this, gentlemen," he said, to his two counsellors. "But in any -case the Countess and my son are well secured. There will be enough for -you, Charlotte, to live in suitable style, here or abroad, as you -please. My son I wish to stay here and enter my army. I've settled on -him the estate of Dobrava, and he will have means equal to his station. -It's well to have this arranged; from day to day I am in the hands of -God."</p> - -<p>As with another King, nothing in life became him like the leaving of it. -There was little more work to do—he had but to wait with courage and -with dignity. The demand now was on what he had in abundance, not on a -faculty which he had always lacked. He signed the document, and bade the -General and Stafnitz witness it. In silence they obeyed him, meaning to -make waste-paper of the thing to which they set their names.</p> - -<p>That business done—and the King alone seemed happy in the doing of it -(even Stafnitz had frowned)—the King turned suddenly to Stenovics.</p> - -<p>"I should like to see Baroness Dobrava. Pray let her be sent for this -afternoon."</p> - -<p>The shock was sudden, but Stenovics's answer came steady, if slow.</p> - -<p>"Your Majesty desires her presence?"</p> - -<p>"I want to thank her once again, Stenovics. She's done much for us."</p> - -<p>"The Baroness is not in Slavna, sir, but I can send for her."</p> - -<p>"Not in Slavna? Where is she, then?"</p> - -<p>He asked what the whole kingdom knew. Save himself, nobody was ignorant -of Sophy's whereabouts.</p> - -<p>"She is on a visit to his Royal Highness at Praslok, sir." Stenovics's -voice was a triumph of neutrality.</p> - -<p>"On a visit to the Prince?" Surprise sounded in his voice.</p> - -<p>"Madame Zerkovitch is there too, sir," Stenovics added. "The ladies have -been there during the whole of the Prince of Slavna's stay."</p> - -<p>The King shot a glance at Countess Ellenburg; she was looking prim and -grim. He looked, also, at Stafnitz, who bit his mustache, without quite -hiding an intentional but apparently irrepressible smile. The King did -not look too grave—and most of his gravity was for Countess Ellenburg.</p> - -<p>"Is that—hum—at this moment, quite desirable?" he asked.</p> - -<p>His question met with silence; the air of all three intimated that the -matter was purely one for His Majesty. The King sat a moment with a -frown on his brow—the frown which just supplants a smile when a thing, -generally amusing and not unnatural, happens by chance to occur -inconveniently.</p> - -<p>Across this silence came a loud voice from the next room—Lepage's -voice. "Take care, take care! You'll upset the flowers, Prince!"</p> - -<p>The King started; he looked round at his companions. Then he struck a -hand-bell on the table before him. Lepage appeared.</p> - -<p>"Lepage, whom did you address as 'Prince' just now?"</p> - -<p>"Count Alexis, sir."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"The Count insisted."</p> - -<p>"Don't do it again. It's absurd! Go away!"</p> - -<p>A dull red patched Countess Ellenburg's cheeks. Lids brooded low over -the eyes of Stafnitz and of Stenovics. It was a very awkward little -scene—the King's irritation had got the better of him for the moment. -What would the kindred of the exalted Princess have said? The King -turned to Countess Ellenburg and forced a smile.</p> - -<p>"The question of reproof is one for you, Countess," he said, frigidly. -"And now about the Baroness—No, I mean, I wanted to ask if my wishes -have been communicated to the Prince of Slavna."</p> - -<p>"The Prince has received them, sir. He read them in the presence of my -messenger, and requested leave to send his answer in writing, unless he -might wait on Your Majesty."</p> - -<p>"There are reasons why I had better not see him just now. Ask him to -write—but very soon. The matter isn't one for delay." The King rose -from his seat.</p> - -<p>"Your Majesty still wishes me to send for Baroness Dobrava?"</p> - -<p>The King reflected for a moment, and answered simply: "No."</p> - -<p>His brief word broke up the conference—it had already lasted longer -than suave and reassuring Dr. Natcheff would have advised. The men went -away with a smile, all of them—the King, Stenovics, Stafnitz, -round-faced Markart—each smiling according to the quality of each, -their smiles answering to Max von Hollbrandt's shrug of the shoulders. -There are things which bring men to what painful youth was taught to -call the least common denominator. A horse-race does it, a prize-fight, -a cricket-match, a battle, too, in some sort. Equally efficacious, very -often, though it is to be recorded with reluctance, is a strong -flirtation with no proper issue obvious.</p> - -<p>The matter was grave, yet all the men laughed. The matter was grave, and -Countess Ellenburg did not laugh. Was that what Stafnitz called her -views and her temperament? In part, no doubt. Besides, men will laugh at -the side-issues of the gravest affairs; it is not generally the case -with woman. Added again to this, perhaps Countess Ellenburg knew more, -or divined more. Among glaring diversity there was, perhaps, -something—an atom—of similarity between her and Sophy—not the -something which refuses, but the something which couples high conditions -with assent. The thousandth chance is to most men negligible; to most -women it is no worse than the tenth; their sense of mathematical odds is -sorely—and sometimes magnificently—imperfect.</p> - -<p>It had flashed across Countess Ellenburg's mind that maybe Sophy, too, -played for a big stake—or, rather, lived for it and so would die. The -men had not thought of that; to them, the violent flirtation had its -obvious end and its passing inconvenience. It might delay the Prince's -departure for a while; it might make his marriage more entirely an -affair of duty and of state. With this idea they smiled and shrugged; -the whole business came under the head which, in their thoughts and -their confidential conversations, they would style nonsense.</p> - -<p>It was not so with the Countess. Disconcerted by that episode of Lepage -and young Alexis, more moved by the sudden appearance of Baroness -Dobrava as a factor in the game, she returned to prayer.</p> - -<p>What now was the form and matter of her prayer? The form must go -unformulated—and the words unconjectured. Yet she prayed so long that -she must have succeeded in putting a good face on her petitions. Without -a plausible plea nobody could have rested on their knees so long.</p> - -<p>It is probable that she prayed for others as she prayed for herself—she -prayed that the Prince of Slavna and the Baroness Dobrava might escape -temptation.</p> - -<p>Or that, if they fell—? Again it was not for her to dictate to Heaven. -Heaven had its ways of dealing with such sinners.</p> - -<p>Yet through all her prayers must have echoed the words: "It's absurd!" -She prayed again, most likely, against being suspected of wishing that -the man who uttered them—her husband—might soon be dead.</p> - -<p>The King dead—and the Prince a slave to love—to the idle hours of an -unprofitable love! It was a fine vision, and needed a vast deal of -covering with the veil of prayer.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X</h2> - -<h3>THE SOUND OF A TRUMPET</h3> - - -<p>The Prince of Slavna's answer to the intimation of his father's wishes -was dutiful, courteous, and discreetly diplomatic. The Prince was much -occupied with his drills and other occupations; he availed himself of -Max von Hollbrandt's practised pen—the guest was glad to do his royal -host this favor.</p> - -<p>They talked over the sense of the reply; Max then draughted it. The -Prince did no more than amend certain expressions which the young -diplomatist had used. Max wrote that the Prince cordially sympathized -with the King's wishes; the Prince amended to the effect that he -thoroughly understood them. Max wrote that the Prince was prepared -cordially and energetically to co-operate in their realization; the -Prince preferred to be prepared to consider them in a benevolent spirit. -Max suggested that two or three months' postponement of the suggested -journey would not in itself be fatal; the Prince insisted that such a -delay was essential, in order that negotiations might be set on foot to -ensure his being welcomed with due <i>empressement</i>. Max added that the -later date would have an incidental advantage, since it would obviate -the necessity of the Prince's interrupting the important labors on which -he was engaged; the Prince said instead that, in his judgment, it was -essential, in the interests of the kingdom, that the task of training -the artillery should not be interfered with by any other object, however -well worthy of consideration that object might be.</p> - -<p>In the result, the draught as amended, though not less courteous or -dutiful than Max's original, was noticeably more stiff. Translate them -both into the terse and abrupt speech of every-day life, and one said: -"I'd rather not, please," while the other came at least very near to a -blank "I won't!" Max's was acquiescence, coupled with a prayer for -postponement; the Prince's was postponement first, with an accompanying -assurance of respectful consideration.</p> - -<p>Max was not hurt, but he felt a professional disapproval; the Prince had -said more, and shown more of his mind, than was needful; it was throwing -more cards on the table than the rules of the game demanded.</p> - -<p>"Mine would have done just as well," he complained to Marie Zerkovitch. -"If mine had been rejected, his could have followed. As it is, he's -wasted one or other of them. Very foolish, since just now time's his -main object!" He did not mean saving time, but protracting it.</p> - -<p>Marie did no more than toss her head peevishly. The author of the -original draught persevered.</p> - -<p>"Don't you think mine would have been much wiser—to begin with?"</p> - -<p>"I don't see much difference. There's little enough truth in either of -them!" she snapped.</p> - -<p>Max looked at her with an amused and tolerant smile. He knew quite well -what she meant. He shook his head at her with a humorous twinkle. "Oh, -come, come, don't be exacting, madame! There's a very fair allowance of -truth. Quite half the truth, I should think. He is really very anxious -about the gunners!"</p> - -<p>"And about what else?"</p> - -<p>Max spread out his hands with a shrug, but passed the question by. "So -much truth, in fact, that it would have served amply for at least two -letters," he remarked, returning to his own special point of complaint.</p> - -<p>Marie might well amuse the easy-going, yet observant and curious, young -man; he loved to watch his fellow-creatures under the stress of feelings -from which he himself was free, and found in the opportunities afforded -him in this line the chief interest both of his life and of his -profession.</p> - -<p>But Marie had gradually risen to a high, nervous tension. She was no -puritan—puritans were not common in Kravonia, nor had Paris grafted -such a slip onto her nature. Had she thought as the men in the Palace -thought when they smiled, had she thought that and no more, it is -scarcely likely that she would have thus disturbed herself; after all, -such cases are generally treated as in some sense outside the common -rules; exceptional allowances are, in fact, whether properly or not, -made for exceptional situations. Another feeling was in her mind—an -obsession which had come almost wholly to possess her. The fateful -foreboding which had attacked her from the first had now full dominion -over her; its rule was riveted more closely on her spirit day by day, as -day by day the Prince and Sophy drew closer together. Even that Sophy -had once saved his life could now no longer shake Marie's doleful -prepossession. Unusual and unlooked-for things take color from the mind -of the spectator; the strange train of events which had brought Sophy -to Praslok borrowed ominous shadows from a nervous, apprehensive -temperament.</p> - -<p>No such gloom brooded over Sophy. She gave herself up to the hour: the -past forgotten, the future never thought of. It was the great time of -her life. Her feelings, while not less spontaneous and fresh, were more -mature and more fully satisfied than when Casimir de Savres poured his -love at her feet. A cry of happiness almost lyrical runs through her -scanty record of these days—there was little leisure for diary or -letters.</p> - -<p>Winter was melting into spring, snow dwelled only on the hill-tops, Lake -Talti was unbound and sparkled in the sun; the days grew longer, yet -were far too short. To ride with him to Volseni, to hear the cheers, to -see the love they bore him, to watch him at work, to seem to share the -labor and the love—then to shake off the kindly clinging friends and -take to a mountain-path, or wander, the reins on the horses' necks, by -the margin of the lake, and come home through the late dusk, talking -often, silent often, always together in thought as in bodily -presence—was not this enough? "If I had to die in a month, I should owe -life a tremendous debt already"—that is her own summing up; it is -pleasant to remember.</p> - -<p>It would be enough to say—love; enough with a nature ardent as hers. -Yet, with love much else conspired. There was the thought of what she -had done, of the things to which she was a party; there was the sense of -power, the satisfaction of ambition, a promise of more things; there was -the applause of Volseni as well as the devotion of the Prince; there -was, too—it persisted all through her life—the funny, half-childish, -and (to a severe eye) urchin-like pleasure in the feeling that these -were fine doings for Sophy Grouch, of Morpingham in Essex! "Fancy <i>me</i>!" -is the indefensibly primitive form in which this delight shows in one of -the few letters bearing date from the Castle of Praslok.</p> - -<p>Yet it is possible to find this simple, gracious surprise at Fortune's -fancies worthy of love. Her own courage, her own catching at Fortune's -forelock, seem to have been always unconscious and instinctive. These -she never hints at, nor even begins to analyze. Of her love for the -Prince she speaks once or twice—and once in reference to what she had -felt for Casimir. "I loved him most when he left me, and when he died," -she writes. "I love him not less now because I love Monseigneur. But I -can love Monseigneur more for having loved Casimir. God bade the dear -dead die, but He bade me live, and death helped to teach me how to do -it." Again she reflects: "How wonderfully everything is <i>worth -while</i>—even sorrows!" Following which reflection, in the very next line -(she is writing to Julia Robins), comes the naïve outburst: "I look just -splendid in my sheepskin tunic—and he's given me the sweetest toy of a -revolver; that's in case they ever charge, and try and cut us up behind -our guns!" She is laughing at herself, but the laugh is charged with an -infectious enjoyment. So she lived, loved, and laughed through those -unequalled days, trying to soothe Marie Zerkovitch, bantering Max von -Hollbrandt, giving her masculine mind and her feminine soul wholly to -her Prince. "She was like a singularly able and energetic sunbeam," Max -says quaintly, himself obviously not untouched by her attractions.</p> - -<p>The Prince's mind was simple. He was quite sincere about his guns; he -had no wish to go on his travels until they had arrived, and he could -deliver them into the safe custody of his trained and trusty Volsenians, -and of Lukovitch their captain. Less than that was not safety, with -Stenovics in office and Colonel Stafnitz on duty at the capital. But -Marie Zerkovitch was right, too, even though over-exacting, as Max had -told her. The letter to the King held but half the truth, and that half -not the more significant. He could not go from Sophy's side to seek a -wife. The desire of his heart and the delight of his eyes—she was here -in Praslok.</p> - -<p>Her charm was not only for his heart and eyes, her fascination not -solely for his passion; on his intellect also she laid her powerful -hold, opening the narrow confines of his mind to broader views, and -softening the rigor of his ideals. He had seen himself only as the stern -master, the just chastiser of a turbulent capital and an unruly -soldiery. But was there not a higher aim? Might he not be loved in the -plains as on the hills, at Slavna as at Volseni?</p> - -<p>By himself he could not achieve that; his pride—nay, his -obstinacy—forbade the first step. But what his sensitive dignity -rejected for himself, he could see her sunny graciousness accomplish -without loss of self-respect, naturally, all spontaneously. He was a -soldier; hers were the powers of peace, of that instinctive -statesmanship of the emotions by which hearts are won and kingdoms knit -together by a tie stronger than the sword. Because in his mind's eye he -saw her doing this, the idea at which the men in the Palace had smiled, -and which even Marie Zerkovitch would have accepted as the lesser evil, -never came into his head. In the future years she was to be openly at -his side, doing these things for him and for the land of his love and -labor. Would she not be a better partner than some stranger, to whom he -must go cap in hand, to whom his country would be a place of exile and -his countrymen seem half-barbarians, whose life with him would be one -long tale of forced and unwilling condescension? A pride more subtle -than his father's rose in revolt.</p> - -<p>If he could make the King see that! There stood the difficulty. Right in -the way of his darling hope was the one thing on which the King -insisted. The pride of family—the great alliance—the single point -whereon the easy King was an obstacle so formidable! Yet had he -despaired, he would have been no such lover as he was.</p> - -<p>His answer had gone to the King; there was no news of its reception yet. -But on the next day, in the evening, great tidings came from Slavna, -forwarded by Zerkovitch, who was in charge of the Prince's affairs -there. The Prince burst eagerly into the dining-room in the tower of -Praslok, where Sophy sat alone. He seemed full of triumphant excitement, -almost boyish in his glee. It is at such moments that hesitations are -forgotten and the last reserves broken down.</p> - -<p>"My guns!" he cried. "My guns! They've started on their way. They're due -in Slavna in a month!"</p> - -<p>"In a month!" she murmured softly. "Ah, then—"</p> - -<p>"Our company will be ready, too. We'll march down to Slavna and meet the -guns!" He laughed. "Oh, I'll be very pleasant to Slavna now—just as you -advise me. We'll meet them with smiles on our faces." He came up to her -and laid his hand on hers. "You've done this for me," he said, smiling -still, yet growing more grave.</p> - -<p>"It'll be the end of this wonderful time, of this our time together!"</p> - -<p>"Of our time at Praslok—not of our time together. What, won't -Lieutenant Baroness Dobrava march with her battery?"</p> - -<p>She smiled doubtfully, gently shaking her head. "Perhaps! But when we -get to Slavna—? Oh, I'm sorry that this time's so nearly done!"</p> - -<p>He looked at her gravely for a few moments, making, perhaps, a last -quick calculation—undergoing, perhaps, a last short struggle. But the -Red Star glowed against the pallor of her face; her eyes were gleaming -beacons.</p> - -<p>"Neither the guns, nor the men, nor Slavna—no, nor the Crown, when that -time comes—without you!" he said.</p> - -<p>She rose slowly, tremblingly, from her chair, and stretched out her -hands in an instinctive protest: "Monseigneur!" Then she clasped her -hands, setting her eyes on his, and whispering again, yet lower: -"Monseigneur!"</p> - -<p>"Marie Zerkovitch says Fate sent you to Kravonia. I think she's right. -Fate did—my fate. I think it's fated that we are to be together to the -end, Sophy."</p> - -<p>A step creaked on the old stairs. Marie Zerkovitch was coming down from -her room on the floor above. The door of the dining-room stood open, but -neither of them heard the step; they were engrossed, and the sound -passed unheeded.</p> - -<p>Standing there with hands still clasped, and eyes still bound to his, -she spoke again—and Marie Zerkovitch stood by the door and heard the -quick yet clear words, herself fascinated, unable to move or speak.</p> - -<p>"I've meant nothing of it. I've thought nothing of it. I seem to have -done nothing towards it. It has just come to me." Her tone took on a -touch of entreaty, whether it were to him, or to some unseen power -which ruled her life, and to which she might have to render an account.</p> - -<p>"Yet it is welcome?" he asked quietly. She was long in answering; he -waited without impatience, in a confidence devoid of doubt. She seemed -to seek for the whole truth and to give it to him in gravest, fullest -words.</p> - -<p>"It is life, Monseigneur," she said. "I can't see life without it now."</p> - -<p>He held out his hands, and very slowly she laid hers in them.</p> - -<p>"It is enough—and nothing less could have been enough from you to me -and from me to you," he said gently. "Unless we live it together, I -think it can be no life for us now."</p> - -<p>The chain which had held Marie Zerkovitch motionless suddenly snapped. -She rushed into the room, and, forgetful of everything in her agitation, -seized the Prince by the arm.</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?" she cried. "What do you mean? Are you mad?"</p> - -<p>He was very fond of little Marie. He looked down at her now with an -affectionate, indulgent smile.</p> - -<p>"Come, you've heard what I said, I suppose—though it wasn't meant for -your ears, you know! Well, then, I mean just what I said, Marie."</p> - -<p>"But what do you mean by it?" she persisted in a feverish, almost -childish, excitement. She turned on Sophy, too. "And what do you mean by -it, Sophy?" she cried.</p> - -<p>Sophy passed a hand across her brow. A slow smile relieved the enchanted -tension of her face; she seemed to smile in a whimsical surprise at -herself. Her answer to Marie came vague and almost dreamy. "I—I -thought of nothing, dear Marie," she said; then with a sudden low murmur -of delighted laughter she laid her hands in the Prince's again. She had -thought of nothing but of that life together and their love.</p> - -<p>"She'll share my life, Marie, and, when the time comes, my throne," the -Prince said softly: he tried to persuade and soothe her with his gentle -tones.</p> - -<p>Marie Zerkovitch would not have it. Possessed by her old fear, her old -foreboding, she flung away the arm she held with an angry gesture. "It's -ruin!" she cried. "Ruin, ruin!" Her voice rang out through the old room -and seemed to fill all the Castle of Praslok with its dirgeful note.</p> - -<p>"No," said he firmly. "Ruin will not come through me, nor through her. -It may be that ruin—what you call ruin—will come. It may be that I -shall lose my life or my throne." He smiled a little. "Such changes and -chances come as nothing new to a Stefanovitch. I have clever and bold -men against me. Let them try! We'll try, too. But ruin will not be by -her fault, nor through this. And if it were, don't I owe her my life -already? Should I refuse to risk for her the life she has given?" He -dropped his voice to homelier, more familiar tones, and ended, with a -half-laugh: "Come, little friend, you mustn't try to frighten Sergius -Stefanovitch. It's better the House should end than live on in a coward, -you know."</p> - -<p>The plea was not perfect—there was wisdom as well as courage in -question. Yet he would have maintained himself to be right in point of -wisdom, too, had Marie pressed him on it. But her force was spent; her -violence ended, and with it her expostulations. But not her terror and -dismay. She threw herself into a chair and covered her face with her -hands, sobbing bitterly.</p> - -<p>The Prince gently caressed her shaking shoulder, but he raised his eyes -to Sophy, who had stood quiet through the scene.</p> - -<p>"Are you ready for what comes, Sophy?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Monseigneur, I am ready," she said, with head erect and her face set. -But the next instant she broke into a low yet rich and ringing laugh; it -mingled strangely with Marie's sobs, which were gradually dying away, -yet sounded still, an undertone of discord with Sophy's mirth. She -stretched out her hands towards him again, whispering in an amused pity: -"Poor child—she thought that we should be afraid!"</p> - -<p>Out from the dusk of the quiet evening came suddenly the blare of a -trumpet, blown from Volseni by a favoring breeze. It sounded every -evening, at nightfall, to warn the herdsmen in the hills of the closing -of the gates, and had so sounded from time beyond man's memory.</p> - -<p>The Prince raised his hand to bid her listen.</p> - -<p>"In good Volseni there is watch and ward for us!"</p> - -<p>The echoes of the blast rang for an instant round the hills.</p> - -<p>"And there is watch and ward, and the glad sound of a trumpet, in my -heart, Monseigneur," she said.</p> - -<p>The sobs were still, laughter was hushed, the echoes died away. In utter -silence their hands and their eyes met. Only in their hearts love's -clarion rang indomitable and marvellously glad.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI</h2> - -<h3>M. ZERKOVITCH'S BEDROOM FIRE</h3> - - -<p>Often there are clever brains about us of whose workings we care -nothing, save so far as they serve to the defter moving of our dishes or -the more scientific brushing and folding of our clothes. Humorists and -philosophers have described or conjectured or caricatured the world of -those who wait on us, inviting us to consider how we may appear to the -inward gaze of the eyes which are so obediently cast down before ours or -so dutifully alert to anticipate our orders. As a rule, we decline the -invitation; the task seems at once difficult and unnecessary. Enough to -remember that the owners of the eyes have ears and mouths also! A small -leak, left unstanched, will empty the largest cask at last; it is well -to keep that in mind both in private concerns and in affairs of public -magnitude.</p> - -<p>The King's body-servant, Emile Lepage, had been set a-thinking. This was -the result of the various and profuse scoldings which he had undergone -for calling young Count Alexis "Prince." The King's brief, sharp words -at the conference had been elaborated into a reproof both longer and -sterner than his Majesty was wont to trouble himself to administer; he -had been very strong on the utter folly of putting such ideas into the -boy's head. Lepage was pretty clear that the idea had come from the -boy's head into his, but he said nothing more of that. The boy himself -scolded Lepage—first for having been overheard, secondly (and, as -Lepage guessed, after being scolded himself very roundly) for using the -offending title at all. Meekly Lepage bore this cross also—indeed, with -some amusement, and a certain touch of pity for young Alexis, who was -not a prince and obviously could not make out why: in the books a king's -sons were always princes, even though there were (as in those glorious -days there often were) fifty or threescore of them.</p> - -<p>Then Countess Ellenburg scolded him: the King's "It's absurd!" was -rankling sorely in her mind. Her scolding was in her heaviest -manner—very religious: she called Heaven to witness that never, by word -or deed, had she done anything to give her boy such a notion. The days -are gone by when Heaven makes overt present answer; nothing happened! -She roundly charged Lepage with fostering the idea for his own purposes; -he wanted to set the Prince of Slavna against his little brother, she -supposed, and to curry favor with the rising sun at the poor child's -cost.</p> - -<p>She was very effective, but she angered Lepage almost beyond endurance. -By disposition he was thoroughly good-natured, if sardonic and -impassive; he could not suffer the accusation of injuring the pretty boy -for his own ends; it was both odious and absurd. He snapped back smartly -at her: "I hope nobody will do more to put wrong ideas in his head than -I have done, Madame la Comtesse." In a fury she drove him from the room. -But she had started ever so slightly. Lepage's alert brain jumped at the -signal.</p> - -<p>Finally, Stenovics himself had a lecture for poor, much-lectured Lepage. -It was one of the miscalculations to which an over-cautious cunning is -prone. Stenovics was gentle and considerate, but he was very -urgent—urgent, above all, that nothing should be said about the -episode, neither about it, nor about the other reprimands. Silence, -silence, silence was his burden. Lepage thought more and more. It is -better to put up with gossip than to give the idea that the least gossip -would be a serious offence. People gossip without thinking, it's easy -come and gone, easy speaking and easy forgetting; but stringent -injunctions not to talk are apt to make men think. References to the -rising sun, also, may breed reflection in the satellites of a setting -orb. Neither Countess Ellenburg nor General Stenovics had been as well -advised as usual in this essentially trumpery matter.</p> - -<p>In short, nervousness had been betrayed. Whence came it? What did it -mean? If it meant anything, could Lepage turn that thing to account? The -King's favorite attendant was no favorite with Countess Ellenburg. For -Lepage, too, the time might be very short! He would not injure the boy, -as the angry mother had believed, or at least suggested; but, without -question of that, there was no harm in a man's looking out for himself; -or if there were, Lepage was clear in thinking that the Countess and the -General were not fit preachers of such a highly exacting gospel.</p> - -<p>Lepage concluded that he had something to sell. His wares were a -suspicion and a fact. Selling the suspicion wronged nobody—he would -give no warranty with it—<i>Caveat emptor</i>. Selling the fact was -disobedience to the King his master. "Disobedience, yes; injury, no," -said Lepage with a bit of casuistry. Besides, the King, too, had scolded -him.</p> - -<p>Moreover, the Prince of Slavna had always treated Monsieur Emile Lepage -with distinguished consideration. The Bourbon blood, no doubt, stretched -out hands to <i>la belle France</i> in Monsieur Lepage's person.</p> - -<p>Something to sell! Who was his buyer? Whose interest could be won by his -suspicion, whose friendship bought with his fact? The ultimate buyer was -plain enough. But Lepage could not go to Praslok, and he did not approve -of correspondence, especially with Colonel Stafnitz in practical control -of the Household. He sought a go-between—and a personal interview. At -least he could take a walk; the servants were not prisoners. Even -conspirators must stop somewhere—on pain of doing their own cooking and -the rest! At a quarter past eight in the evening, having given the King -his dinner and made him comfortable for the next two hours, Lepage -sallied forth and took the road to Slavna. He was very carefully -dressed, wore a flower in his buttonhole, and had dropped a discreet -hint about a lady, in conversation with his peers. If ladies often -demand excuses, they may furnish them too; present seriousness invoked -aid from bygone frivolity.</p> - -<p>At ten o'clock he returned, still most spruce and orderly, and with a -well satisfied air about him. He had found a purchaser for his suspicion -and his fact. His pocket was the better lined, and he had received -flattering expressions of gratitude and assurances of favor. He felt -that he had raised a buttress against future assaults of Fortune. He -entered the King's dressing-room in his usual noiseless and unobtrusive -manner. He was not aware that General Stenovics had quitted it just a -quarter of an hour before, bearing in his hand a document which he had -submitted for his Majesty's signature. The King had signed it and -endorsed the cover "<i>Urgent</i>."</p> - -<p>"Ah, Lepage, where have you been?" asked the King.</p> - -<p>"Just to get a little air and drink a glass at the Golden Lion."</p> - -<p>"You look gayer than that!" smiled the King. Evidently his anger had -passed; perhaps he wished to show as much to an old servant whom he -liked and valued.</p> - -<p>Conscience-stricken—or so appearing—Lepage tore the flower from his -coat. "I beg Your Majesty's pardon. I ought to have removed it before -entering your Majesty's presence. But I was told you wished to retire at -once, sir, so I hurried here immediately."</p> - -<p>The King gave a weary yawn. "Yes, I'll go to bed at once, Lepage; and -let me sleep as long as I can. This fag-end of life isn't very amusing." -He passed his hand wearily across his brow. "My head aches. Isn't the -room very close, Lepage? Open the window."</p> - -<p>"It has begun to rain, sir."</p> - -<p>"Never mind, let's have the rain, too. At least, it's fresh."</p> - -<p>Lepage opened a window which looked over the Krath. The King rose: -Lepage hastened to offer his arm, which his Majesty accepted. They went -together to the window. A sudden storm had gathered; rain was pelting -down in big drops.</p> - -<p>"It looks like being a rough night," remarked the King.</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid it does, sir," Lepage agreed.</p> - -<p>"We're lucky to be going to our beds."</p> - -<p>"Very, sir," answered Lepage, wondering whose opposite fate his Majesty -was pitying.</p> - -<p>"I shouldn't care, even if I were a young man and a sound one, to ride -to Praslok to-night."</p> - -<p>"To Praslok, sir?" There was surprise in Lepage's voice. He could not -help it. Luckily it sounded quite natural to the King. It was certainly -not a night to ride five and twenty miles, and into the hills, unless -your business was very urgent.</p> - -<p>"Yes, to Praslok. I've had my breath of air—you can shut the window, -Lepage."</p> - -<p>The King returned to the fireplace and stood warming himself. Lepage -closed the window, drew the curtains, and came to the middle of the -room, where he stood in respectful readiness—and, underneath that, a -very lively curiosity.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said the King slowly, "Captain Markart goes to Praslok -to-night—with a despatch for his Royal Highness, you know. Business, -Lepage, urgent business! Everything must yield to that." The King -enunciated this virtuous maxim as though it had been the rule of his -life. "No time to lose, Lepage, so the Captain goes to-night. But I'm -afraid he'll have a rough ride—very rough."</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid so, sir," said Lepage, and added, strictly in his thoughts: -"And so will Monsieur Zerkovitch!"</p> - -<p>Captain Markart was entirely of his Majesty's opinion as he set out on -his journey to Praslok. His ride would be rough, dark, and solitary—the -last by Stenovics's order. Markart was not afraid, he was well armed; -but he expected to be very bored, and knew that he would be very wet, by -the time he reached the Castle. He breathed a fervent curse on the -necessities of State, of which the Minister had informed him, as he -buttoned up his heavy cavalry overcoat, and rode across the bridge on to -the main road on the right bank, an hour before midnight.</p> - -<p>Going was very heavy, so was the rain, so was the darkness; he and his -horse made a blurred, laboring shape on the murky face of night. But his -orders were to hasten, and he pushed on at a sharp trot and soon covered -his first stage, the five miles to the old wooden bridge, where the road -leaves the course of the Krath, is carried over the river, and strikes -northeast, towards the hills.</p> - -<p>At this point he received the first intimation that his journey was not -to be so solitary as he had supposed. When he was half-way across the -bridge, he heard what sounded like an echo of the beat of his horse's -hoofs on the timbers behind him. The thing seemed odd. He halted a -moment to listen. The sound of his horse's hoofs stopped—but the echo -went on. It was no echo, then; he was not the only traveller that way! -He pricked his horse with the spur; regaining the road, he heard the -timbers of the bridge still sounding. He touched his horse again and -went forward briskly. He had no reason to associate his -fellow-traveller's errand with his own, but he was sure that when -General Stenovics ordered despatch, he would not be pleased to learn -that his messenger had been passed by another wayfarer on the road.</p> - -<p>But the stranger, too, was in a hurry, it seemed; Markart could not -shake him off. On the contrary, he drew nearer. The road was still broad -and good. Markart tried a canter. The stranger broke into a canter. "At -any rate, it makes for good time," thought Markart, smiling uneasily. In -fact, the two found themselves drawn into a sort of race. On they went, -covering the miles at a quick, sustained trot, exhilarating to the men, -but rather a strain on their horses. Both were well mounted. Markart -wondered who the stranger with such a good horse was. He turned his -head, but could see only the same sort of blur as he himself made; part -of the blur, however, seemed of a lighter color than his dark overcoat -and bay horse produced.</p> - -<p>Markart's horse pecked; his rider awoke to the fact that he was pounding -his mount without doing much good to himself. He would see whether the -unknown meant to pass him or was content to keep on equal terms. His -pace fell to a gentle trot—so did the stranger's. Markart walked his -horse for half a mile—so did the stranger. Thenceforward they went -easily, each keeping his position, till Markart came to where the road -forked—on the right to Dobrava, on the left to Praslok and Volseni. -Markart drew rein and waited; he might just as well see where the -stranger was going.</p> - -<p>The stranger came up—and Markart started violently. The lighter tinge -of the blur was explained. The stranger rode a white horse. It flashed -on Markart that the Prince rode a white charger, and that the animal had -been in Slavna the day before—he had seen it being exercised. He peered -into the darkness, trying to see the man's face; the effort was of no -avail. The stranger came to a stand beside him, and for a few moments -neither moved. Then the stranger turned his horse's head to the left: he -was for Praslok or Volseni, then! Markart followed his example. He knew -why he did not speak to the stranger, but he was wondering why on earth -the stranger did not speak to him. He went on wondering till it occurred -to him that, perhaps, the stranger was in exactly the same state of -mind.</p> - -<p>There was no question of cantering, or even of trotting, now. The road -rose steeply; it was loose and founderous from heavy rain; great stones -lay about, dangerous traps for a careless rider. The horses labored. At -the same moment, with the same instinct, Markart and the stranger -dismounted. The next three miles were done on foot, and there before -them, in deeper black, rose the gate-tower of the Castle of Praslok. The -stranger had fallen a little behind again; now he drew level. They were -almost opposite the Castle.</p> - -<p>A dog barked from the stables. Another answered from the Castle. Two -more took up the tune from the stables; the Castle guardian redoubled -his responsive efforts. A man came running out from the stables with a -lantern; a light flashed in the doorway of the Castle. Both Markart and -the stranger came to a stand-still. The man with the lantern raised it -high in the air, to see the faces of the travellers.</p> - -<p>They saw each other's faces, too. The first result was to send them into -a fit of laughter—a relief from tension, a recognition of the absurdity -into which their diplomatic caution had led them.</p> - -<p>"By the powers, Captain Markart!"</p> - -<p>"Monsieur Zerkovitch, by Heaven!"</p> - -<p>They laughed again.</p> - -<p>"Ah, and we might have had a pleasant ride together!"</p> - -<p>"I should have rejoiced in the solace of your conversation!"</p> - -<p>But neither asked the other why he had behaved in such a ridiculous -manner.</p> - -<p>"And our destination is the same?" asked Zerkovitch. "You stop here at -the Castle?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes, Monsieur Zerkovitch. And you?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, Captain, yes; my journey ends at the Castle."</p> - -<p>The men led away their horses, which sorely needed tending, and they -mounted the wooden causeway side by side, both feeling foolish, yet sure -they had done right. In the doorway stood Peter Vassip with his lantern.</p> - -<p>"Your business, gentlemen?" he said. It was between two and three in the -morning.</p> - -<p>They looked at each other; Zerkovitch was quicker, and with a courteous -gesture invited his companion to take precedence.</p> - -<p>"Private and urgent—with his Royal Highness."</p> - -<p>"So is mine, Peter," said Zerkovitch.</p> - -<p>Markart's humor was touched again; he began to laugh. Zerkovitch -laughed, too, but there was a touch of excitement and nervousness in his -mirth.</p> - -<p>"His Royal Highness went to bed an hour ago," said Peter Vassip.</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid you must rouse him. My business is immediate," said Markart. -"And I suppose yours is too, Monsieur Zerkovitch?" he added jokingly.</p> - -<p>"That it is," said Zerkovitch.</p> - -<p>"I'll rouse the Prince. Will you follow me, gentlemen?"</p> - -<p>Peter closed and barred the gate, and they followed him through the -court-yard. A couple of sentries were pacing it; for the rest, all was -still. Peter led them into a small room, where a fire was burning, and -left them together. Side by side they stood close to the fire; each -flung away his coat and tried to dry his boots and breeches at the -comforting blaze.</p> - -<p>"We must keep this story a secret, or we shall be laughed at by all -Slavna, Monsieur Zerkovitch."</p> - -<p>Zerkovitch gave him a sharp glance. "I should think you would report -your discreet conduct to your superiors, Captain. Orders are orders, -secrecy is secrecy, even though it turns out that there was no need for -it."</p> - -<p>Markart was about to reply with a joke when the Prince entered. He -greeted both cordially, showing, of course, in Markart's presence, no -surprise at Zerkovitch's arrival.</p> - -<p>"There will be rooms and food and wine ready for you, gentlemen, in a -few minutes. Captain Markart, you must rest here for to-night, for your -horse's sake as well as your own. I suppose your business will wait till -the morning?"</p> - -<p>"My orders were to lose not a moment in communicating it to you, sir."</p> - -<p>"Very well. You're from his Majesty?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>"The King comes first—and I dare say your affair will wait, -Zerkovitch?"</p> - -<p>Zerkovitch protested with an eagerness by no means discreet in the -presence of a third party—an aide-de-camp to Stenovics!—"No, sir, -no—it can't wait an—"</p> - -<p>The Prince interrupted. "Nonsense, man, nonsense! Now go to your room. -I'll come in and bid you 'Good-night.'" He pushed his over-zealous -friend from the room, calling to Peter Vassip to guide him to the -apartment he was to occupy. Then he came back to Markart. "Now, -Captain!"</p> - -<p>Markart took out his letter and presented it with a salute. "Sit down -while I read it," said the Prince, seating himself at the table.</p> - -<p>The Prince read his letter, and sat playing with it in his fingers for -half a minute or so. Then a thought seemed to strike him. "Heavens, I -never told Peter to light fires! I hope he has. You're wet—and -Zerkovitch is terribly liable to take cold." He jumped up. "Excuse me; -we have no bells in this old place, you know." He ran out of the room, -closing the door behind him.</p> - -<p>Markart sprang to the door. He did not dare to open it, but he listened -to the Prince's footsteps. They sounded to the left—one, two, three, -four, five, six paces. They stopped—a door opened and shut. Markart -made a mental note and went back to the fire, smiling. He thought that -idea of his really would please General Stenovics.</p> - -<p>In three minutes the Prince returned. "I did Peter -injustice—Zerkovitch's fire is all right," he said. "And there's a good -one in your room, too, he tells me. And now, Captain Markart, to our -business. You know the contents of the letter you carried?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir. They were communicated to me, in view of their urgency, and -in case of accident to the letter."</p> - -<p>"As a matter of form, repeat the gist to me."</p> - -<p>"General Stenovics has to inform your Royal Highness on the King's -behalf that his Majesty sees no need of a personal interview, as his -mind is irrevocably fixed, and he orders your Royal Highness to set out -for Germany within three days from the receipt of this letter. No -pretext is to delay your Royal Highness's departure."</p> - -<p>"Perfectly correct, Captain. To-morrow I shall give you an answer -addressed directly to the King. But I wish now to give you a message to -General Stenovics. I shall ask the King for an audience. Unless he -appoints a time within two days, I shall conclude that he has not had -the letter, or—pray mark this—has not enjoyed an opportunity of -considering it independently. General Stenovics must consider what a -responsibility he undertakes if he advises the King to refuse to see his -son. I shall await his Majesty's answer here. That is the message. You -understand?"</p> - -<p>"Perfectly, sir."</p> - -<p>"Just repeat it. The terms are important."</p> - -<p>Markart obeyed. The Prince nodded his head. "You shall have the letter -for the King early in the morning. Now for bed! I'll show you to your -room."</p> - -<p>They went out and turned to the left. Markart counted their paces. At -six paces they came to a door—and passed it. Four farther on, the -Prince ushered him into the room where he was to sleep. It was evident -that the Prince had made personal inspection of the state of Monsieur -Zerkovitch's fire!</p> - -<p>"Good-night, Captain. By-the-way, the King continues well?"</p> - -<p>"Dr. Natcheff says, sir, that he doesn't think his Majesty was ever -better in his life."</p> - -<p>The Prince looked at him for just a moment with a reflective smile. "Ah, -and a trustworthy man, Natcheff! Good-night!"</p> - -<p>Markart did not see much reason to think that the question, the look, -the smile, and the comment had any significance. But there would be no -harm in submitting the point to General Stenovics. Pondering over this, -he forgot to count the Prince's paces this time. If he had counted, the -sum would have been just four. Monsieur Zerkovitch's fire needed another -royal inspection—it needed it almost till the break of day.</p> - -<p>"The King's life hangs by a hair, and your Crown by a thread." That was -the warning which Lepage had given and Zerkovitch had carried through -the night.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII</h2> - -<h3>JOYFUL OF HEART</h3> - - -<p>The storm had passed; day broke calm and radiant over the Castle of -Praslok; sunshine played caressingly on the lake and on the hills.</p> - -<p>Markart had breakfasted and paid a visit to his horse; he wanted to be -off by nine o'clock, and waited only for the Prince's letter. He was -returning from the stables, sniffing the morning air with a vivid -enjoyment of the change of weather, when he saw Sophy coming along the -road. She had been for a walk. Her eyes and cheeks glowed with -exhilaration. She wore her sheepskin tunic, her sheepskin cap with its -red cockade, and her short, blue skirt over high boots. She walked as -though on the clouds of heaven, a wonderful lightness in her tread; the -Red Star signalled the exaltation of her spirit; the glad sound of the -trumpet rang in her heart.</p> - -<p>Her cordial greeting to Markart was spiced with raillery, to which he -responded as well as his ignorance allowed; he was uncertain how much -she knew of the real situation. But if his tongue was embarrassed, his -eyes spoke freely. He could not keep them from her face; to him she -seemed a queen of life and joy that glorious morning.</p> - -<p>"You've recovered from your fright?" she asked. "Poor Monsieur -Zerkovitch is still sleeping his off, I suppose! Oh, the story's all -over the Castle!"</p> - -<p>"It'll be all over the country soon," said Markart with a rueful smile.</p> - -<p>"Well, after all, Monsieur Zerkovitch is a journalist, and journalists -don't spare even themselves, you know. And you're not a reticent person, -are you? Don't you remember all the information you gave me once?"</p> - -<p>"Ah, on the terrace of the Hôtel de Paris! Much has happened since then, -Baroness."</p> - -<p>"Much always happens, if you keep your eyes open," said Sophy.</p> - -<p>"If you keep yours open, nothing happens for me but looking at them."</p> - -<p>She laughed merrily; a compliment never displeased Sophy, and she could -bear it very downright.</p> - -<p>"But if I were to shut my eyes, what would you do then?"</p> - -<p>He looked doubtfully at her mocking face; she meant a little more than -the idle words naturally carried.</p> - -<p>"I don't think you'll give me the chance of considering, Baroness." He -indicated her costume with a gesture of his hand. "You've entered the -service, I see?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, Captain Markart, the King's service. We are brethren—you serve -him, too?"</p> - -<p>"I have that honor." Markart flushed under her laughing scrutiny.</p> - -<p>"We fight shoulder to shoulder then. Well, not quite. I'm a gunner, you -see."</p> - -<p>"Minus your guns, at present!"</p> - -<p>"Not for long!" She turned round and swept her arms out towards the lake -and the hills. "It's a day to think of nothing—just to go riding, -riding, riding!" Her laugh rang out in merry longing.</p> - -<p>"What prevents you?"</p> - -<p>"My military duties, perhaps, Captain," she answered. "You're lucky—you -have a long ride; don't spoil it by thinking!"</p> - -<p>"I think? Oh no, Baroness! I only obey my orders."</p> - -<p>"And they never make you think?" Her glance was quick at him for an -instant.</p> - -<p>"There's danger in thinking too much, even for ladies," he told her.</p> - -<p>She looked at him more gravely, for his eyes were on her now with a -kindly, perhaps a remorseful, look.</p> - -<p>"You mean that for me?" she asked. "But if I, too, only obey my orders?"</p> - -<p>"With all my heart I hope they may lead you into no danger," he said.</p> - -<p>"There's only one danger in all the world—losing what you love."</p> - -<p>"Not, sometimes, gaining it?" he asked quickly.</p> - -<p>"Still, the only danger would be of losing it again."</p> - -<p>"There's life, too," he remarked with a shrug.</p> - -<p>"Sir, we're soldiers!" she cried in merry reproof.</p> - -<p>"That doesn't prevent me from prizing your life, Baroness, in the -interests of a world not too rich in what you contribute to it."</p> - -<p>Sophy looked at him, a subtle merriment in her eyes. "I think, Captain -Markart, that, if you were my doctor, you'd advise me to try—a change -of air! Praslok is too exciting, is that it? But I found Slavna—well, -far from relaxing, you know!"</p> - -<p>"The Kravonian climate as a whole, Baroness—"</p> - -<p>"Oh no, no, that's too much!" she interrupted. Then she said: "It's very -kind of you—yes, I mean that—and it's probably—I don't know—but -probably against your orders. So I thank you. But I can face even the -rigors of Kravonia."</p> - -<p>She held out her hand; he bent and kissed it. "In fact, I hadn't the -least right to say it," he confessed. "Not the least from any point of -view. It's your fault, though, Baroness."</p> - -<p>"Since I'm party to the crime, I'll keep the secret," she promised with -a decidedly kindly glance. To Sophy, admiration of herself always argued -something good in a man; she had none of that ungracious scorn which -often disfigures the smile of beauty. She gave a little sigh, followed -quickly by a smile.</p> - -<p>"We've said all we possibly can to one another, you and I; more than we -could, perhaps! And now—to duty!" She pointed to the door of the -Castle.</p> - -<p>The Prince was coming down the wooden causeway. He, too, wore the -Volseni sheepskins. In his hand he carried a sealed letter. Almost at -the same moment a groom led Markart's horse from the stables. The Prince -joined them and, after a bow to Sophy, handed the letter to Markart.</p> - -<p>"For his Majesty. And you remember my message to General Stenovics?"</p> - -<p>"Accurately, sir."</p> - -<p>"Good!" He gave Markart his hand. "Good-bye—a pleasant ride to you, -Captain—pleasanter than last night's." His grave face broke into a -smile.</p> - -<p>"I'm not to have Monsieur Zerkovitch's company this time, sir?"</p> - -<p>"Why, no, Captain. You see, Zerkovitch left the Castle soon after six -o'clock. Rather a short night, yes, but he was in a hurry."</p> - -<p>Sophy burst into a laugh at the dismay on Markart's face. "We neither of -us knew that, Captain Markart, did we?" she cried. "We thought he was -sleeping off the fright you'd given him!"</p> - -<p>"Your Royal Highness gives me leave—?" stammered Markart, his eye on -his horse.</p> - -<p>"Certainly, Captain. But don't be vexed, there will be no invidious -comparisons. Zerkovitch doesn't propose to report himself to General -Stenovics immediately on his arrival."</p> - -<p>Good-natured Markart joined in the laugh at his own expense. "I'm hardly -awake yet; he must be made of iron, that Zerkovitch!"</p> - -<p>"Quicksilver!" smiled the Prince. As Markart mounted, he added: "Au -revoir!"</p> - -<p>Markart left the two standing side by side—the Prince's serious face -lit up with a rare smile, Sophy's beauty radiant in merriment. His own -face fell as he rode away. "I half wish I was in the other camp," he -grumbled. But Stenovics's power held him—and the fear of Stafnitz. He -went back to a work in which his heart no longer was; for his heart had -felt Sophy's spell.</p> - -<p>"You can have had next to no sleep all night, Monseigneur," said Sophy -in reproach mingled with commiseration.</p> - -<p>"I don't need it; the sight of your face refreshes me. We must talk. -Zerkovitch brought news."</p> - -<p>In low, grave tones he told her the tidings, and the steps which he and -Zerkovitch had taken.</p> - -<p>"I understand my father's reasons for keeping me in the dark; he meant -it well, but he was blinded by this idea about my marriage. But I see, -too, how it fitted in with Stenovics's ideas. I think it's war between -us now—and I'm ready."</p> - -<p>Sophy was almost dazed. The King's life was not to be relied on for a -week—for a day—no, not for an hour! But she listened attentively. -Zerkovitch had gone back to Slavna on a fresh horse and at top speed; he -would have more than two hours' lead of Markart. His first duty was to -open communications with Lepage and arrange that the valet should send -to him all the information which came to his ears, and any impressions -which he was able to gather in the Palace. Zerkovitch would forward the -reports to Praslok immediately, so long as the Prince remained at the -Castle. But the Prince was persuaded that his father would not refuse to -see him, now that he knew the true state of the case. "My father is -really attached to me," he said, "and if I see him, I'm confident that I -can persuade him of the inexpediency of my leaving the kingdom just now. -A hint of my suspicions with regard to the Countess and Stenovics would -do it; but I'm reluctant to risk giving him such a shock. I think I can -persuade him without."</p> - -<p>"But is it safe for you to trust yourself at Slavna—in the Palace? And -alone?"</p> - -<p>"I must risk the Palace alone—and I'm not much afraid. Stenovics might -go to war with me, but I don't think he'd favor assassination. And to -Slavna I sha'n't go alone. Our gunners will go with us, Sophy. We have -news of the guns being on the way; there will be nothing strange in my -marching the gunners down to meet them. They're only half-trained, even -in drill, but they're brave fellows. We'll take up our quarters with -them in Suleiman's Tower. I don't fear all Slavna if I hold Suleiman's -Tower with three hundred Volsenians. Stafnitz may do his worst!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I see," she answered, thoughtfully. "I can't come with you to -Suleiman's Tower, though."</p> - -<p>"Only if there are signs of danger. Then you and Marie must come; if all -is quiet, you can stay in her house. We can meet often—as often as -possible. For the rest, we must wait."</p> - -<p>She saw that they must wait. It was impossible to approach the King on -the matter of Sophy. It cut dead at the heart of his ambition; it would -be a shock as great as the discovery of Countess Ellenburg's ambitions. -It could not be risked.</p> - -<p>"But if, under Stenovics's influence, the King does refuse to see you?" -she asked—"Refuses to see you, and repeats his orders?"</p> - -<p>The Prince's face grew very grave, but his voice was firm.</p> - -<p>"Not even the King—not even my father—can bid me throw away the -inheritance which is mine. The hand would be the King's, but the voice -the voice of Stenovics. I shouldn't obey; they'd have to come to Volseni -and take me."</p> - -<p>Sophy's eyes kindled. "Yes, that's right!" she said. "And for to-day?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing will happen to-day—unless, by chance, the thing which we now -know may happen any day; and of that we shouldn't hear till evening. And -there's no drill even. I sent the men to their homes on forty-eight -hours' furlough yesterday morning." His face relaxed in a smile. "I -think to-day we can have a holiday, Sophy."</p> - -<p>She clapped her hands in glee. "Oh, Monseigneur, a holiday!"</p> - -<p>"It may be the last for a long time," he said; "so we must enjoy it."</p> - -<p>This day—this holiday which might be the last—passed in a fine -carelessness and a rich joy in living. The cloudless sky and the -glittering waters of Lake Talti were parties to their pleasure, whether -as they rode far along the shore, or sat and ate a simple meal on the -rock-strewn margin. Hopes and fears, dangers and stern resolves, were -forgotten; even of the happier issues which the future promised, or -dangled before their eyes, there was little thought or speech. The blood -of youth flowed briskly, the heart of youth rose high. The grave Prince -joked, jested, and paid his court; Sophy's eyes gleamed with the fun as -not even the most exalted and perilous adventure could make them -sparkle.</p> - -<p>"Oh, it's good," she cried—"good to live and see the sun! Monseigneur, -I believe I'm a pagan—a sun-worshipper! When he's good enough to warm -me through, and to make the water glitter for me, and shadows dance in -such a cunning pattern on the hills, then I think I've done something -that he likes, and that he's pleased with me!" She sprang to her feet -and stretched out her hands towards the sun. "In the grave, I believe, I -shall remember the glorious light; my memory of that could surely never -die!"</p> - -<p>His was the holiday mood, too. He fell in with her extravagance, meeting -it with banter.</p> - -<p>"It's only a lamp," he said, "just a lamp; and it's hung there for the -sole purpose of showing Sophy's eyes. When she's not there, they put it -out—for what's the use of it?"</p> - -<p>"They put it out when I'm not there?"</p> - -<p>"I've noticed it happen a dozen times of late."</p> - -<p>"It lights up again when I come, Monseigneur?"</p> - -<p>"Ah, then I forget to look!"</p> - -<p>"You get very little sun anyhow, then!"</p> - -<p>"I've something so much better."</p> - -<p>It is pathetic to read—pathetic that she should have set it down as -though every word of it were precious—set it down as minutely as she -chronicled the details of the critical hours to which fate was soon to -call her.</p> - -<p>Yet, was she wrong? Days of idleness are not always the emptiest; life -may justify its halts; our spirits may mount to their sublimest pitch in -hours of play. At least, the temper of that holiday, and her eager -prizing and recording of it, show well the manner of woman that she -was—her passionate love of beauty, her eager stretching out to all that -makes life beautiful, her spirit, sensitive to all around, taking color -from this and that, reflecting back every ray which the bounty of nature -or of man poured upon it, her great faculty of living. She wasted no -days or hours. Ever receiving, ever giving, she spent her sojourn in a -world that for her did much, yet never could do enough, to which she -gave a great love, yet never seemed to herself to be able to give -enough. Perhaps she was not wrong when she called herself a pagan. She -was of the religion of joy; her kindest thought of the grave was that -haply through some chink in its dark walls there might creep one tiny -sunbeam of memory.</p> - -<p>They rode home together as the sun was setting—a sun of ruddy gold, -behind it one bright, purple cloud, the sky beyond blue, deepening -almost into black. When Praslok came in sight, she laid her hand on his -with a long-drawn sigh.</p> - -<p>"We have been together to-day," she said. "That will be there always. -Yes, the sun and the world were made for us this day—and we have been -worthy."</p> - -<p>He pressed her hand. "You were sent to teach me what joy is—the worth -of the world to men who live in it. You're the angel of joy, Sophy. -Before you came, I had missed that lesson."</p> - -<p>"I'm very glad"—thus she ends her own record of this day of -glory—"that I've brought joy to Monseigneur. He faces his fight joyful -of heart." And then, with one of her absurd, deplorable, irresistible -lapses into the merest ordinary feminine, she adds: "That red badge is -just the touch my sheepskin cap wanted!"</p> - -<p>Oh, Sophy, Sophy, what of that for a final reflection on the eve of -Monseigneur's fight?</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII</h2> - -<h3>A DELICATE DUTY</h3> - - -<p>There was a stir in Slavna; excitement was gradually growing, not -unmixed with uneasiness; gossip was busy at the Hôtel de Paris and at -the Golden Lion. Men clustered in groups and talked, while their wives -said that they would be better at home, minding their business and -letting politics alone. Knowledge was far to seek; rumors were -plentiful. Dr. Natcheff might be as reassuring as he pleased—but he had -spent the night at the Palace! All was quiet in the city, but news came -of the force that was being raised in Volseni, and the size of the force -lost nothing as the report passed from mouth to mouth. Little as Slavna -loved the Prince, it was not eager to fight him. A certain reaction in -his favor set in. If they did not love him, they held him in sincere -respect; if he meant to fight, then they were not sure that they did!</p> - -<p>Baroness Dobrava's name, too, was much on men's lips; stories about -Sophy were bandied to and fro; people began to remember that they had -from the beginning thought her very remarkable—a force to be reckoned -with. The superstitious ideas about her made their first definite -appearance now. She had bewitched the Prince, they said, and the men of -the hills, too; the whole mountain country would rise at her bidding and -sweep down on Slavna in rude warfare and mad bravery. The Sheepskins -would come, following the Red Star!</p> - -<p>The citizens of Slavna did not relish the prospect; at the best it would -be very bad for trade; at the worst it would mean blood and death let -loose in the streets. A stern ruler was better than civil war. The -troops of the garrison were no longer such favorites as they had been; -even Captain Hercules subdued his demeanor (which, indeed, had never -quite recovered from the chastisement of the Prince's sword) to a -self-effacing discretion. He, too, in his heart, and in his heavy, -primitive brain, had an uneasy feeling about the witch with the Red -Star; had she not been the beginning of trouble? But for her, Sterkoff's -long knife would have set an end to the whole chapter long ago!</p> - -<p>The time was short and the omens doubtful. It was the moment for a bold -stroke, for a forcing game. The waverers must be shown where power lay, -whose was the winning side.</p> - -<p>Captain Markart arrived at Slavna at one o'clock. Zerkovitch had used -his start well and reached the city nearly three hours earlier. When -Markart told Stenovics (he reported himself at once to the General) how -he had been outwitted, Stenovics smiled, saying: "I know, and I know -what he has done since he got here. They stole a march on you, but not -on me, Captain. And now—your story!" He listened to Markart's tale with -a frowning brow, and then dismissed him, saying: "You will meet me at -the Palace. We meet the King in conference at four o'clock." But the -General himself went to the Palace long before four, and he and Stafnitz -were closeted with Countess Ellenburg. Lepage, returning from a walk to -the city at two o'clock, saw the General arrive on horseback. -Lieutenant Rastatz saw Lepage arrive—ay, and had seen him set out, and -marked all his goings; but of this Lepage was unconscious. The little -lieutenant was not much of a soldier, but he was an excellent spy. -Lepage had been with Zerkovitch.</p> - -<p>The King was confined to his apartments, a suite of six rooms on the -first floor, facing the river. Here he had his own sitting-room, -dressing, and bedrooms. Besides these there were the little cupboard -Lepage slept in, and a spare room, which at present accommodated Dr. -Natcheff. The sixth room was occupied by odds and ends, including the -tackle, rods, and other implements of his Majesty's favorite pastime. -The council was held in the sitting-room. Natcheff and Lepage were not -present, but each was in his own room, ready for any possible call on -his services. Markart was there, first to tell his story and deliver his -letter, secondly in his capacity as secretary to General Stenovics. The -Countess and Stafnitz completed the party.</p> - -<p>The King was anxious, worried, obviously unwell; his voice trembled as -he read aloud his son's letter. It was brief but dutiful, and even -affectionate. After a slight reproach that he should have been kept in -ignorance of the apprehensions entertained about the King's health, the -Prince requested an audience within the next two days; he had -considerations which it was his duty to lay before his Majesty, and he -firmly but respectfully claimed the right of confidential communication -with his father; that was essential to his Majesty's obtaining a true -appreciation of his views. The hit at Stenovics was plain enough, and -the Prince did not labor it. The letter ended there, with an expression -of earnest concern for the King's health. There was no word in it about -starting on his journey.</p> - -<p>Then Markart told his story—not that he had much to tell. In essence he -added only that the Prince proposed to await the King's answer at -Praslok. Neither to him had the Prince said a word about starting on his -journey.</p> - -<p>On this point Stenovics seized, pursuant, no doubt, to the plan devised -in that preliminary discussion with the other two members of the little -<i>coterie</i>.</p> - -<p>"It is remarkable, sir—even more than remarkable—that his Royal -Highness makes no reference at all to the direct command which your -Majesty was pleased to issue to him," he observed.</p> - -<p>The King listened, puzzled and rather distressed. "Yes, it isn't proper, -it isn't respectful. But now that my son knows of the state of my -health, I think I must see him. It seems unnatural to refuse. After all, -it may be the last time—since he's going on this journey."</p> - -<p>"But is the Prince going on his journey, sir?" asked Stenovics. "Does -the studied silence of his letter augur well for his obedience? Doesn't -he seek an interview in order to persuade your Majesty against your -better judgment? I must be pardoned freedom of speech. Great interests -are at stake." The last words were true enough, though not in the sense -in which the King was meant to understand them.</p> - -<p>"My son knows how near this matter is to my heart. I shall be able to -persuade him to do his duty," said the King.</p> - -<p>The first round of the fight was going against the <i>coterie</i>. They did -not want the King to see his son. Danger lay there. The Prince's was the -stronger character; it might well prevail; and they were no longer -certain that the Prince knew or guessed nothing of their hopes and -intentions; how much news had Zerkovitch carried to Praslok the night -before? Stenovics addressed the King again.</p> - -<p>"Captain Markart gathered that the Prince was reluctant to interrupt the -military training on which he is engaged at Volseni, sir."</p> - -<p>"A very excellent thing, that; but the other matter is more urgent. I -shouldn't change my mind on account of that."</p> - -<p>"A personal interview might be trying to your Majesty."</p> - -<p>The King looked annoyed, possibly a little suspicious. "You've no other -objection than that to urge, General Stenovics?"</p> - -<p>Stenovics had none other which he could produce. "No, sir," he said.</p> - -<p>"While I'm here I must do my duty—and I shall induce my son to do his. -I'll receive the Prince of Slavna in private audience to-morrow or next -day. I'll fix the precise time later, and I'll write the letter myself."</p> - -<p>The decision was final—and it was defeat so far. There was a moment's -silence. Markart saw Colonel Stafnitz nod his head, almost -imperceptibly, towards Countess Ellenburg. The need and the moment for -reinforcements had come; the Colonel was calling them up. The order of -battle had been well considered in Countess Ellenburg's apartments! The -second line came into action. The Countess began with a question, put -with a sneer:</p> - -<p>"Did no other reason for the Prince's unwillingness to set out on his -journey suggest itself to Captain Markart from what he saw at Praslok?"</p> - -<p>The King turned sharply round to her, then to Markart. "Well?" he asked -the latter.</p> - -<p>Markart was sadly embarrassed.</p> - -<p>"Who was at Praslok?" asked the Countess.</p> - -<p>"Madame Zerkovitch, and her husband for one night, and Baroness -Dobrava."</p> - -<p>"Yes, Baroness Dobrava!"</p> - -<p>"She's still there?" asked the King. He looked perplexed, even vexed, -but again he smiled. He looked at Stenovics and Stafnitz, but this time -he found no responsive smiles. Their faces were deadly serious. "Oh, -come, well—well, that's not serious. Natural, perhaps, but—the Prince -has a sense of duty. He'll see that that won't do. And we'll send the -Baroness a hint—we'll tell her how much we miss her at Slavna." He -tried to make them answer his smile and accept his smoothing away of the -difficulty. It was all a failure.</p> - -<p>"I'm bound to say, sir, that I consider Baroness Dobrava a serious -obstacle to his Royal Highness's obeying your wishes—a serious -obstacle," said Stenovics.</p> - -<p>"Then we must get her away, General."</p> - -<p>"Will he let her go?" snapped the Countess.</p> - -<p>"I must order it, if it comes to that," said the King. "These -little—er—affairs—these—what?—holiday flirtations—"</p> - -<p>The Countess lost—or appeared to lose—control of herself suddenly. -"Little affairs! Holiday flirtations! If it were only that, it would be -beneath your notice, sir, and beneath mine. It's more than that!"</p> - -<p>The King started and leaned forward, looking at her. She rose to her -feet, crying: "More than that! While we sit talking here, he may be -marrying that woman!"</p> - -<p>"Marrying her?" cried the King; his face turned red, and then, as the -blood ebbed again, became very pale.</p> - -<p>"That's what she means—yes, and what he means, too!"</p> - -<p>The King was aghast. The second assault struck home—struck at his -dearest hopes and wounded his most intimate ambitions. But he was still -incredulous. He spread out trembling hands, turning from the vehement -woman to his two counsellors.</p> - -<p>"Gentlemen!" he said, imploringly, with out-stretched hands.</p> - -<p>They were silent—grave and silent.</p> - -<p>"Captain Markart, you—you saw anything to suggest this—this terrible -idea?"</p> - -<p>The fire was hot on poor Markart again. He stammered and stuttered.</p> - -<p>"The—the Baroness seemed to have much influence, sir; to—to hold a -very high position in the Prince's regard; to—to be in his -confidence—"</p> - -<p>"Yes!" struck in the Countess. "She wears the uniform of his artillery! -Isn't that a compliment usually reserved for ladies of royal rank? I -appeal to you, Colonel Stafnitz!"</p> - -<p>"In most services it is so, I believe, Countess," the Colonel answered -gravely.</p> - -<p>"But I should never allow it—and without my consent—"</p> - -<p>"It might be invalid, sir, though there's some doubt about that. But it -would be a fatal bar to our German project. Even an influence short of -actual marriage—"</p> - -<p>"She means marriage, I say, marriage!" The Countess was quite rudely -impatient of her ally—which was very artistic. "An ambitious and -dangerous woman! She has taken advantage of the favor the King showed -her."</p> - -<p>"And if I died?" asked the King.</p> - -<p>Stenovics shrugged his shoulders. "Of course, there would be no control -then," said he.</p> - -<p>The King looked round. "We must get her away from Praslok."</p> - -<p>"Will she come?" jeered the Countess. "Not she! Will he let her go? Not -he!"</p> - -<p>The King passed his hand weakly across his brow. Then he rang a bell on -the table. Lepage entered, and the King bade him bring him the draught -which Natcheff had prescribed for his nerves. Well might the unfortunate -man feel the need of it, between the Countess's open eruption and the -not less formidable calm of Stenovics and Stafnitz! And all his favorite -dreams in danger!</p> - -<p>"She won't leave him—or he'll follow her. The woman has infatuated -him!" the Countess persisted.</p> - -<p>"Pray, madame, let me think," said the harassed and sick King. "We must -open communications with Baroness Dobrava."</p> - -<p>"May I suggest that the matter might prove urgent, sir?" said Stenovics.</p> - -<p>"Every hour is full of danger," declared the Countess.</p> - -<p>The King held up his hand for silence. Then he took paper and pen, and -wrote with his own hand some lines. He signed the document and folded -it. His face was now firm and calmer. The peril to his greatest -hopes—perhaps a sense of the precarious tenure of his power—seemed to -impart to him a new promptness, a decision alien to his normal -character. "Colonel Stafnitz!" he said in a tone of command.</p> - -<p>The Colonel rose to his feet and saluted. From an adviser in council he -became in a moment a soldier on duty.</p> - -<p>"I am about to entrust to you a duty of great delicacy. I choose you -because, short of General Stenovics himself, there is no man in whom I -have such confidence. To-morrow morning you will go to Praslok and -inform his Royal Highness that you have a communication from me for -Baroness Dobrava. If the Prince is absent, you will see the Baroness -herself. If she is absent, you will follow her and find her. The matter -is urgent. You will tell her that it is my request that she at once -accompany you back here to the Palace, where I shall receive her and -acquaint her with my further wishes. If she asks of these, say that you -are not empowered to tell her anything; she must learn them from myself. -If she makes any demur about accompanying you immediately, or if demur -is made or delay suggested from any quarter, you will say that my -request is a command. If that is not sufficient, you will produce this -paper. It is an order under my hand, addressed to you and directing you -to arrest Baroness Dobrava and escort her here to my presence, -notwithstanding any objection or resistance, which any person whatever -will offer at his peril. You will be back here by to-morrow evening, -with the Baroness in your charge. Do it without employing the order for -arrest if possible, but do it anyhow and at all costs. Do you -understand?"</p> - -<p>"Perfectly, sir. Am I to take an escort?"</p> - -<p>The answer to that question was anxiously considered—and awaited -anxiously.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said the King, "you will. The precise force I leave to your -discretion. It should be large enough to make you secure from -hinderance by any act short of open and armed resistance to my -commands."</p> - -<p>Stafnitz saluted again, and at a sign from the King resumed his seat. -The King's manner relaxed as he turned to Stenovics. "When we've got her -here, we'll reason with her—she'll hear reason—and persuade her that -her health will benefit by a foreign trip. If necessary, I shall cause -her to be deported. She must be out of Kravonia in three days unless she -can clear herself from all suspicion. I'll arrange that the Prince -sha'n't come for his audience until she is well out of Slavna. It is, of -course, absolutely essential that no word of this should pass the walls -of this room. If once a hint of it reached Praslok, the task of laying -our hands on the Baroness might become infinitely more difficult."</p> - -<p>The three were well pleased. They had come to fear Sophy, and on that -score alone would be right glad to see the last of her. And when she had -gone, there was a fairer chance that the Prince, too, would go on his -travels; whether he went after her or not they cared little, so that he -went, and the recruiting and training at Volseni were interrupted.</p> - -<p>Again, she was to go before the audience. That was another point. The -peril of the audience remained, but they had improved their chances. -Perhaps Stafnitz's brain was already busy with the possibilities of his -mission and his escort. The latter was to be large enough to make him -secure from hinderance by any act short of open and armed resistance to -the King's commands. If it were impossible (as his Majesty obviously -considered) to contemplate such resistance, it was evidently no less -impossible to reckon what might happen as a consequence of it.</p> - -<p>The King rang his bell impatiently. "I want my draught again. I'm very -tired. Is there anything else which need detain us to-day?"</p> - -<p>As he spoke, before Stenovics could answer, Lepage came in with the -draught. The valet wore an even unusually demure and uninterested -expression.</p> - -<p>"There is one other matter, sir," said Stenovics.</p> - -<p>The King paused in the act of drinking and listened with his glass in -his hand, Lepage standing beside him.</p> - -<p>"Your Majesty just now impressed on us the need of secrecy as to what -passes between these walls. I think, sir, you would insist on the same -thing with all who serve you confidentially. You haven't asked, sir, how -the Prince became aware of the state of your Majesty's health."</p> - -<p>The King started a little. "No, I forgot that. It was against my direct -orders. How was it?"</p> - -<p>Stenovics kept his eyes on the King; Markart and Stafnitz allowed -themselves to study Lepage's features; he stood the scrutiny well.</p> - -<p>"The news, sir, was betrayed by a man within these walls—a man in close -touch with your Majesty."</p> - -<p>"Natcheff!" exclaimed the King.</p> - -<p>"Certainly not, sir. Another. This man, of whom I had suspicions, and -whom I caused to be watched, went by night to the house of Monsieur -Zerkovitch, who is, as you are aware, a close friend and (if I may use -the word) an adherent of the Prince of Slavna. Their interview took -place between nine and ten last night. At eleven Zerkovitch, having -borrowed a horse from the Prince's stables, set out for Praslok. He rode -hard through the night and reached the Castle, as Captain Markart has -told us, in the small hours of the morning. There he had an interview -with the Prince. He left Praslok between six and seven in the morning -and arrived at his house on the south boulevard by eleven. At half-past -eleven he walked up the Street of the Fountain, crossed St. Michael's -Square, and entered a small inn in a little alley behind the Cathedral. -Here the man I speak of was waiting for him. They were together half an -hour. Zerkovitch then left. The man remained till one, then came out, -and returned to the Palace by a circuitous route, arriving here about -two o'clock. I venture to say that the meaning of all this is quite -clear. This man is in communication with Praslok, using Zerkovitch as -his intermediary. It's for your Majesty to say how far his disobedience -in regard to acquainting the Prince with your condition is a serious -offence. As to that I say nothing. But it will be obvious that this man -should know nothing of any private measures undertaken or contemplated."</p> - -<p>The King had listened carefully. "The case seems clear," he said. "This -fellow's a traitor. He's done harm already, and may do more. What do you -ask, General?"</p> - -<p>"We might be content to let him know nothing. But who can be quite -certain of insuring that? Sir, you have just arrived at a very important -decision—to take certain action. Absolute secrecy is essential to its -success. I've no wish to press hardly on this man, but I feel bound to -urge that he should be put under arrest and kept in the charge of a -person who is beyond suspicion until the action to which I refer has -been successfully carried out."</p> - -<p>"The precaution is an obvious one, and the punishment hardly -sufficient." The King rose. "Do as you say, General. I leave you full -discretion. And now I'll go to my room and rest. I'm very tired. Give -me your arm, Lepage, and come and make me comfortable."</p> - -<p>Lepage did not offer his arm. He was not looking at the King, nor -listening to him; his eyes and his ears were for General Stenovics. -Stenovics rose now and pointed his finger at Lepage.</p> - -<p>"That, sir, is the man," said he.</p> - -<p>"Lepage!" cried the King, and sank heavily into his seat with a -bewildered face. Lepage—his familiar—the man he trusted!</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>XIV</h2> - -<h3>HIS MAJESTY DIES—TO-MORROW!</h3> - - -<p>The King's ambition and pride had quivered under the threat of a cruel -blow; the charge against Lepage wounded him hardly less deeply. He -regarded his body-servant with the trustful affection which grows on an -indolent man in course of years—of countless days of consulting, -trusting, relying on one ever present, ever ready, always trustworthy. -Lepage had been with him nearly thirty years; there was hardly a secret -of the King's manhood which he had not known and kept. At last had he -turned traitor?</p> - -<p>Stenovics had failed to allow for this human side of the matter; how -much more alone the revelation would make the King feel, how much more -exposed and helpless—just, moreover, when sickness made his invaluable -servant more indispensable still. A forlorn dignity filled the King's -simple question: "Is it true, Lepage?"</p> - -<p>Lepage's impassivity vanished. He, too, was deeply moved. The sense of -guilt was on him—of guilt against his master; it drove him on, beyond -itself, to a fierce rage against those who had goaded him into his -disobedience, whose action and plans had made his disobedience right. -For right now he believed and felt it; his talks with Zerkovitch had -crystallized his suspicions into confident certainty. He was carried -beyond thinking of what effect his outburst might have on his own -fortunes or how it might distress the already harassed King. He struck -back fiercely at his accuser, all his national quickness of passion -finding vent in the torrent of words he poured forth in excuse or -justification. He spoke his native French, very quickly, one word -jostling over another, his arms flying like windmills, and his hair -bristling, as it seemed, with defiance.</p> - -<p>"Yes, it's true, sir. I disobeyed your Majesty—for the first time in -thirty years! For the first time in my life, sir, I did it! And why? -Because it was right; because it was for honor. I was angry, yes! I had -been scolded because Count Alexis bade me call him 'Prince,' and you -heard me do it. Yes, I was angry. Was it my fault? Had I told him he was -a prince? No! Who had told him he was a prince? Don't ask me, sir. Ask -somebody else. For my part, I know well the difference between one who -is a prince and one who is not. Oh, I'm not ignorant of that! I know, -too, the difference between one who is a queen and one who is not—oh, -with the utmost respect to Madame la Comtesse! But I know it—and I -remember it. Does everybody else remember it?"</p> - -<p>He stopped for a moment and clutched at his stiff, tight collar, as -though to wrench it away from his neck, and let the stream of his words -flow even more freely. While he paused, nobody spoke. Stenovics's heavy -gaze was on the King, Stafnitz's eyes discreetly on the ceiling; the -Countess looked scared. Had they made a mistake? Would it have been -better to run the risk of what Lepage could do? The King's hands were on -the table in front of him; they trembled where they lay.</p> - -<p>"Why wasn't the Prince to know? Because then he wouldn't go on his -journey! His journey after the German princess!" He faced Stenovics now, -boldly and defiantly, pointing a forefinger at him. "Yes, they wanted -him to go. Yes, they did! Why, sir? To marry a princess—a great -princess? Was that what they wanted? Eh, but it would have been little -use for Count Alexis to ask me to call him a prince then! And Madame la -Comtesse—with the utmost respect to Madame la Comtesse—she wanted a -great princess here? Oh, she wanted that mightily, to be sure!"</p> - -<p>The King stirred uneasily in his chair.</p> - -<p>"Sir, will you listen to him?" the Countess broke in.</p> - -<p>His answer was cold: "I listen to every man before I order him to be -punished."</p> - -<p>"Yes, they wanted him to go. Yes, certainly! For he trains his men at -Volseni, trains them for his big guns. When the men are trained and the -guns have come—well, who'll call Count Alexis a prince then? Will even -they who taught him to think himself a prince? Oh yes; they wanted him -to go. And he wouldn't go if he knew your Majesty was ill. He loves your -Majesty. Yes! But if he hated you, still would he go?" With a sudden -turn he was round on Stenovics again, and threw out his arms as though -to embrace a picture. "Look! The Prince is away, the guns are come, the -King dies! Who commands in the Palace? Who governs Slavna?" He was back -to the King with another swift turn. "May I answer, sir? May I tell you? -The mother of Prince Alexis commands in the Palace; Slavna is ruled by -the friends of Captain Mistitch!" His voice fell to an ironical murmur. -"And the Prince is far off—seeking a great princess! Sir, do you see -the picture?"</p> - -<p>Stafnitz suddenly lowered his eyes from the ceiling and looked at the -gesticulating little man with a smile.</p> - -<p>"Such imagination in the servants' hall!" he murmured half under his -breath.</p> - -<p>The King neither rebuked his levity nor endorsed the insinuated satire. -He took no notice at all. His eyes were fixed on his still trembling -hands.</p> - -<p>Stenovics spoke in a calm, smooth voice. "Absolutely, sir, I believe the -man's honest!" he said, with an inflection of good-humored surprise. -"One sees how he got the idea! I'm sure he's genuinely devoted to your -Majesty, and to the Prince—as we all are. He sees something going on -which he doesn't understand; he knows something more is going on that -he's ignorant of. He knows the unfortunate condition of your Majesty's -health. He's like a nurse—forgive me—in charge of a sick child; he -thinks everybody but himself has designs on his charge. It's really -natural, however absurd—but it surely makes the precaution I suggested -even more necessary? If he went about spreading a tale like this!"</p> - -<p>The line was clever—cleverer far than the Countess's rage, cleverer -than Stafnitz's airily bitter sneer. But of it, too, the King took no -notice. Lepage took no more than lay in a very scornful smile. He leaned -down towards the motionless, dull-faced King, and said in his ear:</p> - -<p>"They wanted him to go, yes! Did they want him to come back again, sir?" -He bent a little lower, and almost whispered: "How long would his -journey have taken, sir? How long would it have taken him to get back -if—in case of need?" One more question he did not ask in words; but it -was plain enough without them: "How long can your Majesty count on -living?"</p> - -<p>At last the King raised his head and looked round on them. His eyes were -heavy and glassy.</p> - -<p>"This man has been my trusted servant for many, many years. You, General -Stenovics, have been my right hand, my other self. Colonel Stafnitz is -high in my confidence. And Lepage is only my servant."</p> - -<p>"I seek to stand no higher than any other of your Majesty's servants, -except in so far as the nature of my services gives me a claim," said -Stenovics.</p> - -<p>"But there's one here who stands far nearer to me than any one, who -stands nearer to me than any living being. She must know of this thing, -if it's true; if it's being done, her hand must be foremost among the -hands that are doing it." His eyes fixed themselves on the Countess's -face. "Is it true?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Sir, how can you ask? How can you listen? True! It's a malignant -invention. He's angry because I reproved him."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I'm angry. I said so. But it's true for all that."</p> - -<p>"Silence, Lepage! Am I to take your word against the Countess's?"</p> - -<p>Markart, a silent listener to all this scene, thought that Lepage's game -was up. Who could doubt what the Countess's word would be? Probably -Lepage, too, thought that he was beaten, that he was a ruined man. For -he played a desperate card—the last throw of a bankrupt player. Yet it -was guided by shrewdness, and by the intimate knowledge which his years -of residence in the Palace had given him. He knew the King well; and he -knew Countess Ellenburg hardly less thoroughly.</p> - -<p>"I speak truth, sir, as I believe it. But I can't expect you to take my -word against the Countess's. I have too much respect for Madame la -Comtesse to ask that."</p> - -<p>Again he bent down towards the King; the King looked up at him; -Stenovics's simile came back into the mind. In a low, soothing tone -Lepage made his throw—his last suggestion. "Madame la Comtesse is of -great piety. If Madame la Comtesse will take a solemn oath—well, then -I'm content! I'll say I was mistaken—honest, I declare, sir, but -mistaken."</p> - -<p>Stenovics raised his head with a sharp jerk. Stafnitz smiled scornfully; -he was thinking that Lepage was not, after all, a very resourceful -fellow. An oath! Great Heavens! Oaths were in the day's work when you -put your hand to affairs like this. But here Stenovics was wiser—and -Lepage was shrewder. Stafnitz generalized from an experience rather -one-sided; the other two knew the special case. When oaths were -mentioned—solemn oaths—Stenovics scented danger.</p> - -<p>The King knew his wife, too; and he was profoundly affected, convulsed -to the depths of his mind. The thing sounded true—it had a horrible -sound of truth. He craved the Countess's denial, solemn as it could be -framed. That would restore the confidence which was crumbling from -beneath his tormented, bewildered mind.</p> - -<p>"Can anybody object to that," he asked slowly, "if I say it will relieve -my mind?" He smiled apologetically. "I'm a sick man, you know. If it -will relieve a sick man's mind, banish a sick man's fancies? If I shall -sleep a little better—and old Lepage here be ashamed of himself?"</p> - -<p>None of them dared to object. None could plausibly, unless the Countess -herself—and she dared not. In his present mood the King would not -accept the plea of her dignity; against it he would set the indulgence -due to a sick man's rebellious fancies; could she, for her dignity's -sake, deny him what would make him sleep?</p> - -<p>He looked at her; something in her face appeared to strike him as -strange. A sort of quiver ran through his body; he seemed to pull -himself together with an effort; as he spoke to her, his voice sounded -faint and ever so slightly blurred.</p> - -<p>"You've heard Lepage, and I know that you'll speak the truth to me on -your oath—the truth about the thing nearest to the heart of a dying -man—nearest to the heart of your dying husband. You wouldn't lie on -oath to a dying man, your husband and your King. For I am dying. You -have years still; but they'll end. You believe that some day you and I -will stand together before the Throne. As you shall answer to Heaven in -that day, is this true? Was it in your heart, and in the heart of these -men, to keep my son, the heir of my House, from his throne? Is it true? -As you shall answer to God for your soul, is there any truth in it?"</p> - -<p>The woman went gray in the face—a sheet of gray paper seemed drawn over -her cheeks; her narrow lips showed a pale red streak across it. Her -prayers—those laborious, ingenious, plausible prayers—helped her -nothing here.</p> - -<p>"I protest! At this time, sir! The Countess will be upset!"</p> - -<p>Stenovics had been driven to this; he feared greatly. Not a soul heeded -him; every eye now was on the woman. She struggled—she struggled to -lie; she struggled to do what she believed would bring perdition to her -soul. Her voice was forced and harsh when at last she broke silence.</p> - -<p>"As I shall answer in that day—"</p> - -<p>"As you shall answer to God for your soul in that day—" the King -repeated.</p> - -<p>She gave a wild glance at Stenovics, seeking succor, finding no refuge. -Her eyes came back to the King's face. "As I shall answer—" Every word -came forth by its own self, with its separate birth-pang—"As I shall -answer to God for my soul—"</p> - -<p>She stopped. There was silence while a man might count ten. She threw -her hands above her head and broke into a violent torrent of sobs. "I -can't! I can't!" they heard her say through her tumultuous weeping.</p> - -<p>The King suddenly started back in his chair as though somebody had -offered to strike him. "You—you—you, my wife! You, Stenovics! You, -whom I trusted—trusted—trusted like—! Ah, is that you, Lepage? Did I -hear rightly—wouldn't she swear?"</p> - -<p>"With the utmost respect to Madame la Comtesse, she could not swear, -sir."</p> - -<p>The King sprang to his feet. "Go!" he cried.</p> - -<p>They all rose—the Countess shaken with unconquerable sobs. But the next -moment the King made a quick in-drawing of the breath, like a man -suddenly pricked by some sharp thing. He dropped back in his chair; his -head fell to meet his hands on the table in front. The hands were palms -downward, and his forehead rested on his knuckles.</p> - -<p>There was a moment's pause. Then Lepage darted from the room, crying: -"Dr. Natcheff! Dr. Natcheff!" Stenovics wiped his brow. Stafnitz raised -his head with a queer look at the King, and his mouth shaped for a -whistle. The Countess's sobs seemed as though frozen, her whole frame -was rigid. The King did not move.</p> - -<p>Natcheff came rushing in; Lepage, who followed closely, shut the door -after him. They both went to the King. There was silence while Natcheff -made his examination. In a couple of minutes he turned round to them.</p> - -<p>"Something has caused his Majesty strong agitation?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," answered Stenovics.</p> - -<p>"Yes!" said Natcheff. He cleared his throat and glanced doubtfully at -the Countess.</p> - -<p>"Well?" asked Stenovics.</p> - -<p>Natcheff threw out his hands, shrugging his shoulders ever so slightly:</p> - -<p>"I regret to say that the effect is the worst possible. His Majesty is -dead."</p> - -<p>Silence again—a silence strangely broken. Stafnitz sprang across the -room with a bound like a cat's, and caught the physician by the -shoulder.</p> - -<p>"No!" he said. "Not for twenty-four hours yet! His Majesty -dies—to-morrow!"</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>XV</h2> - -<h3>A JOB FOR CAPTAIN HERCULES</h3> - - -<p>"His Majesty dies—to-morrow!"</p> - -<p>Stafnitz's words seemed to freeze them all stiff where they stood; even -Countess Ellenburg's sobs, which had threatened to break forth again, -were arrested in their flow.</p> - -<p>"Markart, lock the door leading to the King's apartments. Natcheff and -Lepage, carry the King into his bedroom; lay him on the bed; stay there -till I call you. Countess, General, I invite your earnest attention."</p> - -<p>Stenovics's mind excelled in the waiting game, the slow, tortuous -approach, the inch-by-inch advance of leisurely diplomacy. For him this -crisis was at first too sudden. The swift and daring intellect of -Stafnitz naturally and inevitably took the lead; his strong will -fascinated his confederates.</p> - -<p>"Is this to be the beginning or the end?" he asked. "For us and our -friends—which? If we send a courier to Praslok to call King Sergius to -his capital—what then? For you, Countess, and your son, oblivion and -obscurity at Dobrava—for all the rest of your life, just that! For you, -General, and for me, and our friends—yes, you too, Markart!—our -<i>congé</i>, more or less civilly given. There won't be more insignificant -men in all Slavna on the day King Sergius enters. But there's no King -Sergius yet!"</p> - -<p>Stenovics was regaining the use of his brain; his eyes grew distant in -deep meditation. Countess Ellenburg looked eager and grim; her lips -could not swear a false oath—well, she was not asked to swear any oath -now. Markart could not think; he stood staring at Stafnitz.</p> - -<p>"In half an hour that courier must start for Praslok, if he starts at -all. Of all things, we mustn't hesitate."</p> - -<p>He had painted the result to them of the coming of King Sergius; it -meant the defeat of years of effort; it entailed the end of hopes, of -place, of power or influence. There was no future for those three in -Kravonia if King Sergius came. And Markart, of course, seemed no more -than one of Stenovics's train.</p> - -<p>"And if the courier doesn't start?" asked Stenovics. He took out and lit -a cigar, asking no leave of the Countess; probably he hardly knew that -he was smoking it.</p> - -<p>Stafnitz looked at his watch. "Five o'clock! We have twenty-four -hours—it would be risky to keep the secret longer. There's not much -time; we must be prompt. But we mustn't sacrifice anything to hurry. For -instance, it would look odd to present the King's orders to Baroness -Dobrava in the middle of the night! She'd smell a rat, if she's as -clever as they say. And so would the Prince, I think. I could have a -hundred men at Praslok by midnight, but I shouldn't propose to have them -there before eleven o'clock to-morrow. Well, they could be back here by -five in the afternoon! In the course of the day we'll occupy all the -important points of the city with troops we can trust. Then, in the -evening—as soon as we see how matters have gone at Praslok—we proclaim -King Alexis!"</p> - -<p>The Countess gave a little shiver—whether of fear or of eagerness it -was impossible to tell. Stenovics drummed his fingers on the table and -turned his cigar quickly round and round in his mouth. Markart had -recovered his clearness of mind and closely watched all the scene.</p> - -<p>The Countess rose suddenly—in strong agitation. "I—I can't bear it," -she said. "With him lying there! Let me go! Presently—presently you -shall tell me—anything."</p> - -<p>Stenovics laid down his cigar and went to her. "Wait in there"—he -pointed to Natcheff's room—"till you're quite composed. Then go to your -own room and wait till I come. Mind, Countess, no sign of agitation!" He -led her out. Stafnitz shrugged his shoulders.</p> - -<p>"She'll be all right," he said to Markart with a passing smile.</p> - -<p>"I think she was fond of the King," said Markart.</p> - -<p>Stenovics returned. "Now!" he said, seating himself again and resuming -his cigar. "You suggest that we still use that order—for the arrest of -Baroness Dobrava?"</p> - -<p>"It's signed 'Alexis,' and King Alexis lives till five to-morrow. -Moreover, if all goes well, King Alexis lives again for many years after -that."</p> - -<p>Stenovics nodded slightly. "The Baroness comes willingly—or you bring -her? At any rate, one way or the other, she's in our hands by this time -to-morrow?"</p> - -<p>"Exactly, General. I fail to perceive that this lamentable event"—he -waved his hand towards the King's empty chair—"alters the case as -regards the Baroness one jot."</p> - -<p>"Not the least—unless you consider that risking our heads on the throw -has any such effect," replied Stenovics; and for the first time he -smiled.</p> - -<p>"Once you wanted to play the big stake on a bad hand, General. Won't you -put it on the table now, when you've a good one?"</p> - -<p>"I'm thinking of a certain strong card in the other hand which you -haven't mentioned yet. Baroness Dobrava is to be in our power by this -time to-morrow. But what will the Prince of Slavna be doing? Still -drilling his men at Volseni, still waiting for his guns?"</p> - -<p>Stafnitz looked him full in the face. "No," he said. "The Prince had -better not still be drilling his men at Volseni, nor waiting for his -guns."</p> - -<p>"I think not, too," Stenovics agreed, twisting his cigar round again.</p> - -<p>"General, do you think the Prince will let Baroness Dobrava come to -Slavna without him?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know. He might have confidence enough in you; he wouldn't wish -to annoy or agitate the King. He might await his summons to an audience. -On the whole, I think he would submit—and rely on being able to induce -the King to alter his mind when they met. I'm not sure he wouldn't -advise her to go with you."</p> - -<p>"Well, yes, I confess that struck me, too, as rather likely—or at least -possible."</p> - -<p>"If it happened, it wouldn't be convenient," said Stenovics, with a -patient sigh. "Because he would come after her in a day or two."</p> - -<p>"But if I were detained by urgent business in Slavna—and we've agreed -that there's work to be done to-morrow in Slavna—another officer would -go to Praslok. The order, which I have here, mentions no name, although -the King designated me by word of mouth."</p> - -<p>"The order mentions no name?"</p> - -<p>"No; it directs the Baroness to accompany the bearer. True, at the foot -my name is written—'Entrusted to Colonel Stafnitz.' But with care and a -pair of scissors—!" He smiled at Markart again, as though taking him -into the joke.</p> - -<p>"Well, well, suppose another officer goes to Praslok—why shouldn't the -Prince trust the Baroness to the care of that officer as readily as to -you? You don't—how shall I put it?—monopolize his confidence, -Colonel."</p> - -<p>Stafnitz still wore his easy, confidential smile, as he answered with an -air of innocent slyness: "Suppose the officer were—Captain Mistitch? I -think it's just the job for Captain Hercules!"</p> - -<p>Even Stenovics started a little at that. He laid down his cigar and -looked at his friend the Colonel for some seconds. Then he looked at -Markart, smiling, seeming to ponder, to watch how Markart was taking it, -even to sympathize with Markart on having to consider a rather startling -proposal, on having, possibly, to do some little violence to his -feelings. Certainly Captain Markart gathered the impression that -Stenovics was doubtful how he would stand this somewhat staggering -suggestion. At last the General turned his eyes back to Stafnitz again.</p> - -<p>"That's as ingenious a bit of deviltry as I ever heard, Colonel," he -remarked quietly.</p> - -<p>"Captain Mistitch is restored to duty. He's of proper rank to perform -such a service, and to command an escort of a hundred men. After all, an -officer of my rank made a certain concession in accepting so small a -command."</p> - -<p>"Of course, if the Prince knew you as I do, my dear Colonel, he'd trust -her to a thousand Mistitches sooner than to you—"</p> - -<p>"But then—he doesn't!" the Colonel smiled.</p> - -<p>"He'd regard the sending of Mistitch as a deliberate insult."</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid he would."</p> - -<p>"He's hot-tempered. He'd probably say as much."</p> - -<p>"Yes. And Mistitch is hot-tempered. He'd probably resent the -observation. But you'll remember, General, that the escort is to be -large enough to make the officer commanding it secure against hinderance -by any act short of open and armed resistance to the King's command."</p> - -<p>"He'll never believe the King would send Mistitch!"</p> - -<p>"Will that make his peaceable obedience more likely?"</p> - -<p>"In a moment they'd be at each other's—" He stopped. "Markart, go and -see if they need anything in there." He pointed to the King's bedroom, -where Natcheff and Lepage were.</p> - -<p>Markart rose and obeyed. His head was swimming; he hardly yet understood -how very ingenious the ingenious deviltry was, how the one man was to be -sent whose directions the Prince could not submit to, whose presence was -an insult, to whom it was impossible to entrust Baroness Dobrava. He was -very glad to get out of the room. The last he saw was Stafnitz drawing -his chair close up to Stenovics and engaging in low-voiced, earnest -talk.</p> - -<p>The King's body lay on the bed, decently disposed, and covered with a -large fur rug. Lepage sat on a chair near by, Natcheff on another in the -window. Both looked up for a moment as Markart entered, but neither -spoke. Markart found a third chair and sat down. Nobody said anything; -the three were as silent and almost as still as the fourth on the bed. A -low murmur of voices came from the next room; the words were -indistinguishable. So passed full half an hour—a strange and terrible -half-hour it seemed to Markart.</p> - -<p>The door opened, and Stafnitz called Natcheff. The physician rose and -followed him. Another twenty minutes went by, still in silence; but once -Markart, looking for a moment at his mute companion, saw a tear rolling -slowly down Lepage's wrinkled cheek. Lepage saw him looking and broke -the silence:</p> - -<p>"I suppose I helped to kill him!"</p> - -<p>Markart shrugged his shoulders helplessly. Silence came again. Very long -it seemed; but, on looking at his watch, Markart found that it was not -yet half-past six.</p> - -<p>Again the door opened, and Stafnitz called to them both. They followed -him into the next room. Stenovics was sitting at the table with his -hands clasped on it in front of him. Stafnitz took up a position by his -side, standing as though on duty. Natcheff had disappeared. Stenovics -spoke in calm, deliberate tones; he seemed to have assumed command of -the operations again.</p> - -<p>"Captain Markart, I'm about to entrust to you an important and -responsible duty. For the next twenty-four hours, and afterwards until -relieved by my orders, you will be in charge of this man Lepage, and -will detain him in these apartments. His own room and this room will be -at the disposal of yourself and your prisoner, but you must not let the -prisoner out of your sight. Dr. Natcheff remains in his room. He will -have access to the King's room when he desires, but he will not leave -the suite of apartments. Beyond seeing to this, you will have no -responsibility for him. The door leading to the suite will be locked by -me, and will be opened only by me, or by my orders. I remain at the -Palace to-night; under me Captain Sterkoff will be the officer on guard. -He will himself supply you with any meals or other refreshments which -you may require. Ring this hand-bell on the table—no other bell, -mind—and he will be with you immediately. Do you understand your -orders?"</p> - -<p>Markart understood them very well; there was no need of Stafnitz's -mocking little smile to point the meaning. Markart was to be Lepage's -jailer, Sterkoff was to be his. Under the most civil and considerate -form he was made as close a prisoner as the man he guarded. Evidently, -Stenovics had come to the conclusion that he could not ask Markart to -put too great a strain on his conscience! The General, however, seemed -very kindly disposed towards him, and was, indeed, almost apologetic:</p> - -<p>"I've every hope that this responsible and, I fear, very irksome duty -may last only the few hours I mentioned. You put me under a personal -obligation by undertaking it, my dear Markart."</p> - -<p>In the absence of any choice, Markart saluted and answered: "I -understand my orders, General."</p> - -<p>Stafnitz interposed: "Captain Sterkoff is also aware of their purport."</p> - -<p>Stenovics looked vexed. "Yes, yes, but I'm sure Markart himself is quite -enough." It seems odd that, in the midst of such a transaction as that -in which he was now engaged, Stenovics should have found leisure—or -heart—to care about Markart's feeling. Yet so it was—a curiously -human touch creeping in! He shut Markart up only under the strongest -sense of necessity and with great reluctance. Probably Stafnitz had -insisted, in the private conversation which they had held together: -Markart had shown such evident signs of jibbing over the job proposed -for Captain Hercules!</p> - -<p>Lepage's heart was wrung, but his spirit was not broken. Stafnitz's -ironical smile called an answering one to his lips.</p> - -<p>"It would console my feelings if I also were put in charge of somebody, -General," he said. "Shall I, in my turn, keep an eye on Dr. Natcheff, or -report if the Captain here is remiss in the duty of keeping himself a -prisoner?"</p> - -<p>"I don't think you need trouble yourself, Monsieur Lepage. Captain -Sterkoff will relieve you of responsibility." To Lepage, too, Stenovics -was gentle, urbane, almost apologetic.</p> - -<p>"And how long am I to live, General?"</p> - -<p>"You're in the enviable position, Monsieur Lepage, of being able, -subject to our common mortality, to settle that for yourself. Come, -come, we'll discuss matters again to-morrow night or the following -morning. There are many men who prefer not to do things, but will accept -a thing when it's done. They're not necessarily unwise. I've done no -worse to you than give you the opportunity of being one of them. I think -you'll be prudent to take it. Anyhow, don't be angry; you must remember -that you've given us a good deal of trouble."</p> - -<p>"Between us we have killed the King."</p> - -<p>Stenovics waved his hands in a commiserating way. "Practical men mustn't -spend time in lamenting the past," he said.</p> - -<p>"Nor in mere conversation, however pleasant," Stafnitz broke in with a -laugh. "Captain Markart, march your prisoner to his quarters."</p> - -<p>His smile made the order a mockery. Markart felt it, and a hatred of the -man rose in him. But he could do nothing. He did not lead Lepage to his -quarters, but followed sheepishly in his prisoner's wake. They went -together into the little room where Lepage slept.</p> - -<p>"Close quarters too, Captain!" said the valet. "There is but one -chair—let me put it at your service." He himself sat down on the bed, -took out his tobacco, and began to roll himself a cigarette.</p> - -<p>Markart shut the door and then threw himself on the solitary chair, in a -heavy despondency of spirit and a confused conflict of feelings. He was -glad to be out of the work, yet he resented the manner in which he was -put aside. There were things going on in which it was well to have no -hand. Yet was there not a thing going on in which every man ought to -have a hand, on one side or the other? Not to do it, but to be ready to -accept it when done! He was enough of a soldier to feel that there lay -the worst, the meanest thing of all. Not to dare to do it, but to profit -by the doing! Stenovics had used the words to Lepage, his prisoner. By -making him in effect a prisoner, too, the General showed that he applied -them to the Captain also. Anything seemed better than that—ay, it would -be better to ride to Praslok behind Captain Hercules! In that adventure -a man might, at least, risk his life!</p> - -<p>"An odd world!" said the valet, puffing out his cigarette smoke. "Honest -men for prisoners, and murderers for jailers! Are you a prisoner or a -jailer, Captain Markart?"</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>XVI</h2> - -<h3>A FRENCHMAN AND A MATTRESS</h3> - - -<p>To say the truth, the word "murderers" seemed to Captain Markart more -than a little harsh. To use it was to apply to Kravonian affairs the -sterner standards of more steady-going, squeamish countries. A <i>coup -d'état</i> may well involve fighting; fighting naturally includes killing. -But are the promoters of the <i>coup</i> therefore murderers? Murderers with -a difference, anyhow, according to Kravonian ideas, which Captain -Markart was inclined to share. Moreover, a <i>coup d'état</i> is war; the -suppression of information is legitimate in war. If the Prince of Slavna -could not find out for himself what had happened in the Palace, were his -opponents bound to tell him? In fact, given that an attempt to change -the succession in your own interest was not a crime, but a legitimate -political enterprise, the rest followed.</p> - -<p>Except Mistitch! It was difficult to swallow Mistitch. There was a -mixture of ingenuity and brutality about that move which not even -Kravonian notions could easily accept. If Stafnitz had gone—nay, if he -himself had been sent—probably Markart's conscience would not have -rebelled. But to send Captain Hercules—that was cogging the dice! Yet -he was very angry that Stenovics should have divined his feelings and -shut him up. The General distrusted his courage as well as his -conscience—there lay the deepest hurt to Markart's vanity; it was all -the deeper because in his heart he had to own that Stenovics read him -right. Not only the brazen conscience was lacking, but also the iron -nerve.</p> - -<p>Getting no answer to his unpleasantly pointed question, Lepage relapsed -into silence. He stood by the window, looking out on the lawn which -sloped down to the Krath. Beyond the river the lights of Slavna glowed -in the darkening sky. Things would be happening in Slavna soon; Lepage -might well look at the city thoughtfully. As a fact, however, his mind -was occupied with one problem only—where was Zerkovitch and how could -he get at him? For Lepage did not waver—he had taken his line.</p> - -<p>Presently, however, his professional instincts seemed to reassert -themselves. He opened a cupboard in the room and brought out a clean -pair of sheets, which he proceeded to arrange on the bed. Busy at this -task, he paused to smile at Markart and say: "We must do the best we -can, Captain. After all, we have both camped, I expect! Here's the bed -for you—you'll do finely." He went back to the cupboard and lugged out -a mattress. "And this is for me—the shake-down on the floor which I use -when I sleep in the King's room—or did use, I should say. In my -judgment, Captain, it's comfortable to go to bed on the floor—at least, -one can't fall."</p> - -<p>It was eight o'clock. They heard the outer door of the suite of rooms -open and shut. A man was moving about in the next room; if they could -judge by the sound of his steps, he also paid Dr. Natcheff a brief -visit. They heard the clink of dishes and of glass.</p> - -<p>"Dinner!" said Lepage. "Ah, that's not unwelcome! Have I permission?" -Markart nodded, and he opened the door. On the table in the -sitting-room was a savory dish, bread, and two bottles of wine. Captain -Sterkoff was just surveying the board he had spread, with his head on -one side. There was nothing peculiar in that; his head was permanently -stuck on one side—a list to starboard—since the Virgin with the lamp -had injured the vertebræ of his neck. But the attitude, together with -his beaked nose, made him look like a particularly vicious parrot. -Markart saw him through the open door and could not get the resemblance -out of his mind.</p> - -<p>"Supper, gentlemen!" said Sterkoff with malevolent mirth. "The Doctor -can't join you. He's a little upset and keeps his bed. A good appetite! -I trust not to be obliged to disturb you again to-night."</p> - -<p>Markart had come in by now, but he was too surly and sore to speak. -Without a word he plumped down into a chair by the table and rested his -chin on his hands, staring at the cloth. It was left to Lepage to bow to -Sterkoff, and to express their joint thanks. This task he performed with -sufficient urbanity. Then he broke into a laugh.</p> - -<p>"They must think it odd to see you carrying dishes and bottles about the -Palace, Captain?"</p> - -<p>"Possibly," agreed Sterkoff. "But you see, my friend, what they think in -the Palace doesn't matter very much, so long as none of them can get -outside."</p> - -<p>"Oh, they none of them spend the evening out?"</p> - -<p>"Would they wish to, when the King has an attack of influenza, and Dr. -Natcheff is in attendance? It would be unfeeling, Lepage!"</p> - -<p>"Horribly, Captain! Probably even the sentries would object?"</p> - -<p>"It's possible they would," Sterkoff agreed again. He drew himself up -and saluted Markart, who did not move or pay any attention. -"Good-night, Lepage." He turned to the door; his head seemed more cocked -on one side than ever. Lepage bade him "Good-night" very respectfully; -but as the key turned in the door, he murmured longingly: "Ah, if I -could knock that ugly mug the rest of the way off his shoulders!"</p> - -<p>He treated Markart with no less respect than he had accorded to -Sterkoff; he would not hear of sitting down at table with an officer, -but insisted on handing the dish and uncorking the wine. Markart -accepted his attentions and began to eat languidly, with utter want of -appetite.</p> - -<p>"Some wine, Captain, some wine to cheer you up in this tiresome duty of -guarding me!" cried Lepage, picking up a bottle in one hand and a glass -in the other. "Oh, but that wry-necked fellow has brought you a dirty -glass! A moment, Captain! I'll wash it." And off he bounded—not even -waiting to set down the bottle—into the little room beyond.</p> - -<p>His brain was working hard now, marshalling his resources against his -difficulties. The difficulties were thirty feet to fall, Sterkoff's -sentries, the broad, swift current of the Krath—for even in normal -times there was always a sentry on the bridge—then the search for -Zerkovitch in Slavna. His resources were a mattress, a spare pair of -sheets, and a phial half full of the draught which Dr. Natcheff had -prescribed for the King.</p> - -<p>"It's very unfortunate, but I've not the least notion how much would -kill him," thought Lepage, as he poured the medicine—presumably a -strong sedative—into the wine-glass and filled up with wine from the -bottle Sterkoff had provided. He came back, holding the glass aloft with -a satisfied air. "Now it's fit for a gentleman to drink out of," said -he, as he set it down by Markart's hand. The Captain took it up and -swallowed it at a draught.</p> - -<p>"Ugh! Corked, I think! Beastly, anyhow!" said he.</p> - -<p>"They poison us as well as shut us up!" cried Lepage in burlesque anger. -"Try the other bottle, Captain!"</p> - -<p>The other bottle was better, said Markart, and he drank pretty well the -whole of it, Lepage standing by and watching him with keen interest. It -was distressing not to know how much of the King's draught would kill; -it had been necessary to err on the safe side—the side safe for Lepage, -that is.</p> - -<p>Captain Markart thought he would smoke his cigar in the little room, -lying on the bed; he was tired and sleepy—very sleepy, there was no -denying it. Lepage sat down and ate and drank; he found no fault with -the wine in the first bottle. Then he went and looked at Markart. The -Captain lay in his shirt, breeches, and boots. He was sound asleep and -breathing heavily; his cigar had fallen on the sheet, but apparently had -been out before it fell. Lepage regarded him with pursed lips, shrugged -his shoulders, and slipped the Captain's revolver into his pocket. The -Captain's recovery must be left to Fate.</p> - -<p>For the next hour he worked at his pair of sheets, slicing, twisting, -and splicing. In the end he found himself possessed of a fairly stout -rope twelve or thirteen feet long, but he could find nothing solid to -tie it to near the window, except the bed, and that was a yard away. He -would still have a fall of some twenty feet, and the ground was hard -with a spring frost. There would be need of the mattress. He put out -all the lights in the room and cautiously raised the window.</p> - -<p>The night was dark, he could not see the ground. He stood there ten -minutes. Then he heard a measured tramp; a dark figure, just -distinguishable, came round the corner of the Palace, walked past the -window to the end of the building, turned, walked back, and disappeared. -Hurriedly Lepage struck a match and took the time. Again he waited, -again the figure came. Again he struck a light and took the time. He -went through this process five times before he felt reasonably sure that -he could rely on having ten minutes to himself if he started the moment -Sterkoff's sentry had gone round the corner of the building.</p> - -<p>He pulled the mattress up onto the sill of the window and waited. There -was no sound now but of Markart's stertorous breathing. But presently -the measured tramp below came, passed, turned, and passed away. Lepage -gave a last tug at the fastenings of his rope, threw the end out of -window, took the mattress, and dropped it very carefully as straight -down as he could.</p> - -<p>The next moment, in spite of Sterkoff, somebody had left the Palace. Why -not? The runaway was aware that the King was not really suffering from -influenza—he could spend an evening in Slavna without reproach!</p> - -<p>"I wish I knew the safest way to fall!" thought Lepage, dangling at the -end of his rope. It swayed about terribly; he waited awhile for it to -steady itself—he feared to miss the mattress; but he could not wait -long, or that measured tramp and that dark figure would come. There -would be a sudden spurt of light, and a report—and what of Lepage -then? He gathered his legs up behind his knees, took a long breath—and -fell. As luck would have it, though he landed on the very edge of the -mattress, yet he did land on it, and tumbled forward on his face, -shaken, but with bones intact. There was a numb feeling above his -knees—nothing worse than that.</p> - -<p>He drew another long breath. Heavy bodies—and even mattresses—fall -quickly; he must have seven or eight minutes yet!</p> - -<p>But no! Heavy bodies, even mattresses, falling quickly, make a noise. -Lepage, too, had come down with a thud, squashing hidden air out of the -interstices of the mattress. The silence of night will give resonance to -gentler sounds than that, which was as though a giant had squeezed his -mighty sponge. Lepage, on his numb knees, listened. The steps came, not -measured now, but running. The dark figure came running round the -corner. What next? Next the challenge—then the spurt of light and the -report! What of Lepage then? Nothing—so far as Lepage and the rest of -humanity for certainty knew.</p> - -<p>Of that nothing—actual or possible—Lepage did not approve. He hitched -the mattress onto his back, bent himself nearly double, and, thus both -burdened and protected, made for the river. He must have looked like a -turtle scurrying to the sea, lest he should be turned over—and so left -for soup in due season.</p> - -<p>"Who goes there? Halt! Halt!"</p> - -<p>The turtle scurried on; it was no moment to stop and discuss matters.</p> - -<p>The spurt of light, the report! There was a hole in the mattress, but -well above Lepage's head. Indeed, if hit at all, he was not most likely -to be hit in the head; that vital portion of him was tucked away too -carefully. He presented a broader aim; but the mattress masked him -nobly.</p> - -<p>There was another shot—the northwest corner of the mattress this time. -But the mattress was on the river's edge. The next instant it was -floating on the current of the Krath, and Sterkoff's sentry was -indulging in some very pretty practice at it. He hit it every time, -until the swift current carried it round the bend and out of sight.</p> - -<p>The whole thing seemed strange and rather uncanny to the sentry. He -grounded his rifle and wiped his brow. It had looked like a carpet -taking a walk on its own account—and then a swim! Superior officers -might be accustomed to such strange phenomena. The sentry was not. He -set off at a round pace to the guard-room; he did not even stay to -notice the white rope which dangled in the air from a first-floor -window. Had he stopped, he would have heard Markart's invincible, -drug-laden snoring.</p> - -<p>Lepage had separated himself from his good friend and ally, the -mattress, and dived under water while the sentry blazed away. He -welcomed the current which bore him rapidly from the dangerous -neighborhood of the Palace. He came to the surface fifty feet down -stream and made for the other side. He could manage no more than a very -slanting course, but he was a strong swimmer, lightly dressed, with an -in-door man's light kid shoes. He felt no distress; rather a vivid, -almost gleeful, excitement came upon him as he battled with the strong, -cold stream. He began to plume himself on the mattress. Only a Frenchman -would have thought of that! A Slavna man would have ran away with -unguarded flanks. A Volsenian would have stayed to kill the sentry, and -be shot down by Sterkoff's guard. Only a Frenchman would have thought of -the mattress!</p> - -<p>He made land a quarter of a mile below the Palace. Ah, it was colder on -the road there than struggling with the cold water! But his spirit was -not quenched. He laughed again—a trifle hysterically, perhaps. In spite -of Sterkoff he was spending the evening out! He set his feet for -Slavna—briskly, too! Nay, he ran, for warmth's sake, and because of -what the sentry might even now be reporting to Sterkoff, and, through -him, to General Stenovics. The thought brought him to a stand-still -again; there might be a cordon of sentries across the road! After a -moment's hesitation he broke away from the main road, struck due south, -and so ran when he could, walked when he must, two miles.</p> - -<p>He was getting terribly tired now, but not cold—rather he was -feverishly hot inside his clammy garments. He turned along a country -cross-road which ran west, and passed through a village, leaving the -Hôtel de Paris on the main road far to his right. At last he reached the -main road south and turned up it, heading again for Slavna and for the -bridge which crossed the South River. He passed the bridge without being -challenged as the Cathedral clock struck midnight from St. Michael's -Square. The worst of his task was accomplished. If now he could find -Zerkovitch!</p> - -<p>But he was sore spent; running was out of the question now; he slunk -slowly and painfully along the south boulevard, clinging close to the -fences of the gardens, seeking the shelter of the trees which overhung -them.</p> - -<p>Draggled, hatless, dirty, infinitely weary, at last he reached -Zerkovitch's house at the corner where the boulevard and the Street of -the Fountain meet. He opened the garden gate and walked in. Spent as he -was, he breathed a "Bravo!" when he saw a light burning in the hall. He -staggered on, rang the bell, and fairly fell in a lump outside the door.</p> - -<p>He had done well; he, a man of peace, busy with clothes—he had done -well that night! But he was finished. When Zerkovitch opened the door, -he found little more than a heap of dank and dirty raiment; he hauled it -in and shut the door. He supported Lepage into the study, sat him down -by the fire, and got brandy for him to drink, pouring out full half a -tumbler. Lepage took it and drank the better part of it at a gulp.</p> - -<p>"The King died at five o'clock, Monsieur Zerkovitch," he said. He drank -the rest, let the tumbler fall with a crash in the fender, buried his -head on his breast, and fell into blank unconsciousness.</p> - -<p>He was out of the battle—as much as Markart, who slept the clock round -in spite of Stenovics's shakings and Dr. Natcheff's rubbings and -stimulants. But he had done his part. It was for Zerkovitch to do his -now.</p> - -<p>The King had died at five o'clock? It was certainly odd, that story, -because Zerkovitch had just returned from the offices of <i>The Patriot</i>; -and, immediately before he left, he had sent down to the foreman-printer -an official <i>communiqué</i>, to be inserted in his paper. It was to the -effect that Captain Mistitch and a guard of honor of fifty men would -leave Slavna next morning at seven o'clock for Dobrava, to be in -readiness to receive the King, who had made magnificent progress, and -was about to proceed to his country seat to complete his convalescence.</p> - -<p>Captain Mistitch and a guard of honor for Dobrava! Zerkovitch decided -that he would, if possible, ride ahead of them to Dobrava—that is, part -of the way. But first he called his old housekeeper and told her to put -Lepage to bed.</p> - -<p>"Don't worry about anything he says. He's raving," he added -thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>But poor Lepage raved no more that night. He did not speak again till -all was over. He had done his part.</p> - -<p>At five o'clock in the morning, Zerkovitch left Slavna, hidden under a -sack in a carrier's cart. He obtained a horse at a high price from a -farmer three miles along the road, and thence set out for the Castle at -his best speed. At six, Captain Mistitch, charged with Stafnitz's -careful instructions, set out with his guard of honor along the same -road—going to Dobrava to await the arrival of the King, who lay dead in -the Palace on the Krath!</p> - -<p>But since they started at six, and not at seven, as the official -<i>communiqué</i> led Zerkovitch to suppose, he had an hour less to spare -than he thought. Moreover, they went not fifty strong, but one hundred.</p> - -<p>These two changes—of the hour and the force—were made as soon as -Stenovics and Stafnitz learned of Lepage's escape. A large force and a -midnight march would have aroused suspicion in Slavna. The General did -what he could safely do to meet the danger which the escape -suggested—the danger that news of the King's death might be carried to -Praslok before Mistitch and his escort got there.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>XVII</h2> - -<h3>INGENIOUS COLONEL STAFNITZ</h3> - - -<p>After his happy holiday the Prince slept well, and rose in a cheerful -mood—still joyful of heart. He anticipated that the day would bring him -a summons from his father; he had little doubt that in the course of a -personal interview he could persuade the King to agree to a postponement -of his journey. Of Sophy he meant to say nothing—by a reservation -necessary and not inexcusable. It was impossible not to take into -account the knowledge he had acquired of the state of the King's health. -The result of that condition was that his provision must, in all -likelihood, be for months only, and not for years. The task for the -months was to avoid disturbing the King's mind, so long as this course -was consistent with the maintenance of his own favorable position. It -must be remembered that no man in the kingdom built more on this latter -object than the King himself; no man was less a partisan of Countess -Ellenburg and of young Alexis than the husband of the one and the father -of the other. The royal line—the line which boasted Bourbon blood—was -for the King the only line of Stefanovitch.</p> - -<p>Of the attack prepared against him the Prince knew nothing—nothing even -of the King's mind having been turned against the Baroness Dobrava, -whom so short a time ago he had delighted to honor; nothing, of course, -of Stafnitz's audacious <i>coup</i>, nor of the secret plan which Stenovics -and the Colonel had made, and of which Mistitch was to be the -instrument. Of all the salient features of the situation, then, he was -ignorant, and his ignorance was shared by those about his person. On the -other hand, Stenovics had his finger on every thread save one—the -Lepage-Zerkovitch thread, if it may so be called. That was important, -but its importance might be nullified if Mistitch made good speed.</p> - -<p>On the whole, the odds were much in favor of the coterie. If by any -means they could prevent the King from coming alive and free to Slavna, -the game would be theirs. If he did come alive and free, their game -would probably be up. His presence would mean a hard fight—or a -surrender; and Slavna had no stomach for such a fight—though it would -be piously thankful to be rid of Sergius, whether as Prince or King, -without the necessity of an ordeal so severe.</p> - -<p>As a preliminary to the summons he anticipated, and to a possible stay -of some days with his father at Slavna, the Prince had details to -discuss and routine business to transact with Lukovitch, the captain of -his battery in Volseni. He was early on horseback; Sophy and Max von -Hollbrandt (Max's stay at the Castle was to end the next day) rode with -him as far as the gates of the city; there they left him and turned down -into the plain, to enjoy a canter on the banks of Lake Talti. The three -were to meet again for the mid-day meal at Praslok. Marie Zerkovitch had -been ailing, and kept her bed in the morning. The Prince's mounted guard -rode behind him and his friends to Volseni, for the sake of exercising -their horses. In the Castle there were left only Marie Zerkovitch and -the servants. The Prince did not anticipate that any message would come -from the Palace before noon at the earliest.</p> - -<p>Morning avocations pursued their usual peaceful and simple course at the -Castle; old Vassip, his wife, and the maids did their cleaning; Peter -Vassip saw to his master's clothes, and then, to save his father labor, -began to sluice the wooden causeway; the stablemen groomed their -horses—they had been warned that the Prince might want another mount -later in the day. Marie Zerkovitch lay in her bed, sleeping soundly -after a restless night. There seemed no hint of trouble in the air. It -must be confessed that up to now it looked as though Praslok would be -caught napping.</p> - -<p>It was Peter Vassip, busy on the causeway, who first saw Zerkovitch. He -rested and leaned on his mop to watch the head which rose over the hill, -the body that followed, the farm-horse lumbering along in a slow, -clumsy, unwilling gallop. The man was using stick and spur—he was -riding mercilessly. Peter ran down to the road and waited. A groom came -across from the stables and joined him.</p> - -<p>"He's got no call to treat the horse like that, whoever he is," the -groom observed.</p> - -<p>"Not unless he's on urgent business," said Peter, twirling the water -from his mop.</p> - -<p>Zerkovitch was up to them; he leaped from his horse. "I must see the -Prince," he cried, "and immediately!"</p> - -<p>"The Prince is at Volseni, sir; he rode over to see Captain Lukovitch."</p> - -<p>"When will he be back?"</p> - -<p>"We don't expect him till twelve o'clock."</p> - -<p>Zerkovitch snatched out his watch.</p> - -<p>"There's nobody here but Madame Zerkovitch, sir; she's still in bed, not -very well, sir."</p> - -<p>"Twelve o'clock!" muttered Zerkovitch, paying no heed to the news about -his wife.</p> - -<p>"The Baroness and Baron von Hollbrandt are out riding—"</p> - -<p>"Can you give me a fresh horse? I must ride on and find the Prince at -Volseni."</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, sir." He signed to the groom. "And hurry up!" he added.</p> - -<p>"The guard's here, of course?"</p> - -<p>"No, sir. They've gone with the Prince."</p> - -<p>Zerkovitch twitched his head irritably and again looked at his watch. -"There must be time," he said. "They can't be here at soonest for an -hour and a half."</p> - -<p>Peter Vassip did not understand him, but neither did he venture to ask -questions.</p> - -<p>"Your horse 'll be here in a minute, sir. I think you'll find the Prince -in his office over the city gate. He went to do business, not to drill, -this morning."</p> - -<p>Zerkovitch looked at him for a moment, wondering, perhaps, whether he -would be wise to tell his news. But what was the use of telling Peter -Vassip? Or his own wife? What could she do? It was for the Prince to say -who should be told. The one thing was to find the Prince. There was -time—at the very least an hour and a half.</p> - -<p>The groom brought the fresh horse, and Zerkovitch began to mount.</p> - -<p>"A glass of wine, sir?" Peter Vassip suggested. He had marked -Zerkovitch's pale face and strained air; he had wondered to see his -clothes sprinkled with whitey-brown fibres—traces of the sack under -whose cover he had slid out of Slavna.</p> - -<p>Zerkovitch was in the saddle. "No," he answered. "But a bumper, Peter, -when I've found the Prince!" He set spurs to his horse and was off at a -gallop for Volseni; the road, though high on the hills, was nearly level -now.</p> - -<p>Peter scratched his head as he looked after him for a moment; then he -returned to his mop.</p> - -<p>He was just finishing his task, some twenty minutes later, when he heard -Sophy's laugh. She and Hollbrandt came from a lane which led up from the -lake and joined the main road a hundred yards along towards Volseni. -Peter ran and took their horses, and they mounted the causeway in -leisurely, pleasant chat. Sophy was in her sheepskin uniform; her cheeks -were pale, but the Star glowed. The world seemed good to her that -morning.</p> - -<p>"And that is, roughly, the story of my life," she said with a laugh, as -she reached the top of the causeway and leaned against the rude -balustrade which ran up the side of it.</p> - -<p>"A very interesting one—even very remarkable," he said, returning her -laugh. "But much more remains to be written, I don't doubt, Baroness."</p> - -<p>"Something, perhaps," said Sophy.</p> - -<p>"A good deal, I imagine!"</p> - -<p>She shot a mischievous glance at him: she knew that he was trying to -lure from her an avowal of her secret. "Who can tell? It all seems like -a dream sometimes, and dreams end in sudden awakenings, you know."</p> - -<p>"If it's a dream, you make an excellent dream-lady, Baroness."</p> - -<p>Peter Vassip put his mop and pail down by the stables, and came up and -stood beside them.</p> - -<p>"Did the mare carry you well to-day, sir?" he asked Max.</p> - -<p>"Admirably, Peter. We had a splendid ride—at least I thought so. I hope -the Baroness—?"</p> - -<p>Sophy threw out her arms as though to embrace the gracious world. "I -thought it beautiful; I think everything beautiful to-day. I think you -beautiful, Baron von Hollbrandt—and Peter is beautiful—and so is your -mother, and so is your father, Peter. And I half believe that, just this -morning—this one splendid morning—I'm beautiful myself. Yes, in spite -of this horrible mark on my cheek!"</p> - -<p>"I hear something," said Peter Vassip.</p> - -<p>"Just this morning—this one splendid morning—I agree with you," -laughed Max. "Not even the mark shall change my mind! Come, you love the -mark—the Red Star—don't you?"</p> - -<p>"Well, yes," said Sophy, with a little, confidential nod and smile.</p> - -<p>"I hear something," said Peter Vassip, with his hand to his ear.</p> - -<p>Sophy turned to him, smiling. "What do you hear, Peter?"</p> - -<p>He gave a sudden start of recollection. "Ah, has that anything to do -with Monsieur Zerkovitch?"</p> - -<p>"Monsieur Zerkovitch?" broke from them both.</p> - -<p>"He's been here; he's ridden at a gallop on to Volseni—to find the -Prince." He added briefly all there was to add—his hand at his ear all -the time.</p> - -<p>"Hum! That looks like news," said Max. "What can it be?"</p> - -<p>"He didn't stop even to tell Marie! It must be urgent."</p> - -<p>They looked in one another's faces. "Can there be—be anything wrong in -Slavna?"</p> - -<p>"You mean—the troops?"</p> - -<p>"I had thought of that."</p> - -<p>"I can think of nothing but that. If it were anything from the Palace, -it would come by a royal courier sooner than by any other hand."</p> - -<p>"I can hear plainly now," said Peter Vassip. "Listen!"</p> - -<p>They obeyed him, but their ears were not so well trained. A dull, -indefinite sound was all they could distinguish.</p> - -<p>"Horses—a number of them. Mounted men it must be—the hoofs are so -regular. Cavalry!"</p> - -<p>"It's the Prince coming back from Volseni!" cried Sophy.</p> - -<p>"No, it's from the other direction; and, besides, there are too many for -that."</p> - -<p>Mounted men on the Slavna road—and too many to be the Prince's guard!</p> - -<p>"What can it be?" asked Sophy in a low voice.</p> - -<p>"I don't know. Zerkovitch's arrival must be connected with the same -thing, I think."</p> - -<p>"There! There are their shakoes coming over the rise of the hill!" cried -Peter Vassip.</p> - -<p>The next moment showed the company. They rode in fours, with sergeants -on the flanks. The officer in command was behind—the three on the -causeway could not see him yet. They were Hussars of the King's Guard, -the best regiment in the army. The Prince of Slavna had made them good -soldiers—they hated him for it. But Stafnitz was their colonel. On they -came; in their blue tunics and silver braid they made a brave show in -the sunshine.</p> - -<p>The three watched now without word or motion. The sudden sight held them -spellbound. Not one of them thought of sending to warn the Prince. If -they had, the thought would have been useless, unless it had chimed in -with Mistitch's will. Twenty men could have been on them before there -was time to saddle a horse. If the expedition were a hostile one, the -Castle was caught napping in very truth!</p> - -<p>Sophy stood forward a pace in front of her companions; her hand rested -on the little revolver which Monseigneur had given her.</p> - -<p>On came the company; the foremost file reached within twenty yards of -the causeway. There they halted. Half of them dismounted, each man as he -did so intrusting his horse to his next fellow. Half of the fifty thus -left mounted repeated this operation, leaving the remaining twenty-five -in charge of all the horses. The seventy-five took position, four deep, -on the road. They separated, lining either side.</p> - -<p>The figure of their commander now appeared. He rode to the foot of the -causeway, then dismounted, and gave his horse to the sergeant who -attended him. His men followed and drew up in the road, blocking the -approach to the Castle. Big Mistitch began to ascend the causeway, a -broad smile on his face. It was a great moment for Captain Hercules—the -day of revenge for which he had waited in forced patience and discreet -unobtrusiveness. It was a critical day, also, in view of the -instructions he had. To do him justice, he was not afraid.</p> - -<p>Sophy saw and knew. This must have been the news that Zerkovitch -carried, that he had galloped on to tell to the Prince at Volseni. Some -event—some unknown and untoward turn of fortune—had loosed Mistitch on -them! That was all she had time to realize before Mistitch saluted her -and spoke.</p> - -<p>"I have the honor of addressing the Baroness Dobrava?"</p> - -<p>"You know me well, I think, Captain Mistitch, and I know you."</p> - -<p>"Our journey together will be all the pleasanter for that."</p> - -<p>"Your business with me, please?"</p> - -<p>"I have it in command from his Majesty to escort you to Slavna—to the -Palace and into his presence. The King himself will then acquaint you -with his wishes."</p> - -<p>"You're a strange messenger to send."</p> - -<p>"That's a point to put to my superior officer, Colonel Stafnitz, who -sent me, Baroness."</p> - -<p>Sophy pointed at his men. "You ride strongly supported!"</p> - -<p>"Again the Colonel's orders, Baroness. I confess the precautions seemed -to me excessive. I had no doubt you would willingly obey his Majesty's -commands. Here, by-the-way, is the written order." He produced the order -the King had signed before his death.</p> - -<p>Sophy had been thinking. Neither her courage nor her cunning forsook -her. She waved the document away. "I can take your word, Captain? You're -making no mistake to-day?—I really am Baroness Dobrava—not somebody -else with whom you have a feud?" She laughed at him gayly and went on: -"Well, I'm ready. I'm dressed for a ride—and I'll ride with you -immediately. In two minutes we'll be off." She saw a groom in the road -staring at the troopers, and called to him to bring her a horse.</p> - -<p>This prompt obedience by no means suited Mistitch's book. It forced him -either to show his hand or to ride off with Sophy, leaving the Prince to -his devices—and, in a little while, to his revenge.</p> - -<p>"I mustn't hurry you. You have some preparations—?"</p> - -<p>"None," said Sophy. Her horse was led out into the road.</p> - -<p>"You'll at least desire to acquaint his Royal Highness—?"</p> - -<p>"Not at all necessary. Baron von Hollbrandt can do that later on."</p> - -<p>Mistitch looked puzzled. Sophy smiled; her intuition had been right. The -attack on her was a feint, her arrest a blind; the Prince was the real -object of the move. She stepped down towards Mistitch.</p> - -<p>"I see my horse is ready. We can start at once, Captain," she said.</p> - -<p>"I'm instructed to express to the Prince regret that it should be -necessary—"</p> - -<p>"The regret will be conveyed to him. Come, Captain!"</p> - -<p>But Mistitch barred her way.</p> - -<p>"His Royal Highness is in the Castle?" he asked. His voice grew angry -now; he feared the great stroke had failed; he saw that Sophy played -with him. How would he and his escort look riding back to Slavna with -nothing to show for their journey save the capture of one unresisting -woman—a woman whom they dared not harm while the Prince remained free, -and might become all-powerful?</p> - -<p>"If he had been, you'd have known it by now, I think," smiled Sophy. -"No, the Prince isn't at the Castle."</p> - -<p>"I'll see that for myself!" Mistitch cried, taking a step forward.</p> - -<p>With a low laugh Sophy drew aside, passed him, and ran down the -causeway. In an instant she darted between the ranks of Mistitch's men -and reached her horse. The groom mounted her. She looked up to Mistitch -and called to him gayly:</p> - -<p>"Now for Slavna, Captain! And hurry, or you'll be left behind!"</p> - -<p>Her wit was too quick for him. Max von Hollbrandt burst out laughing; -Peter Vassip grinned.</p> - -<p>"What are you waiting for, Captain?" asked Max. "Your prisoner's only -too anxious to go with you, you see!"</p> - -<p>"I'll search the Castle first!" he cried in a rage which made him forget -his part.</p> - -<p>Peter Vassip sprang forward and barred the way. Mistitch raised his -mighty arm. But Sophy's voice rang out gayly:</p> - -<p>"Nonsense, Peter! There's nothing to conceal. Let the Captain pass!"</p> - -<p>Her words stopped Mistitch—he feared a trap. Max saw it and mocked him. -"Don't be afraid, Captain—take fifty men in with you. The garrison -consists of a lady in bed, an old man, and five female servants."</p> - -<p>Sophy heard and laughed. Even the troopers began to laugh now. Mistitch -stood on the top of the causeway, irresolute, baffled, furious.</p> - -<p>But behind his stupidity lay the cunning astuteness of Stafnitz, the -ingenious bit of devilry. Mistitch's name availed where his brain could -not. For the moment the Prince made little of the Crown which had become -his; when he heard Zerkovitch's news, his overpowering thought was that -the woman he loved might be exposed to the power and the insults of -Mistitch. Sophy was playing a skilful game for him, but he did not know -it.</p> - -<p>"I hear something," said Peter Vassip again, whispering to Max von -Hollbrandt.</p> - -<p>Yes, there was the galloping of horses on the Volseni road!</p> - -<p>Colonel Stafnitz had not miscalculated.</p> - -<p>Now Mistitch heard the sound. His heavy face brightened. He ran down the -causeway, loudly ordering his men to mount. He was no longer at a loss. -He had his cue now—the cue Stafnitz had given him.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>XVIII</h2> - -<h3>TO THE FAITHFUL CITY</h3> - - -<p>The King had died yesterday—yet none had told his heir! Mistitch had -set out for Dobrava with fifty men to wait for the King—who was dead! -The dead King would never go to Dobrava—and no messenger came to the -new King at Praslok!</p> - -<p>Zerkovitch's news was enough to raise the anger of a King—and Sergius -blazed with it. But more potent still was his wrathful fear as he -thought of Sophy at Praslok, in the power of Captain Hercules.</p> - -<p>He had his guard of twenty mounted men with him. With these he at once -set forth, bidding Lukovitch collect all the men he could and follow him -as speedily as possible. If Mistitch had really gone to Dobrava, then he -would find him there and have the truth out of him. But if, as the -Prince hardly doubted, he was making for Praslok, there was time to -intercept him, time to carry off Sophy and the other inmates of the -Castle, send them back to safety within the walls of Volseni, and -himself ride on to meet Mistitch with his mind at ease.</p> - -<p>Relying on Zerkovitch's information, he assumed that the troopers had -not started from Slavna till seven in the morning. They had started at -six. He reckoned also on Zerkovitch's statement, that they were but -fifty strong. They were a hundred. Yet, had he known the truth, he could -not have used more haste—and he would not have waited for another man! -He stayed to tell no man in Volseni the news about his father—except -Lukovitch. But as his twenty rode out of the gate behind him, he turned -his head to Zerkovitch, who trotted beside him—for Zerkovitch neither -could nor would rest till the game was played—and said: "Tell them that -the King is dead, and that I reign." Zerkovitch whispered the news to -the man next him, and it ran along the line. A low, stern cheer, hardly -more than a murmured assurance of loyalty and service, came from the -lips of the men in sheepskins.</p> - -<p>Mistitch saw them coming, and turned to his troop; he had time for a -little speech—and Stafnitz had taught him what to say: "Men, you are -servants of the King, and of the King only. Not even the Prince of -Slavna can command you against the King's orders. The King's orders are -that we take Baroness Dobrava to Slavna, no matter who resists. If need -be, these orders stand even against the Prince."</p> - -<p>Stafnitz's soldiers—the men he petted, the men who had felt the -Prince's stern hand—were only too glad to hear it. To strike for the -King and yet against the hated Prince—it was a luxury, a happy and -unlooked-for harmonizing of their duty and their pleasure. Their -answering cheer was loud and fierce.</p> - -<p>It struck harsh on the ears of the advancing Prince. His face grew hard -and strained as he heard the shouts and saw the solid body of men across -his path, barring access to his own castle. And within a yard or two of -their ranks, by the side of the road, sat the figure which he knew so -well and so well loved.</p> - -<p>Now Mistitch played his card—that move in the game which Sophy's cool -submission to his demand had for the moment thwarted, but to which the -Prince's headlong anger and fear now gave an opening—the opening which -Stafnitz had from the first foreseen. It would need little to make the -fiery Prince forget prudence when he was face to face with Mistitch. It -was not a safe game for Mistitch personally—both Stafnitz and he knew -that. But Captain Hercules was confident. He would not be caught twice -by the Volseni trick of sword! The satisfaction of his revenge, and the -unstinted rewards that his Colonel offered, made it worth his while to -accept the risk, and rendered it grateful to his heart.</p> - -<p>Sophy sat smiling. She would fain have averted the encounter, and had -shaped her manœuvres to that end. It was not to be so, it seemed. -Now, she did not doubt Monseigneur's success. But she wished that -Zerkovitch had not reached Volseni so quickly, that the Prince had -stayed behind his walls till his plans were ready; and that she was -going a prisoner to Slavna to see the King, trusting to her face, her -tongue, her courage, and the star of her own fortune. Never had her -buoyant self-confidence run higher.</p> - -<p>On the top of the causeway, Max von Hollbrandt looked to his revolver, -Peter Vassip loosened his knife in its leather sheath. A window above -the gate opened, and Marie Zerkovitch's frightened face looked out. The -women-servants jostled old Vassip in the doorway. The grooms stood -outside the stables. No one moved—only the Prince's little troop came -on. When they were fifty yards away, Mistitch cried to his men: "Draw -swords!" and himself pricked his horse with his spur and rode up to -where Sophy was.</p> - -<p>Mistitch drew his horse up parallel to Sophy's, head to tail, on her -right side, between her and the approaching force. With the instinct of -hatred she shrank away from him; it had all been foreseen and rehearsed -in Stafnitz's mind! Mistitch cried loudly: "In the King's name, Baroness -Dobrava!" He leaned from the saddle and caught her right wrist in his -huge hand: he had the justification that, at his first attempt to touch -her, Sophy's hand had flown to her little revolver and held it now. -Mistitch crushed her wrist—the revolver fell to the ground. Sophy gave -one cry of pain. Mistitch dropped her wrist and reached his arm about -her waist. He was pulling her from her horse, while again he cried out: -"In the King's name! On guard!"</p> - -<p>It was a high jump from the top of the causeway, but two men took it -side by side—Max von Hollbrandt, revolver in hand, Peter Vassip with -knife unsheathed.</p> - -<p>As they leaped, another shout rang out: "Long live King Sergius!"</p> - -<p>The Prince rode his fastest, but faster still rode Zerkovitch. He -outpaced the Prince and rode right in among Mistitch's men, crying -loudly again and again, unceasingly: "The King is dead! The King is -dead! The King is dead!"</p> - -<p>Then came the Prince; he rode full at Mistitch. His men followed him, -and dashed with a shock against the troopers of Mistitch's escort. As -they rode, they cried: "Long live King Sergius!" They had unhorsed a -dozen men and wounded four or five before they realized that they met -with no resistance. Mistitch's men were paralyzed. The King was -dead—they were to fight against the King! The magic of the name worked. -They dropped the points of their swords. The Volsenians, hesitating to -strike men who did not defend themselves, puzzled and in doubt, turned -to their Bailiff—their King—for his orders.</p> - -<p>As the Prince came up, Mistitch hurled Sophy from him; she fell from her -horse, but fell on the soft, grassy road-side, and sprang up unhurt save -for a cruel pain in her crushed wrist. She turned her eyes whither all -eyes were turned now. The general battle was stayed, but not the single -combat. For a moment none moved save the two who were now to engage.</p> - -<p>The fight of the Street of the Fountain fell to be fought again. For -when Peter Vassip was darting forward, knife in hand, with a spring like -a mountain goat's, his master's voice called: "Mine, Peter, mine!" It -was the old cry when they shot wild-boar in the woods about Dobrava, and -it brought Peter Vassip to a stand. Max von Hollbrandt, too, lowered his -pointed revolver. Who should stand between his quarry and the King, -between Sophy's lover and the man who had so outraged her? Big Mistitch -was the King's game, and the King's only, that day.</p> - -<p>Mistitch's chance was gone, and he must have known it. Where was the -sergeant who had undertaken to cover him? He had turned tail. Where was -the enveloping rush of his men, which should have engulfed and paralyzed -the enemy? Paralysis was on his men themselves; they believed -Zerkovitch, and lacked appetite for the killing of a King. Where was his -triumphant return to Slavna, his laurels, his rewards, his wonderful -swaggerings at the Golden Lion? They were all gone. Even though he -killed the King, there were two dozen men vowed to have his life. They -must have it—but at what price? His savage valor set the figure high.</p> - -<p>It was the old fight again, but not in the old manner. There was no -delicate sword-play, no fluctuating fortunes in the fray. It was all -stem and short. The King had not drawn his sword, Mistitch did not seek -to draw his. Two shots rang out sharply—that was all. The King reeled -in his saddle, but maintained his seat. Big Mistitch threw his hands -above his head with a loud cry and fell with a mighty crash on the road, -shot through the head. Peter Vassip ran to the King and helped him to -dismount, while Max von Hollbrandt held his horse. Sophy hurried to -where they laid him by the road-side.</p> - -<p>"Disarm these fellows!" cried Zerkovitch.</p> - -<p>But Mistitch's escort were in no mood to wait for this operation; nor to -stay and suffer the anger of the King. With their leader's fall the last -of heart was out of them. Wrenching themselves free from such of the -Volsenians as sought to arrest their flight, they turned their horses' -heads and fled, one and all, for Slavna. The King's men attempted no -pursuit; they clustered round the spot where he lay.</p> - -<p>"I'm hit," he said to Sophy, "but not badly, I think."</p> - -<p>From the Castle door, down the causeway, came Marie Zerkovitch, weeping -passionately, wringing her hands. The soldiers parted their close ranks -to let her through. She came to the road-side where Sophy supported -Monseigneur's head upon her knees. Sophy looked up and saw her. Marie -did not speak. She stood there sobbing and wringing her hands over Sophy -and the wounded King.</p> - -<p>That afternoon—an hour after the first of the straggling rout of -Mistitch's escort came in—King Alexis died suddenly! So ran the -official notice, endorsed by Dr. Natcheff's high authority. The coterie -were in up to their necks; they could not go back now; they must go -through with it. Countess Ellenburg took to her knees; Stenovics and -Stafnitz held long conversations. Every point of tactical importance in -the city was occupied by troops. Slavna was silent, expectant, curious.</p> - -<p>Markart awoke at five o'clock, heavy of head, dry in the mouth, sick and -ill. He found himself no longer in the King's suite, but in one of the -apartments which Stafnitz had occupied. He was all alone; the door stood -open. He understood that he was no more a prisoner; he knew that the -King was dead!</p> - -<p>But who else was dead—and who alive—and who King in Slavna?</p> - -<p>He forced himself to rise, and hurried through the corridors of the -Palace. They were deserted; there was nobody to hinder him, nobody of -whom to ask a question. He saw a decanter of brandy standing near the -door of one room, and drank freely of it. Then he made his way into the -garden. He saw men streaming over the bridge towards Slavna, and -hastened after them as quickly as he could. His head was still in a -maze; he remembered nothing after drinking the glass of wine which -Lepage the valet had given him. But he was possessed by a strong -excitement, and he followed obstinately in the wake of the throng which -set from the Palace and the suburbs into Slavna.</p> - -<p>The streets were quiet; soldiers occupied the corners of the ways; they -looked curiously at Markart's pale face and disordered uniform. A dull -roar came from the direction of St. Michael's Square, and thither -Markart aimed his course. He found all one side of the Square full of a -dense crowd, swaying, jostling, talking. On the other side troops were -massed; in an open space in front of the troops, facing the crowd, was -Colonel Stafnitz, and by his side a little boy on a white pony.</p> - -<p>Markart was too far off to hear what Stafnitz said when he began to -speak—nay, the cheers of the troops behind the Colonel came so sharp on -his words as almost to drown them; and after a moment's hesitation (as -it seemed to Markart), the crowd of people on the other side of the -Square echoed back the acclamations of the soldiers.</p> - -<p>All Countess Ellenburg's ambitions were at stake; for Stenovics and -Stafnitz it was a matter of life itself now, so daringly had they raised -their hands against King Sergius. Countess Ellenburg had indeed -prayed—and now prayed all alone in a deserted Palace—but not one of -the three had hesitated. At the head of a united army, in the name of a -united people, Stafnitz had demanded the proclamation of young Alexis as -King. For an hour Stenovics had made a show of demurring; then he bowed -to the national will. That night young Alexis enjoyed more honor than he -had asked of Lepage the valet—he was called not Prince, but Majesty. He -was King in Slavna, and the first work to which they set his childish -hand was the proclamation of a state of siege.</p> - -<p>Slavna chose him willingly—or because it must at the bidding of the -soldiers. But Volseni was of another mind. They would not have the -German woman's son to reign over them. Into that faithful city the -wounded King threw himself with all his friends.</p> - -<p>The body of Mistitch lay all day and all night by the wayside. Next -morning at dawn the King's grooms came back from Volseni and buried it -under a clump of trees by the side of the lane running down to Lake -Talti. Their curses were the only words spoken over the grave; and they -flattened the earth level with the ground again, that none might know -where the man rested who had lifted his hand against their master.</p> - -<p>The King was carried to Volseni sore stricken; they did not know whether -he would live or die. He had a dangerous wound in the lungs, and, to -make matters worse, the surgical skill available in Volseni was very -primitive.</p> - -<p>But in that regard fortune brought aid, and brought also to Sophy a -strange conjuncture of the new life with the old. The landlord of the -inn sent word to Lukovitch that two foreign gentlemen had arrived at his -house that afternoon, and that the passport of one of them described him -as a surgeon; the landlord had told him how things stood, and he was -anxious to render help.</p> - -<p>It was Basil Williamson. Dunstanbury and he, accompanied by Henry Brown, -Dunstanbury's servant, had reached Volseni that day on their return from -a tour in the Crimea and round the shores of the Sea of Azof.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>XIX</h2> - -<h3>THE SILVER RING</h3> - - -<p>It was late at night, and quiet reigned in Volseni—the quiet not of -security, but of ordered vigilance. A light burned in every house; men -lined the time-worn walls and camped in the market-place; there were -scouts out on the road as far as Praslok. No news came from outside, and -no news yet from the room in the guard-house where the wounded King lay. -The street on which the room looked was empty, save for one man, who -walked patiently up and down, smoking a cigar. Dunstanbury waited for -Basil Williamson, who was in attendance on the King and was to pronounce -to Volseni whether he could live or must die.</p> - -<p>Dunstanbury had been glad that Basil could be of use, but for the rest -he had listened to the story which Zerkovitch told him with an amused, -rather contemptuous indifference—with an Englishman's wonder why other -countries cannot manage their affairs better, and something of a -traveller's pleasure at coming in for a bit of such vivid, almost -blazing "local color" in the course of his journey. But whether Alexis -reigned, or Sergius, mattered nothing to him, and, in his opinion, very -little to anybody else.</p> - -<p>Nor had he given much thought to the lady whose name figured so -prominently in Zerkovitch's narrative, the Baroness Dobrava. Such a -personage seemed no less appropriate to the surroundings than the rest -of the story—no less appropriate and certainly not a whit more -important. Of course he hoped Basil would make a good report, but his -mind was not disturbed; his chief hope was that the claims of humanity -would not prolong his stay in Volseni beyond a few days. It was a -picturesque little place, but not one for a long visit; and in any case -he was homeward bound now, rather eager for the pleasures of the London -season after his winter journey—the third he had made in the interests -of a book on Russia which he had in contemplation, a book designed to -recommend him as an expert student of foreign affairs. He could hardly -consider that these goings-on in Kravonia came within the purview of a -serious study of his subject. But it was a pleasant, moonlit night, the -old street was very quaint, the crisis he had happened on bizarre and -amusing. He smoked his cigar and waited for Basil without impatience.</p> - -<p>He had strolled a hundred yards away and just turned to loiter back, -when he saw a figure come out of the guard-house, pause for a moment, -and then advance slowly towards him. The sheepskin cap and tunic made -him think at first that the stranger was one of the Volsenian levy; the -next moment he saw the skirt. At once he guessed that he was in the -presence of Baroness Dobrava, the heroine of the piece, as he had called -her in his own mind and with a smile.</p> - -<p>Evidently she meant to speak to him; he threw away his cigar and walked -to meet her. As they drew near to each other he raised his hat. Sophy -bowed gravely. Thus they met for the first time since Sophy washed her -lettuces in the scullery at Morpingham, and, at the young lord's -bidding, fetched Lorenzo the Magnificent a bone. This meeting was, -however remotely, the result of that. Dunstanbury had started her career -on the road which had led her to where she was.</p> - -<p>"I've seen Mr. Williamson," she said, "and he knows me now. But you -don't yet, do you, Lord Dunstanbury? And anyhow, perhaps, you wouldn't -remember."</p> - -<p>She had been a slip of a girl when he saw her last, in a print frock, -washing lettuces. With a smile and a deprecatory gesture he confessed -his ignorance and his surprise. "Really, I'm afraid I—I don't. I've -been such a traveller, and meet so many—" An acquaintance with Baroness -Dobrava was among the last with which he would have credited himself—or -perhaps (to speak his true thoughts), charged his reputation.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Williamson knew me almost directly—the moment I reminded him of my -mark." She touched her cheek. Dunstanbury looked more closely at her, a -vague recollection stirring in him. Sophy's face was very sad, yet she -smiled just a little as she added: "I remember you so well—and your dog -Lorenzo. I'm Sophy Grouch of Morpingham, and I became Lady Meg's -companion. Now do you remember?"</p> - -<p>He stepped quickly up to her, peered into her eyes, and saw the Red -Star.</p> - -<p>"Good Heavens!" he said, smiling at her in an almost helpless way. -"Well, that is curious!" he added. "Sophy Grouch! And you are—Baroness -Dobrava?"</p> - -<p>"There's nothing much in that," said Sophy. "I'll tell you all about -that soon, if we have time. To-night I can think of nothing but -Monseigneur. Mr. Williamson has extracted the bullet, but I'm afraid -he's very bad. You won't take Mr. Williamson away until—until it's -settled—one way or the other, will you?"</p> - -<p>"Neither Basil nor I will leave so long as we can be of the least -service to you," he told her.</p> - -<p>With a sudden impulse she put her hands in his. "It's strangely good to -find you here to-night—so strange and so good! It gives me strength, -and I want strength. Oh, my friends are brave men, but you—well, -there's something in home and the same blood, I suppose."</p> - -<p>Dunstanbury thought that there was certainly something in having two -Englishmen about, instead of Kravonians only, but such a blunt sentiment -might not be acceptable. He pressed her hands as he released them.</p> - -<p>"I rejoice at the chance that brings us here. You can have every -confidence in Basil. He's a first-rate man. But tell me about yourself. -We have time now, haven't we?"</p> - -<p>"Really, I suppose we have! Monseigneur has been put to sleep. But I -couldn't sleep. Come, we'll go up on the wall."</p> - -<p>They mounted on to the city wall, just by the gate, and leaned against -the mouldering parapets. Below lay Lake Talti in the moonlight, and -beyond it the masses of the mountains. Yet while Sophy talked, -Dunstanbury's eyes seldom left her face; nay, once or twice he caught -himself not listening, but only looking, tracing how she had grown from -Sophy Grouch in her scullery to this. He had never forgotten the strange -girl: once or twice he and Basil had talked of her; he had resented Lady -Meg's brusque and unceremonious dismissal of her protégée; in his -memory, half-overgrown, had lain the mark on Sophy's cheek. Now here she -was, in Kravonia, of all places—Baroness Dobrava, of all people! And -what else, who knew? The train of events which had brought this about -was strange; yet his greater wonder was for the woman herself.</p> - -<p>"And here we are!" she ended with a woful smile. "If Monseigneur lives, -I think we shall win. For the moment we can do no more than hold -Volseni; I think we can do that. But presently, when he's better and can -lead us, we shall attack. Down in Slavna they won't like being ruled by -the Countess and Stenovics as much as they expect. Little by little we -shall grow stronger." Her voice rose a little. "At last Monseigneur will -sit firm on his throne," she said. "Then we'll see what we can do for -Kravonia. It's a fine country, and rich, Lord Dunstanbury, and outside -Slavna the people are good material. We shall be able to make it very -different—if Monseigneur lives."</p> - -<p>"And if not?" he asked, in a low voice.</p> - -<p>"What is it to me except for Monseigneur? If he dies—!" Her hands -thrown wide in a gesture of despair ended her sentence.</p> - -<p>If she lived and worked for Kravonia, it was for Monseigneur's sake. -Without him, what was Kravonia to her? Such was her mood; plainly she -took no pains to conceal it from Dunstanbury. The next moment she turned -to him with a smile. "You think I talk strangely, saying: 'We'll do this -and that'? Yes, you must, and it's suddenly become strange to me to say -it—to say it to you, because you've brought back the old things to my -mind, and all this is so out of keeping with the old things—with Sophy -Grouch, and Julia Robins, and Morpingham! But until you came it didn't -seem strange. Everything that has happened since I came to this country -seemed to lead up to it—to bring it about naturally and irresistibly. I -forgot till just now how funny it must sound to you—and how—how bad, I -suppose. Well, you must accustom yourself to Kravonia. It's not Essex, -you know."</p> - -<p>"If the King lives?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"I shall be with Monseigneur if he lives," she answered.</p> - -<p>Yes, it was very strange; yet already, even now—when he had known her -again for half an hour, had seen her and talked to her—gradually and -insidiously it began to seem less strange, less fantastic, more natural. -Dunstanbury had to give himself a mental shake to get back to Essex and -to Sophy Grouch. Volseni set old and gray amid the hills, the King whose -breath struggled with his blood for life, the beautiful woman who would -be with the King if and so long as he lived—these were the present -realities he saw in vivid immediate vision; they made the shadows of the -past seem not indeed dim—they kept all their distinctness of outline in -memory—but in their turn fantastic, and in no relation to the actual. -Was that the air of Kravonia working on him? Or was it a woman's voice, -the pallid pride of a woman's face?</p> - -<p>"In Slavna they call me a witch," she said, "and tell terrible tales -about this little mark—my Red Star. But here in Volseni they like -me—yes, and I can win over Slavna, too, if I get the opportunity. No, I -sha'n't be a weakness to Monseigneur if he lives."</p> - -<p>"You'll be—?"</p> - -<p>"His wife?" she interrupted. "Yes." She smiled again—nay, almost -laughed. "That seems worst of all—worse than anything else?"</p> - -<p>Dunstanbury allowed himself to smile too. "Well, yes, of course that's -true," he said. "Out of Kravonia, anyhow. What's true in Kravonia I -really don't know yet."</p> - -<p>"I suppose it's true in Kravonia too. But what I tell you is -Monseigneur's will about me."</p> - -<p>He looked hard at her. "You love him?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"As my life, and more," said Sophy, simply.</p> - -<p>At last Dunstanbury ceased to look at her; he laid his elbows on the -battlements and stood there, his eyes roaming over the lake in the -valley to the mountains beyond. Sophy left his side, and began to walk -slowly up and down the rugged, uneven, overgrown surface of the walls.</p> - -<p>The moon was sinking in the sky; there would be three or four dark hours -before the dawn. A man galloped up to the gate and gave a countersign in -return to a challenge; the heavy gates rolled open; he rode in; another -rode out and cantered off along the road towards Praslok. There was -watch and ward—Volseni was not to be caught napping as Praslok had -been. Whether the King lived or died, his Volsenians were on guard. -Dunstanbury turned his back on the hills and came up to Sophy.</p> - -<p>"We Essex folk ought to stand by one another," he said. "It's the merest -chance that has brought me here, but I'm glad of the chance now. And -it's beginning to feel not the least strange. So long as you've need of -help, count me among your soldiers."</p> - -<p>"But you oughtn't to mix yourself up—"</p> - -<p>"Did you act on that principle when you came to Kravonia?"</p> - -<p>With a smile Sophy gave him her hand. "So be it. I accept your -service—for Monseigneur."</p> - -<p>"I give it to you," he persisted.</p> - -<p>"Yes—and all that is mine I give to Monseigneur," said Sophy.</p> - -<p>Any man who meets, or after an interval of time meets again, an -attractive woman, only to find that her thoughts are pre-empted and -totally preoccupied, suffers an annoyance not the less real because he -sees the absurdity of it; it is to find shut a gate which with better -luck might have been open. The unusual circumstances of his new -encounter with Sophy did not save Dunstanbury from this common form of -chagrin; the tragic element in her situation gave it a rather uncommon -flavor. He would fain have appeared as the knight-errant to rescue such -beauty in such distress; but the nature of the distress did not seem -favorable to the proper romantic sequel.</p> - -<p>He made his offer of service to her; she assigned him to the service of -Monseigneur! He laughed at his own annoyance—and determined to serve -Monseigneur as well as he could. At the same time, while conceding most -amply—nay, even feeling—Monseigneur's excuse, he could not admire his -policy in the choice of a bride. That was doubtless a sample of how -things were done in Kravonia! He lived to feel the excuse more -strongly—and to pronounce the judgment with greater hesitation.</p> - -<p>Sophy had given him her hand again as she accepted his offer in -Monseigneur's name.—He had not yet released it when she was called from -the street below in a woman's voice—a voice full of haste and alarm.</p> - -<p>"Marie Zerkovitch calls me! I must go at once," she said. "I expect -Monseigneur is awake." She hurried off with a nod of farewell.</p> - -<p>Dunstanbury stayed a little while on the wall, smoking a cigarette, and -then went down into the street. The door of the guard-house was shut; -all was very quiet as he passed along to the market-place where the inn -was situated. He went up to his room overlooking the street, and, taking -off his coat only, flung himself on the bed. He was minded thus to await -Basil Williamson's return with news of the King. But the excitement of -the day had wearied him; in ten minutes he was sound asleep.</p> - -<p>He was aroused by Basil Williamson's hand on his shoulder. The young -doctor, a slim-built, dark, wiry fellow, looked very weary and sad.</p> - -<p>"How has it gone?" asked Dunstanbury, sitting up.</p> - -<p>"It's been a terrible night. I'm glad you've had some sleep. He awoke -after an hour; the hemorrhage had set in again. I had to tell him it was -a thousand to one against him. He sent for her, and made me leave them -alone together. There was only one other room, and I waited there with a -little woman—a Madame Zerkovitch—who cried terribly. Then he sent for -Lukovitch, who seems to be the chief man in the place. Presently -Lukovitch went away, and I went back to the King. I found him terribly -exhausted; she was there, sitting by him and whispering to him now and -then; she seemed calm. Presently Lukovitch came back; the Zerkovitches -and the German man came too. They all came in—the King would not hear -my objections—and with them came a priest. And then and there the King -married her! She spoke to nobody except to me before the service began, -and then she only said: 'Monseigneur wishes it.' I waited till the -service was done, but I could bear no more. I went outside while they -shrived him. But I was called back hurriedly. Then the end came very -soon—in less than half an hour. He sent everybody away except her and -me, and when I had done all that was possible, I went as far off as I -could—into the corner of the room. I came back at a call from her just -before he died. The man was looking extraordinarily happy, Dunstanbury."</p> - -<p>"They were married?"</p> - -<p>"Oh yes. It's all right, I suppose—not that it seems to matter much -now, does it? Put on your coat and come to the window. You'll see a -sight you'll remember, I think."</p> - -<p>Together they went to the window. The sun had risen from behind the -mountains and flooded the city with light; the morning air was crisp and -fragrant. The market-place was thronged with people—men in line in -front, women, girls, and boys in a mass behind. They were all absolutely -quiet and silent. Opposite where they were was a raised platform of -wood, reached by steps from the ground; it was a rostrum for the use of -those who sold goods by auction in the market. A board on trestles had -been laid on this, and on the board was stretched the body of the King. -At his feet stood Lukovitch; behind were Max von Hollbrandt, Zerkovitch, -and Marie. At the King's head stood Sophy, and Peter Vassip knelt on the -ground beside her. She stood like a statue, white and still; but -Dunstanbury could see the Red Star glowing.</p> - -<p>Lukovitch seemed to have been speaking, although the sound of his voice -had not reached them through the closed window of the topmost room in -the inn. He spoke again now—not loudly, but in a very clear voice.</p> - -<p>"The King lies dead through treachery," he said. "In Slavna the German -woman rules, and her son, and the men who killed the King. Will you have -them to rule over you, men of Volseni?"</p> - -<p>A shout of "No!" rang out, followed again by absolute silence. Lukovitch -drew the curved sword that he wore and raised it in the air. All the -armed men followed his example; the rest, with the women and young -people, raised their right hands. It was their custom in calling Heaven -to witness.</p> - -<p>"God hears us!" said Lukovitch, and all the people repeated the words -after him.</p> - -<p>Dunstanbury whispered to Basil: "Do they mean to fight?" An eagerness -stirred in his voice.</p> - -<p>"Listen! He's speaking again."</p> - -<p>"Whom then will you have for your King, men of Volseni?" asked -Lukovitch. "There is one on whose finger the King has put the silver -ring of the Bailiffs of Volseni. With his own hand he set it there -before he died—he set it there when he made her his Queen, as you have -heard. Will you have the Bailiff of Volseni for your King?"</p> - -<p>A great shout of "Yes!" answered him.</p> - -<p>"You will have Sophia for your King?"</p> - -<p>"Sophia for our King!" they cried.</p> - -<p>Lukovitch raised his sword again; all raised swords or hands. The solemn -words "God hears us!" were spoken from every mouth. Lukovitch turned to -Sophy and handed his drawn sword to her. She took it. Then she knelt -down and kissed the King's lips. Rising to her feet again, she stood for -a moment silent, looking over the thronged market-square; yet she seemed -hardly to see; her eyes were vacant. At last she raised the sword to her -lips, kissed it, and then held it high in the air.</p> - -<p>"It was Monseigneur's wish. Let us avenge him! God hears me!"</p> - -<p>"God hears you!" came all the voices.</p> - -<p>The ceremony was finished. Six men took up the board on which the King -lay, carried it down from the rostrum, and along the street to the -guard-house. Sophy followed, and her friends walked after her. Still she -seemed as though in a dream; her voice had sounded absent, almost -unconscious. She was pale as death, save for the Red Star.</p> - -<p>Following her dead, she passed out of sight. Immediately the crowd began -to disperse, though most of the men with arms gathered round Lukovitch -and seemed to await his orders.</p> - -<p>Basil Williamson moved away from the window with a heavy sigh and a -gesture of dejection.</p> - -<p>"I wish we could get her safe out of it," he said. "Isn't it wonderful, -her being here?"</p> - -<p>"Yes—but I'd forgotten that." Dunstanbury was still by the window; he -had been thinking that his service now would not be to Monseigneur. Yet -no doubt Basil had mentioned the wisest form of service. Sophy's own few -words—the words for which she cited Heaven's witness—hinted at -another.</p> - -<p>But Basil had recalled his mind to the marvel. Moved as he had been by -his talk with Sophy, and even more by the scene which had just been -enacted before his eyes, his face lit up with a smile as he looked -across to Basil.</p> - -<p>"Yes, old fellow, wonderful! Sophy Grouch! Queen of Kravonia! It beats -Macbeth hollow!"</p> - -<p>"It's pretty nearly as dreary!" said Basil, with a discontented grunt.</p> - -<p>"I find it pretty nearly as exciting," Dunstanbury said. "And I hope for -a happier ending. Meanwhile"—he buckled the leather belt which held -his revolver round his waist—"I'm for some breakfast, and then I shall -go and ask that tall fellow who did all the talking if there's anything -I can do for King Sophia. By Jove! wouldn't Cousin Meg open her eyes?"</p> - -<p>"You'll end by getting yourself stuck up against the wall and shot," -Basil grumbled.</p> - -<p>"If I do, I'm quite sure of one thing, old fellow—and that is that your -wooden old mug will be next in the line, or thereabouts."</p> - -<p>"I say, Dunstanbury, I wish I could have saved him!"</p> - -<p>"So do I. Did you notice her face?"</p> - -<p>Williamson gave a scornful toss of his head.</p> - -<p>"Well, yes, I was an ass to ask that!" Dunstanbury admitted, candidly. -It would certainly not have been easy to avoid noticing Sophy's face.</p> - -<p>At six o'clock that morning Max von Hollbrandt took horse for Slavna. -His diplomatic character at once made it proper for him to rejoin his -Legation and enabled him to act as a messenger with safety to himself. -He carried the tidings of the death of the King and of the -proclamation—of Sophy. There was no concealment. Volseni's defiance to -Slavna was open and avowed. Volseni held that there was no true -Stefanovitch left, and cited the will of the last of the Royal House as -warrant for its choice. The gauntlet was thrown down with a royal air.</p> - -<p>It was well for Max to get back to his post. The diplomatists in Slavna, -and their chiefs at home, were soon to be busy with the affairs of -Kravonia. Mistitch had struck at the life of even more than his -King—that was to become evident before many days had passed.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>XX</h2> - -<h3>THEY HAVE COLDS IN SLAVNA</h3> - - -<p>It is permissible to turn with some relief—although of a kind more -congenial to the cynic than to an admirer of humanity—from the tragedy -of love in Volseni to the comedy of politics which began to develop -itself in Slavna from the hour of the proclamation of young Alexis.</p> - -<p>The first result of this auspicious event, following so closely on the -issue of Captain Mistitch's expedition, was to give all the diplomatists -bad colds. Some took to their beds, others went for a change of air; but -one and all had such colds as would certainly prevent them from -accepting royal invitations or being present at State functions. Young -Alexis had a cold, too, and was consequently unable to issue royal -invitations or take his part in State functions. Countess Ellenburg was -even more affected—she had lumbago; and even General Stenovics was -advised to keep quite quiet for a few days.</p> - -<p>Only Colonel Stafnitz's health seemed proof against the prevailing -epidemic. He was constantly to be seen about, very busy at the barracks, -very busy at Suleiman's Tower, very gay and cheerful on the terrace of -the Hôtel de Paris. But then he, of course, had been in no way -responsible for recent events. He was a soldier, and had only obeyed -orders; naturally his health was less affected. He was, in fact, in -very good spirits, and in very good temper except when he touched on -poor Captain Hercules's blundering, violent ways. "Not the man for a -delicate mission," he said, decisively, to Captain Markart. The Captain -forbore to remind him how it was that Mistitch had been sent on one. The -way in which the Colonel expressed his opinion made it clear that such a -reminder would not be welcome.</p> - -<p>The coterie which had engineered the revolution was set at sixes and -sevens by its success. The destruction of their common enemy was also -the removal of their common interest. Sophy at Volseni did not seem a -peril real enough or near enough to bind them together. Countess -Ellenburg wanted to be Regent; Stenovics was for a Council, with himself -in the chair. Stafnitz thought himself the obvious man to be Commandant -of Slavna; Stenovics would have agreed—only it was necessary to keep an -eye on Volseni! Now if he were to be Commandant, while the Colonel took -the field with a small but picked force! The Colonel screwed up his -mouth at that. "Make Praslok your headquarters, and you'll soon bring -the Sheepskins to their senses," Stenovics advised insidiously. Stafnitz -preferred headquarters in Suleiman's Tower! He was not sure that coming -back from Praslok with a small force, however picked, would be quite as -easy as going there.</p> - -<p>In the back of both men's minds there was a bit of news which had just -come to hand. The big guns had been delivered, and were on their way to -Slavna, coming down the Krath in barges. They were consigned to the -Commandant. Who was that important officer now to be?</p> - -<p>When thieves fall out, honest men come by their own. The venerable -saying involves one postulate—that there shall be honest men to do it. -In high places in Slavna this seemed to be a difficulty, and it is not -so certain that Kravonia's two great neighbors, to east and west, quite -filled the gap. These Powers were exchanging views now. They were -mightily shocked at the way Kravonia had been going on. Their Ministers -had worse colds than any of the other Ministers, and their Press had a -great deal to say about civilization and such like topics. Kravonia was -a rich country, and its geographical position was important. The history -of the world seems to show that the standard of civilization and -morality demanded of a country depends largely on its richness and the -importance of its geographical position.</p> - -<p>The neighbor on the west had plenty of mountains, but wanted some -fertile plains. The neighbor on the east had fertile plains adjacent to -the Kravonian frontier, and would like to hold the mountain line as a -protection to them. A far-seeing statesman would have discerned how -important correct behavior was to the interests of Kravonia! The great -neighbors began to move in the matter, but they moved slowly. They had -to see that their own keen sense of morality was not opposed to the keen -sense of morality of other great nations. The right to feel specially -outraged is a matter for diplomatic negotiations, often, no doubt, of -great delicacy.</p> - -<p>So in the mean time Slavna was left to its own devices for a little -longer—to amuse itself in its light-hearted, unremorseful, extremely -unconscientious way, and to frown and shake a distant fist at grim, -gray, sad little Volseni in the hills. With the stern and faithful band -who mourned the dead Prince neither Stenovics nor Stafnitz seemed for -the moment inclined to try conclusions, though each would have been very -glad to see the other undertake the enterprise. In a military regard, -moreover, they were right. The obvious thing, if Sophy still held out, -was to wait for the big guns. When once these were in position, the old -battlements of Volseni could stand scarcely longer than the walls of -Jericho. And the guns were at the head of navigation on the Krath now, -waiting for an escort to convoy them to Slavna. Max von Hollbrandt—too -insignificant a person to feel called upon to have a cold—moved about -Slavna, much amused with the situation, and highly gratified that the -fruit which the coterie had plucked looked like turning bitter in their -mouths.</p> - -<p>Within the Palace on the river-bank young Alexis was strutting his brief -hour, vastly pleased; but Countess Ellenburg was at her prayers again, -praying rather indiscriminately against everybody who might be -dangerous—against Sophy at Volseni; against the big neighbors, whose -designs began to be whispered; against Stenovics, who was fighting so -hard for himself that he gave little heed to her or to her dignity; -against Stafnitz, who might leave her the dignity, such as it was, but -certainly, if he established his own supremacy, would not leave her a -shred of power. Perhaps there were spectres also against whose accusing -shades she raised her petition—the man she had deluded, the man she had -helped to kill; but that theme seems too dark for the comedy of Slavna -in these days. The most practical step she took, so far as this world -goes, was to send a very solid sum of money to a bank in Dresden: it was -not the first remittance she had made from Slavna.</p> - -<p>Matters stood thus—young Alexis having been on the throne in Slavna, -and Sophy in Volseni, for one week—when Lepage ventured out from -Zerkovitch's sheltering roof. He had suffered from a chill by no means -purely diplomatic; but, apart from that, he had been in no hurry to show -himself; he feared to see Rastatz's rat-face peering for him. But all -was quiet. Sterkoff and Rastatz were busy with their Colonel in -Suleiman's Tower. In fact, nobody took any notice of Lepage; his secret, -once so vital, was now gossip of the market-place. He was secure—but he -was also out of a situation.</p> - -<p>He walked somewhat forlornly into St. Michael's Square, and as luck -would have it—Lepage thought it very bad luck—the first man he ran -against was Captain Markart. Uneasy in his conscience, Lepage tried to -evade the encounter, but the Captain was of another mind. His head was -sound again, and, on cool reflection, he was glad to have slept through -the events of what Stenovics's proclamation had styled "the auspicious -day." He seized little Lepage by the arm, greeted him with cordiality, -and carried him off to drink at the Golden Lion. Without imputing any -serious lack of sobriety to his companion, Lepage thought that this -refreshment was not the first of which the good-humored Captain had -partaken that forenoon; his manner was so very cordial, his talk so very -free.</p> - -<p>"Well, here we are!" he said. "We did our best, you and I, Lepage; our -consciences are clear. As loyal subjects, we have now to accept the -existing régime."</p> - -<p>"What is it?" asked Lepage. "I've been in-doors a week."</p> - -<p>"It's Alexis—still Alexis! Long live Alexis!" said Markart, with a -laugh. "You surely don't take Baroness Dobrava into account?"</p> - -<p>"I just wanted to know," said Lepage, drinking thoughtfully. -"And—er—Captain—behind Alexis? Guiding the youthful King? Countess -Ellenburg?"</p> - -<p>"No doubt, no doubt. Behind him his very pious mother, Lepage."</p> - -<p>"And behind her?" persisted Lepage.</p> - -<p>Markart laughed, but cast a glance round and shook his head.</p> - -<p>"Come, come, Captain, don't leave an old friend in the dark—just where -information would be useful!"</p> - -<p>"An old friend! Oh, when I remember my aching head! You think me very -forgiving, Monsieur Lepage."</p> - -<p>"If you knew the night I spent, you'd forgive me anything," said Lepage, -with a shudder of reminiscence.</p> - -<p>"Ah, well," said Markart, after another draught, "I'm a soldier—I shall -obey my orders."</p> - -<p>"Perfect, Captain! And who will give them to you, do you think?"</p> - -<p>"That's exactly what I'm waiting to see. Oh, I've turned prudent! No -more adventures for me!"</p> - -<p>"I'm quite of your mind; but it's so difficult to be prudent when one -doesn't know which is the strongest side."</p> - -<p>"You wouldn't go to Volseni?" laughed Markart.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps not; but there are difficulties nearer home. If you went out of -this door and turned to the left, you would come to the offices of the -Council of Ministers. If you turned to the right, and thence to the -right again, and on to the north wall, you would come, Captain, to -Suleiman's Tower. Now, as I understand, Colonel Stafnitz—"</p> - -<p>"Is at the Tower, and the General at the offices, eh?"</p> - -<p>"Precisely. Which turn do you mean to take?"</p> - -<p>Markart looked round again. "I shall sit here for a bit longer," he -said. He finished his liquor, thereby, perhaps, adding just the touch of -openness lacking to his advice, and, leaning forward, touched Lepage on -the arm.</p> - -<p>"Do you remember the Prince's guns—the guns for which he bartered -Captain Hercules?"</p> - -<p>"Ay, well!" said Lepage.</p> - -<p>"They're on the river, up at Kolskoï, now. I should keep my eye on them! -They're to be brought to Slavna. Who do you think'll bring them? Keep -your eye on that!"</p> - -<p>"They're both scoundrels," said Lepage, rising to go.</p> - -<p>Markart shrugged his shoulders. "The fruit lies on the ground for the -man who can pick it up! Why not? There's nobody who's got any right to -it now."</p> - -<p>He expressed exactly the view of the two great neighbors, though by no -means in the language which their official communications adopted.</p> - -<p>Stenovics knew their views very well. He had also received a pretty -plain intimation from Stafnitz that the Colonel considered the escorting -of the guns to Slavna as a purely military task, appertaining not to the -Ministry of State, but to the officer commanding the garrison in the -capital. Stafnitz was that officer, and he proposed himself to go to -Kolskoï. Suleiman's Tower, he added, would be left in the trustworthy -hands of Captain Sterkoff. Again Stenovics fully understood; indeed, the -Colonel was almost brutally candid. His letter was nothing less than -plain word that power lay with the sword, and that the sword was in his -own hand. Stenovics had got rid of King Sergius only to fall under the -rule of Dictator Stafnitz! Was that to be the end of it?</p> - -<p>Stenovics preferred any other issue. The ideal thing was his own rule in -the name of young Alexis, with such diplomatic honoring and humoring of -Countess Ellenburg as might prove necessary. That was plainly impossible -so long as Stafnitz was master of the army; it would become finally -hopeless if Sterkoff held Suleiman's Tower till Stafnitz brought the -guns to Slavna. What, then, was Stenovics's alternative? For he was not -yet brought to giving up the game as totally lost. His name stood high, -though his real power tottered on a most insecure foundation. He could -get good terms for his assistance: there was time to make friends with -the mammon of unrighteousness.</p> - -<p>Privately, as became invalids, without the knowledge of any one outside -their confidential <i>entourage</i>, the representatives of the two great -neighbors received General Stenovics. They are believed to have -convinced him that, in the event of any further disorders in Kravonia, -intervention could not be avoided; troops were on either frontier, ready -for such an emergency; a joint occupation would be forced on the Allies. -With a great deal of sorrow, no doubt, the General felt himself driven -to accept this conclusion.</p> - -<p>He at once requested Stafnitz to fetch the guns to Slavna; he left the -Colonel full discretion in the matter. His only desire was to insure the -tranquillity of the capital, and to show Volseni how hopeless it was to -maintain the fanciful and absurd claims of Baroness Dobrava. The -representatives, it must be supposed, approved this attitude, and wished -the General all success; at a later date his efforts to secure order, -and to avoid the inevitable but regrettable result of any new -disturbance, were handsomely acknowledged by both Powers. General -Stenovics had not Stafnitz's nerve and dash, but he was a man of -considerable resource.</p> - -<p>A man of good feeling, too, to judge from another step he took—whether -with the cognizance of the representatives or entirely of his own motion -has never become known. He waited till Colonel Stafnitz, who returned a -civil and almost effusive reply to his communication, had set off to -fetch the guns—which, as has been seen, had been unloaded from the -railway and lay at Kolskoï, three days' journey up the Krath; then he -entered into communication with Volseni. He sent Volseni a private and -friendly warning. What was the use of Volseni holding out when the big -guns were coming? It could mean only hopeless resistance, more disorder, -more blood-shed. Let Volseni and the lady whose claims it supported -consider that, be warned in time, and acknowledge King Alexis!</p> - -<p>This letter he addressed to Zerkovitch. There were insuperable -diplomatic difficulties in the way of addressing it to Sophy directly. -"Madam I may not call you, and Mistress I am loath to call you," said -Queen Elizabeth to the Archbishop's wife: it was just a case of that -sort of difficulty. He could not call her Queen of Kravonia, and she -would be offended if he called her Baroness Dobrava. So the letter went -to Zerkovitch, and it went by the hand of one of Zerkovitch's -friends—so anxious was the General to be as friendly and conciliatory -as circumstances permitted.</p> - -<p>Much to his surprise, considerably to his alarm, Lepage was sent for to -the General's private residence on the evening of the day on which -Colonel Stafnitz set out for Kolskoï to fetch the guns.</p> - -<p>Stenovics greeted him cordially, smoothed away his apprehension, -acquainted him with the nature of his mission and with the gist of the -letter which he was to carry. Stenovics seemed more placid to-night than -for some time back—possibly because he had got Stafnitz quietly out of -Slavna.</p> - -<p>"Beg Monsieur Zerkovitch to give the letter to Baroness Dobrava (he -called her that to Lepage) as soon as possible, and to urge her to -listen to it. Add that we shall be ready to treat her with every -consideration—any title in reason, and any provision in reason, too. -It's all in my letter, but repeat it on my behalf, Lepage."</p> - -<p>"I shouldn't think she'd take either title or money, General," said -Lepage, bluntly.</p> - -<p>"You think she's disinterested? No doubt, no doubt! She'll be the more -ready to see the uselessness of prolonging her present attitude." He -grew almost vehement, as he laid his hand on a large map which was -spread out on the table in front of him. "Look here, Lepage. This is -Monday. By Wednesday evening Colonel Stafnitz will be at Kolskoï—here!" -He put his finger by the spot. "On Thursday morning he'll start back. -The barges travel well, and—yes—I think he'll have his guns here by -Sunday; less than a week from now! Yes, on Thursday night he ought to -reach Evena, on Friday Rapska, on Saturday the lock at Miklevni. Yes, on -Saturday the lock at Miklevni! That would bring him here on Sunday. Yes, -the lock at Miklevni on Saturday, I think." He looked up at Lepage -almost imploringly. "If she hesitates, show her that. They're bound to -be here in less than a week!"</p> - -<p>Lepage cocked his head on one side and looked at the Minister -thoughtfully. It all sounded very convincing. Colonel Stafnitz would be -at the lock at Miklevni on Saturday, and on Sunday with the guns at -Slavna. And, of course, arduous though the transport would be, they -could be before Volseni in two or three days more. It was really no use -resisting!</p> - -<p>Stenovics passed a purse over to Lepage. "For your necessary expenses," -he said. Lepage took up the purse, which felt well filled, and pocketed -it. "The Baroness mayn't fully appreciate what I've been saying," added -Stenovics. "But Lukovitch knows every inch of the river—he'll make it -quite plain, if she asks him about it. And present her with my sincere -respects and sympathy—my sympathy with her as a private person, of -course. You mustn't commit me in any way, Lepage."</p> - -<p>"I think," said Lepage, "that you're capable of looking after that -department yourself, General. But aren't you making the Colonel go a -little too fast?"</p> - -<p>"No, no; the barges will do about that."</p> - -<p>"But he has a large force to move, I suppose?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, dear, no! A large force? No, no! Only a company—just about a -hundred strong, Lepage." He rose. "Just about a hundred, I think."</p> - -<p>"Ah, then he might keep time!" Lepage agreed, still very thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>"You'll start at once?" the General asked.</p> - -<p>"Within an hour."</p> - -<p>"That's right. We must run no unnecessary risks; delay might mean new -troubles."</p> - -<p>He held out his hand and shook Lepage's warmly. "You must believe that I -respect and share your grief at the King's death."</p> - -<p>"Which King, General?"</p> - -<p>"Oh! oh! King Alexis, of course! We must listen to the voice of the -nation. Our new King lives and reigns. The voice of the nation, Lepage!"</p> - -<p>"Ah!" said Lepage, dryly. "I'd been suspecting some ventriloquists!"</p> - -<p>General Stenovics honored the sally with a broad smile. He thought the -representatives with colds would be amused if he repeated it. The pat on -the shoulder which he gave Lepage was a congratulation. "The animal is -so very inarticulate of itself," he said.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a>XXI</h2> - -<h3>ON SATURDAY AT MIKLEVNI!</h3> - - -<p>Though not remote in distance, yet Volseni was apart and isolated from -all that was happening. Not only was nothing known of the two great -neighbors—nothing reached men in Volseni of the state of affairs in -Slavna itself. They did not know that the thieves were quarrelling about -the plunder, nor that the diplomatists had taken cold; they had not -bethought them of how the art of the ventriloquists would be at work. -They knew only that young Alexis reigned in Slavna by reason of their -King's murder and against the will of him who was dead; only that they -had chosen Sophia for their Queen because she had been the dead King's -wife and his chosen successor.</p> - -<p>All the men who could be spared from labor came into the city; they -collected what few horses they could; they filled their little fortress -with provisions. They could not go to Slavna, but they awaited with -confidence the day when Slavna should dare to move against them into the -hills. Slavna had never been able to beat them in their own hills yet; -the bolder spirits even implored Lukovitch to lead them down in a raid -on the plains.</p> - -<p>Lukovitch would sanction no more than a scouting party, to see whether -any movement were in progress from the other side. Peter Vassip rode -down with his men to within a few miles of Slavna. For result of the -expedition he brought back the news of the guns: the great guns, rumor -said, had reached Kravonia and were to be in Slavna in a week.</p> - -<p>The rank and file hardly understood what that meant; anger that their -destined and darling guns should fall into hostile hands was the feeling -uppermost. But the tidings struck their leaders home to the heart. -Lukovitch knew what it meant. Dunstanbury, who had served three years in -the army at home, knew very well. Covered by such a force as Stafnitz -could bring up, the guns could pound Volseni to pieces—and Volseni -could strike back not a single blow.</p> - -<p>"And it's all through her that the guns are here at all!" said -Zerkovitch, with a sigh for the irony of it.</p> - -<p>Dunstanbury laid his hand on Lukovitch's shoulder. "It's no use," he -said. "We must tell her so, and we must make the men understand. She -can't let them have their homes battered to pieces—the town with the -women and children in it—and all for nothing!"</p> - -<p>"We can't desert her," Lukovitch protested.</p> - -<p>"No; we must get her safely away, and then submit."</p> - -<p>Since Dunstanbury had offered his services to Sophy, he had assumed a -leading part. His military training and his knowledge of the world gave -him an influence over the rude, simple men. Lukovitch looked to him for -guidance; he had much to say in the primitive preparations for defence. -But now he declared defence to be impossible.</p> - -<p>"Who'll tell her so?" asked Basil Williamson.</p> - -<p>"We must get her across the frontier," said Dunstanbury. "There—by St. -Peter's Pass—the way we came, Basil. It's an easy journey, and I don't -suppose they'll try to intercept us. You can send twenty or thirty -well-mounted men with us, can't you, Lukovitch? A small party well -mounted is what we shall want."</p> - -<p>Lukovitch waved his hands sadly. "With the guns against us it would be a -mere massacre! If it must be, let it be as you say, my lord." His heart -was very heavy; after generations of defiance, Volseni must bow to -Slavna, and his dead Lord's will go for nothing! All this was the doing -of the great guns.</p> - -<p>Dunstanbury's argument was sound, but he argued from his heart as well -as his head. He was convinced that the best service he could render to -Sophy was to get her safely out of the country; his heart urged that her -safety was the one and only thing to consider. As she went to and fro -among them now, pale and silent, yet always accessible, always ready to -listen, to consider, and to answer, she moved him with an infinite pity -and a growing attraction. Her life was as though dead or frozen; it -seemed to him as though all Kravonia must be to her the tomb of him -whose grave in the little hill-side church of Volseni she visited so -often. An ardent and overpowering desire rose in him to rescue her, to -drag her forth from these dim cold shades into the sunlight of life -again. Then the spell of this frozen grief might be broken; then should -her drooping glories revive and bloom again. Kravonia and who ruled -there—ay, in his heart, even the fate of the gallant little city which -harbored them, and whose interest he pleaded—were nothing to him beside -Sophy. On her his thoughts were centred.</p> - -<p>Sophy's own mind in these days can be gathered only from what others -saw. She made no record of it. Fallen in an hour from heights of love -and hope and exaltation, she lay stunned in the abyss. In intellect calm -and collected, she seems to have been as one numbed in feeling, too -maimed for pain, suffering as though from a mortification of the heart. -The simple men and women of Volseni looked on her with awe, and -chattered fearfully of the Red Star: how that its wearer had been -predestined to high enterprise, but foredoomed to mighty reverses of -fortune. Amidst all their pity for her, they spoke of the Evil Eye; some -whispered that she had come to bring ruin on Volseni: had not the man -who loved her lost both Crown and life?</p> - -<p>And it was she through whom the guns had come! The meaning of the guns -had spread now to every hearth; what had once been hailed as an -achievement second only to her exploit in the Street of the Fountain -served now to point more finely the sharpening fears of superstition. -The men held by her still, but their wives were grumbling at them in -their homes. Was she not, after all, a stranger? Must Volseni lie in the -dust for her sake, for the sake of her who wore that ominous, -inexplicable Star?</p> - -<p>Dunstanbury knew all this; Lukovitch hardly sought to deny it, though he -was full of scorn for it; and Marie Zerkovitch had by heart the tales of -many wise old beldams who had prophesied this and that from the first -moment that they saw the Red Star. Surely and not slowly the enthusiasm -which had crowned Sophy was turning into a fear which made the people -shrink from her even while they pitied, even while they did not cease to -love. The hand of heaven was against her and against those who were -near her, said the women. The men still feigned not to hear; had they -not taken Heaven to witness that they would serve her and avenge the -King? Alas, their simple vow was too primitive for days like these—too -primitive for the days of the great guns which lay on the bosom of the -Krath!</p> - -<p>Dunstanbury had an interview with Sophy early on the Tuesday morning, -the day after Stafnitz had started for Kolskoï. He put his case with the -bluntness and honesty native to him. In his devotion to her safety he -did not spare her the truth. She listened with the smile devoid of -happiness which her face now wore so often.</p> - -<p>"I know it all," she said. "They begin to look differently at me as I -walk through the street—when I go to the church. If I stay here long -enough, they'll all call me a witch! But didn't they swear? And -I—haven't I sworn? Are we to do nothing for Monseigneur's memory?"</p> - -<p>"What can we do against the guns? The men can die, and the walls be -tumbled down! And there are the women and children!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I suppose we can do nothing. But it goes to my heart that they -should have Monseigneur's guns."</p> - -<p>"Your guns!" Dunstanbury reminded her with a smile of whimsical -sympathy.</p> - -<p>"That's what they say in the city, too?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"The old hags, who are clever at the weather and other mysteries. And, -of course, Madame Zerkovitch!"</p> - -<p>Sophy's smile broadened a little. "Oh, of course, poor little Marie -Zerkovitch!" she exclaimed. "She's been sure I'm a witch ever since -she's known me."</p> - -<p>"I want you to come over the frontier with me—and Basil Williamson. -I've some influence, and I can insure your getting through all right."</p> - -<p>"And then?"</p> - -<p>"Whatever you like. I shall be utterly at your orders."</p> - -<p>She leaned her head against the high chair in which she sat, a chair of -old oak, black as her hair; she fixed her profound eyes on his.</p> - -<p>"I wish I could stay here—in the little church—with Monseigneur," she -said.</p> - -<p>"By Heavens, no!" he cried, startled into sudden and untimely vehemence.</p> - -<p>"All my life is there," she went on, paying no heed to his outburst.</p> - -<p>"Give life another chance. You're very young."</p> - -<p>"You can't count life by years, any more than hours by minutes. You -reckon the journey not by the clock, but by the stages you have passed. -Once before I loved a man—and he was killed in battle. But that was -different. I was very hurt, but I wasn't maimed. I'm maimed now by the -death of Monseigneur."</p> - -<p>"You can't bring ruin on these folk, and you can't give yourself up to -Stenovics." He could not trust himself to speak more of her feelings nor -of the future; he came back to the present needs of the case.</p> - -<p>"It's true—and yet we swore!" She leaned forward to him. "And -you—aren't you afraid of the Red Star?"</p> - -<p>"We Essex men aren't afraid, we haven't enough imagination," he -answered, smiling again.</p> - -<p>She threw herself back, crying low: "Ah, if we could strike one -blow—just one—for the oath we swore and for Monseigneur! Then perhaps -I should be content."</p> - -<p>"To go with me?"</p> - -<p>"Perhaps—if, in striking it, what I should think best didn't come to -me."</p> - -<p>"You must run no danger, anyhow," he cried, hastily and eagerly.</p> - -<p>"My friend," she said, gently, "for such as I am to-day there's no such -thing as danger. Don't think I value my position here or the title -they've given me, poor men! I have loved titles"—for a moment she -smiled—"and I should have loved this one, if Monseigneur had lived. I -should have been proud as a child of it. If I could have borne it by his -side for even a few weeks, a few days! But now it's barren and -bitter—bitter and barren to me."</p> - -<p>He followed the thoughts at which her words hinted; they seemed to him -infinitely piteous.</p> - -<p>"Now, as things have fallen out, what am I in this country? A waif and -stray! I belong to nobody, and nobody to me."</p> - -<p>"Then come away!" he burst out again.</p> - -<p>Her deep eyes were set on his face once more. "Yes, that's the -conclusion," she said, very mournfully. "We Essex people are sensible, -aren't we? And we have no imagination. Did you laugh when you saw me -proclaimed and heard us swear?"</p> - -<p>"Good Heavens, no!"</p> - -<p>"Then think how my oath and my love call me to strike one blow for -Monseigneur!" She hid her eyes behind her hand for a moment. "Aren't -there fifty—thirty—twenty, who would count their lives well risked? -For what are men's lives given them?"</p> - -<p>"There's one at least, if you will have it so," Dunstanbury answered.</p> - -<p>There was a knock on the door, and without waiting for a bidding -Zerkovitch came quickly in; Lukovitch was behind, and with him Lepage. -Ten minutes before, the valet had ridden up to the city gates, waving -his handkerchief above his head.</p> - -<p>Sophy gave a cry of pleasure at seeing him. "A brave man, who loved his -King and served Monseigneur!" she said, as she darted forward and -clasped his hand.</p> - -<p>Zerkovitch was as excited and hurried as ever. He thrust a letter into -her hand. "From Stenovics, madame, for you to read," he said.</p> - -<p>She took it, saying to Lepage with a touch of reproach: "Are you General -Stenovics's messenger now, Monsieur Lepage?"</p> - -<p>"Read it, madame," said he.</p> - -<p>She obeyed, and then signed to Lukovitch to take it, and to Dunstanbury -to read it also. "It's just what you've been saying," she told him with -a faint smile, as she sank back in the high oaken seat.</p> - -<p>"I am to add, madame," said Lepage, "that you will be treated with every -consideration—any title in reason, any provision in reason, too."</p> - -<p>"So the General's letter says."</p> - -<p>"But I was told to repeat it," persisted the little man. He looked round -on them. Lukovitch and Dunstanbury had finished reading the letter and -were listening, too. "If you still hesitated, I was to impress upon you -that the guns would certainly be in Slavna in less than a week—almost -certainly on Sunday. You know the course of the river well, madame?"</p> - -<p>"Not very well above Slavna, no."</p> - -<p>"In that case, which General Stenovics didn't omit to consider, I was to -remind you that Captain Lukovitch probably knew every inch of it."</p> - -<p>"I know it intimately," said Lukovitch. "I spent two years on the -timber-barges of the Krath."</p> - -<p>"Then you, sir, will understand that the guns will certainly reach -Slavna not later than Sunday." He paused for a moment, seeming to -collect his memory. "By Wednesday evening Colonel Stafnitz will be at -Kolskoï. On Thursday morning he'll start back. On that evening he ought -to reach Evena, on Friday Rapska." Lukovitch nodded at each name. Lepage -went on methodically. "On Saturday the lock at Miklevni. Yes, on -Saturday the lock at Miklevni!" He paused again and looked straight at -Lukovitch.</p> - -<p>"Exactly—the lock at Miklevni," said that officer, with another nod.</p> - -<p>"Yes, the lock at Miklevni on Saturday. You see, it's not as if the -Colonel had a large force to move. That might take longer. He'll be able -to move his company as quick as the barges travel."</p> - -<p>"The stream's very strong, they travel pretty well," said Lukovitch.</p> - -<p>"But a hundred men—it's nothing to move, Captain Lukovitch." He looked -round on them again, and then turned back to Sophy. "That's all my -message, madame," he said.</p> - -<p>There was a silence.</p> - -<p>"So it's evident the guns will be in Slavna by Sunday," Lepage -concluded.</p> - -<p>"If they reach Miklevni on Saturday—any time on Saturday—they will," -said Lukovitch. "And up here very soon after!"</p> - -<p>"The General intimated that also, Captain Lukovitch."</p> - -<p>"The General gives us very careful information," observed Dunstanbury, -looking rather puzzled. He was not so well versed in Stenovics's methods -as the rest. Lukovitch smiled broadly, and even Zerkovitch gave a little -laugh.</p> - -<p>"How are things in Slavna, Monsieur Lepage?" the last named asked.</p> - -<p>Lepage smiled a little, too. "General Stenovics is in full control of -the city—during Colonel Stafnitz's absence, sir," he answered.</p> - -<p>"They've quarrelled?" cried Lukovitch.</p> - -<p>"Oh no, sir. Possibly General Stenovics is afraid they might." He spoke -again to Sophy. "Madame, do you still blame me for being the General's -messenger?"</p> - -<p>"No, Monsieur Lepage; but there's much to consider in the message. -Captain Lukovitch, if Monseigneur had read this message, what would he -have thought the General meant?"</p> - -<p>Lukovitch's face was full of excitement as he answered her:</p> - -<p>"The Prince wouldn't have cared what General Stenovics meant. He would -have said that the guns would be three days on the river before they -came to Slavna, that the barges would take the best part of an hour to -get through Miklevni lock, that there was good cover within a quarter of -a mile of the lock—"</p> - -<p>Sophy leaned forward eagerly. "Yes, yes?" she whispered.</p> - -<p>"And that an escort of a hundred men was—well, might be—not enough!"</p> - -<p>"And that riding from Volseni—?"</p> - -<p>"One might easily be at Miklevni before Colonel Stafnitz and the guns -could arrive there!"</p> - -<p>Dunstanbury gave a start, Zerkovitch a chuckle, Lepage a quiet smile. -Sophy rose to her feet; the Star glowed, there was even color in her -cheeks besides.</p> - -<p>"If there are fifty, or thirty, or twenty," she said, her eyes set on -Dunstanbury, "who would count their lives well risked, we may yet -strike one blow for Monseigneur and for the guns he loved."</p> - -<p>Dunstanbury looked round. "There are three here," he said.</p> - -<p>"Four!" called Basil Williamson from the doorway, where he had stood -unobserved.</p> - -<p>"Five!" cried Sophy, and, for the first time since Monseigneur died, she -laughed.</p> - -<p>"Five times five, and more, if we can get good horses enough!" said -Captain Lukovitch.</p> - -<p>"I should like to join you, but I must go back and tell General -Stenovics that you will consider his message, madame," smiled Lepage.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="XXII" id="XXII"></a>XXII</h2> - -<h3>JEALOUS OF DEATH</h3> - - -<p>In the end they started thirty strong, including Sophy herself. There -were the three Englishmen, Dunstanbury, Basil Williamson, and Henry -Brown, Dunstanbury's servant, an old soldier, a good rider and shot. The -rest were sturdy young men of Volseni, once destined for the ranks of -the Prince of Slavna's artillery; Lukovitch and Peter Vassip led them. -Not a married man was among them, for, to his intense indignation, -Zerkovitch was left behind in command of the city. Sophy would have this -so, and nothing would move her; she would not risk causing Marie -Zerkovitch to weep more and to harbor fresh fears of her. So they rode, -"without encumbrances," as Dunstanbury said, laughing—his spirits rose -inexpressibly as the moment of action came.</p> - -<p>Their horses were all that could be mustered in Volseni of a mettle -equal to the dash. The little band paraded in the market-place on Friday -afternoon; there they were joined by Sophy, who had been to pay a last -visit to Monseigneur's grave; she came among them sad, yet seeming more -serene. Her spirit was the happier for striking a blow in Monseigneur's -name. The rest of them were in high feather; the prospect of the -expedition went far to blot out the tragedy of the past and to veil the -threatening face of the future. As dusk fell, they rode out of the city -gate.</p> - -<p>Miklevni lies twenty miles up the course of the river from Slavna; but -the river flows there nearly from north to south, turning to the east -only four or five miles above the capital. You ride, then, from Volseni -to Miklevni almost in a straight line, leaving Slavna away on the left. -It is a distance of no more than thirty-five miles or thereabouts, but -the first ten consist of a precipitous and rugged descent by a -bridle-path from the hills to the valley of the Krath. No pace beyond a -walk was possible at any point here, and for the greater part of the way -it was necessary to lead the horses. When once the plain was reached, -there was good going, sometimes over country roads, sometimes over -grass, to Miklevni.</p> - -<p>It was plain that the expedition could easily be intercepted by a force -issuing from Slavna and placing itself astride the route; but then they -did not expect a force to issue from Slavna. That would be done only by -the orders of General Stenovics, and Lepage had gone back to Slavna to -tell the General that his message was being considered—very carefully -considered—in Volseni. General Stenovics, if they understood him -rightly, would not move till he heard more. For the rest, risks must be -run. If all went well, they hoped to reach Miklevni before dawn on -Saturday. There they were to lie in wait for Stafnitz—and for the big -guns which were coming down the Krath from Kolskoï to Slavna.</p> - -<p>Lukovitch was the guide, and had no lack of counsel from lads who knew -the hills as well as their sweethearts' faces. He rode first, and, while -they were on the bridle-path, they followed in single file, walking -their horses or leading them. Sophy and Dunstanbury rode behind, with -Basil Williamson and Henry Brown just in front of them. In advance, some -hundreds of yards, Peter Vassip acted as scout, coming back from time to -time to advise Lukovitch that the way was clear. The night fell fine and -fresh, but it was very dark. That did not matter; the men of Volseni -were like cats for seeing in the dark.</p> - -<p>The first ten miles passed slowly and tediously, but without mistake or -mishap. They halted on the edge of the plain an hour before midnight and -took rest and food—each man carried provisions for two days. Behind -them now rose the steep hills whence they had come, before them -stretched the wide plain; away on their left was Slavna, straight ahead -Miklevni, the goal of their pilgrimage. Lukovitch moved about, seeing -that every man gave heed to his horse and had his equipment and his -weapons in good order. Then came the word to remount, and between twelve -and one, with a cheer hastily suppressed, the troop set forth at a good -trot over the level ground. Now Williamson and Henry Brown fell to the -rear with three or four Volsenians, lest by any chance or accident Sophy -should lose or be cut off from the main body. Lukovitch and Peter Vassip -rode together at the head.</p> - -<p>To Dunstanbury that ride by night, through the spreading plain, was -wonderful—a thing sufficient in itself, without regard to its object or -its issue. He had seen some service before—and there was the joy of -that. He had known the comradeship of a bold enterprise—there was the -exaltation of that. He had taken great risks before—there was the -excitement of that. The night had ere now called him to the saddle—and -it called now with all its fascination. His blood tingled and burned -with all these things. But there was more. Beside him all the way was -the figure of Sophy dim in the darkness, and the dim silhouette of her -face—dim, yet, as it seemed, hardly blurred; its pallor stood out even -in the night. She engrossed his thoughts and spurred his speculations.</p> - -<p>What thoughts dwelt in her? Did she ride to death, and was it a death -she herself courted? If so, he was sworn in his soul to thwart her, even -to his own death. She was not food for death, his soul cried, -passionately protesting against that loss, that impoverishment of the -world. Why had they let her come? She was not a woman of whom that could -be asked; therefore it was that his mind so hung on her, with an -attraction, a fascination, an overbearing curiosity. The men of Volseni -seemed to think it natural that she should come. They knew her, then, -better than he did!</p> - -<p>Save for the exchange of a few words now and then about the road, they -had not talked; he had respected her silence. But she spoke now, and to -his great pleasure less sadly than he had expected. Her tone was light, -and witnessed to a whimsical enjoyment which not even memory could -altogether quench.</p> - -<p>"This is my first war, Lord Dunstanbury," she said. "The first time I've -taken the field in person at the head of my men!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, your Majesty's first campaign. May it be glorious!" he answered, -suiting his tone to hers.</p> - -<p>"My first and my last, I suppose. Well, I could hardly have looked to -have even one—in those old days you know of—could I?"</p> - -<p>"Frankly, I never expected to hold my commission as an officer from -you," he laughed. "As it is, I'm breaking all the laws in the world, I -suppose. Perhaps they'll never hear of it in England, though."</p> - -<p>"Where there are no laws left, you can break none," she said. "There are -none left in Kravonia now. There's but one crime—to be weak; and but -one penalty—death."</p> - -<p>"Neither the crime nor the penalty for us to-night!" he cried, gayly. -"Queen Sophia's star shines to-night!"</p> - -<p>"Can you see it?" she asked, touching her cheek a moment.</p> - -<p>"No, I can't," he laughed. "I forgot—I spoke metaphorically."</p> - -<p>"When people speak of my star, I always think of this. So my star shines -to-night? Yes, I think so—shines brightly before it sets! I wonder if -Kravonia's star, too, will have a setting soon—a stormy setting!"</p> - -<p>"Well, we're not helping to make it more tranquil," said Dunstanbury.</p> - -<p>He saw her turn her head suddenly and sharply towards him; she spoke -quickly and low.</p> - -<p>"I'm seeking a man's life in this expedition," she said. "It's his or -mine before we part."</p> - -<p>"I don't blame you for that."</p> - -<p>"Oh no!" The reply sounded almost contemptuous; at least it showed -plainly that her conscience was not troubled. "And he won't blame me -either. When he sees me, he'll know what it means."</p> - -<p>"And, in fact, I intend to help. So do we all, I think."</p> - -<p>"It was our oath in Volseni," she answered. "They think Monseigneur will -sleep the better for it. But I know well that nothing troubles -Monseigneur's sleep. And I'm so selfish that I wish he could be -troubled—yes, troubled about me; that he could be riding in the spirit -with us to-night, hoping for our victory; yet very anxious, very anxious -about me; that I could still bring him joy and sorrow, grief and -delight. I can't desire that Monseigneur should sleep so well. They're -kinder to him—his own folk of Volseni. They aren't jealous of his -sleep—not jealous of the peace of death. But I'm very jealous of it. -I'm to him now just as all the rest are; I, too, am nothing to -Monseigneur now."</p> - -<p>"Who knows? Who can know?" said Dunstanbury, softly.</p> - -<p>His attempted consolation, his invoking of the old persistent hope, the -saving doubt, did not reach her heart. In her great love of life, the -best she could ask of the tomb was a little memory there. So she had -told Monseigneur; such was the thought in her heart to-night. She was -jealous and forlorn because of the silent darkness which had wrapt her -lover from her sight and so enveloped him. He could not even ride with -her in the spirit on the night when she went forth to avenge the death -she mourned!</p> - -<p>The night broke towards dawn, the horizon grew gray. Lukovitch drew in -his rein, and the party fell to a gentle trot. Their journey was almost -done. Presently they halted for a few minutes, while Lukovitch and Peter -Vassip held a consultation. Then they jogged on again in the same order, -save that now Sophy and Dunstanbury rode with Lukovitch at the head of -the party. In another half-hour, the heavens lightening yet more, they -could discern the double row of low trees which marked, at irregular -intervals, the course of the river across the plain. At the same moment -a row of squat buildings rose in murky white between them and the -river-bank. Lukovitch pointed to it with his hand.</p> - -<p>"There we are, madame," he said. "That's the farm-house at the right -end, and the barn at the left—within a hundred yards of the lock. -There's our shelter till the Colonel comes."</p> - -<p>"What of the farmer?" asked Dunstanbury.</p> - -<p>"We shall catch him in his bed—him and his wife," said Lukovitch. -"There's only the pair of them. They keep the lock, and have a few acres -of pastureland to eke out their living. They'll give us no trouble. If -they do, we can lock them in and turn the key. Then we can lie quiet in -the barn; with a bit of close packing, it'll take us all. Peter Vassip -and I will be lock-keepers if anything comes by; we know the work—eh, -Peter?"</p> - -<p>"Ay, Captain; and the man—Peter's his name too, by-the-way—must give -us something to hide our sheepskins."</p> - -<p>Sophy turned to Dunstanbury. She was smiling now.</p> - -<p>"It sounds very simple, doesn't it?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"Then we watch our chance for a dash—when the Colonel's off his guard," -Lukovitch went on.</p> - -<p>"But if he won't oblige us in that way?" asked Dunstanbury, with a -laugh.</p> - -<p>"Then he shall have the reward of his virtue in a better fight for the -guns," said Lukovitch. "Now, lads, ready! Listen! I'm going forward with -Peter Vassip here and four more. We'll secure the man and his wife; -there might be a servant-girl on the premises too, perhaps. When you -hear my whistle, the rest of you will follow. You'll take command, my -lord?" He turned to Sophy. "Madame, will you come with me or stay here?"</p> - -<p>"I'll follow with Lord Dunstanbury," she said. "We ought all to be in -the barn before it's light?"</p> - -<p>"Surely! A barge might come up or down the river, you see, and it -wouldn't do for the men on board to see anybody but Vassip and me, who -are to be the lock-keepers."</p> - -<p>He and Peter Vassip rode off with their party of four, and the rest -waited in a field a couple of hundred yards from the barn—a dip in the -ground afforded fair cover. Some of the men began to dismount, but -Dunstanbury stopped them. "It's just that one never knows," he said; -"and it's better to be on your horse than off it in case any trouble -does come, you know."</p> - -<p>"There oughtn't to be much trouble with the lock-keeper and his wife—or -even with the servant-girl," said Basil Williamson.</p> - -<p>"Girls can make a difference sometimes," Sophy said, with a smile. "I -did once, in the Street of the Fountain over in Slavna there!"</p> - -<p>Dunstanbury's precaution was amply justified, for, to their -astonishment, the next instant a shot rang through the air, and, the -moment after, a loud cry. A riderless horse galloped wildly past them; -the sheepskin rug across the saddle marked it as belonging to a -Volsenian.</p> - -<p>"By Heaven, have they got there before us?" whispered Dunstanbury.</p> - -<p>"I hope so; we sha'n't have to wait," said Sophy.</p> - -<p>But they did wait there a moment. Then came a confused noise from the -long, low barn. Then a clatter of hoofs, and Lukovitch was with them -again; but his comrades were four men now, not five.</p> - -<p>"Hush! Silence! Keep cover!" he panted breathlessly. "Stafnitz is here -already; at least, there are men in the barn, and horses tethered -outside, and the barges are on the river, just above the lock. The -sentry saw us. He challenged and fired, and one of us dropped. It must -be Stafnitz!"</p> - -<p>Stafnitz it was. General Stenovics had failed to allow for the respect -which his colleague entertained for his abilities. If Stenovics expected -him back at Slavna with his guns on the Sunday, Stafnitz was quite clear -that he had better arrive on Saturday. To this end he had strained every -nerve. The stream was with him, flowing strong, but the wind was -contrary; his barges had not made very good progress. He had pressed the -horses of his company into service on the towing-path. Stenovics had not -thought of that. His rest at Rapska had been only long enough to give -his men and beasts an hour's rest and food and drink. To his pride and -exultation, he had reached the lock at Miklevni at nightfall on Friday, -almost exactly at the hour when Sophy's expedition set out on its ride -to intercept him. Men and horses might be weary now; Stafnitz could -afford to be indifferent to that. He could give them a good rest, and -yet, starting at seven the next morning, be in Slavna with them and the -guns in the course of the afternoon. There might be nothing wrong, of -course—but it was no harm to forestall any close and clever calculation -of the General's.</p> - -<p>"The sentry?" whispered Dunstanbury.</p> - -<p>"I had to cut him down. Shall we be at them, my lord?"</p> - -<p>"No, not yet. They're in the barn, aren't they?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. Don't you hear them? Listen! That's the door opened. Shall we -charge?"</p> - -<p>"No, no, not yet. They'd retreat inside, and it would be the devil then. -They'd have the pull of us. Wait for them to come out. They must send to -look for the sentry. Tell the men to lean right down in their -saddles—close down—close! Then the ground covers us. And now—silence -till I give the word!"</p> - -<p>Silence fell again for a few moments. They were waiting for a movement -from Stafnitz's men in the barn. Only Dunstanbury, bareheaded, risked a -look over the hillock which protected them from view.</p> - -<p>A single man had come out of the barn, and was looking about him for the -sentry who had fired. He seemed to suspect no other presence. Stafnitz -must have been caught in a sound nap this time.</p> - -<p>The searcher found his man and dropped on his knees by him for a moment. -Then he rose and ran hurriedly towards the barn, crying: "Colonel! -Colonel!"</p> - -<p>"Now!" whispered impetuous Lukovitch.</p> - -<p>But Dunstanbury pressed him down again, saying: "Not yet. Not yet."</p> - -<p>Sophy laid her hand on his arm. "Half of us to the barges," she said.</p> - -<p>In their eagerness for the fight, Lukovitch and Dunstanbury had -forgotten the main object of it. But the guns were what Monseigneur -would have thought of first—what Stafnitz must first think of too—the -centre of contest and the guerdon of victory.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="XXIII" id="XXIII"></a>XXIII</h2> - -<h3>A WOMAN AND A GHOST</h3> - - -<p>For the history of this night from the enemy's side, thanks are due to -the memory, and to the unabashed courtesy, of Lieutenant Rastatz, who -came alive, if not with a whole skin, out of the encounter, and lived to -reach middle age under a new <i>régime</i> so unappreciative of his services -that it cashiered him for getting drunk within a year from this date. He -ended his days as a billiard-marker at the Golden Lion—a fact agreeable -to poetic justice, but not otherwise material. While occupying that -capacity, he was always ready to open his mouth to talk, provided he -were afforded also a better reason for opening it.</p> - -<p>Stafnitz and his men felt that their hard work was done; they were -within touch of Slavna, and they had no reason, as they supposed, to -fear any attack. The Colonel had indulged them in something approaching -to a carouse. Songs had been sung, and speeches made; congratulations -were freely offered to the Colonel; allusions were thrown out, not too -carefully veiled, to the predicament in which Stenovics found himself. -Hard work, a good supper, and plentiful wine had their effect. Save the -sentries, all were asleep at ten o'clock, and game to sleep till the -reveille sounded at six.</p> - -<p>Their presence was a surprise to their assailants, who had, perhaps, -approached in too rash a confidence that they were first on the ground; -but the greater surprise befell those who had now to defend the barges -and the guns. When the man who had found the dead sentry ran back and -told his tale, all of them, from Stafnitz downward, conceived that the -attack must come from Stenovics; none thought of Sophy and her -Volsenians. There they were, packed in the barn, separated from their -horses, and with their carbines laid aside. The carbines were easily -caught up; the horses not so easily reached, supposing an active, -skilful enemy at hand outside.</p> - -<p>For themselves, their position was good to stand a siege. But Stafnitz -could not afford that. His mind flew where Sophy's had. Throughout, and -on both sides, the guns were the factor which dominated the tactics of -the fight. It was no use for Stafnitz to stay snug in the barn while the -enemy overpowered the bargees (supposing they tried to fight), disposed -of the sentry stationed on each deck, and captured the guns. Let the -assailant carry them off, and the Colonel's game was up! Whoever the foe -was, the fight was for the guns—and for one other thing, no doubt—for -the Colonel's life.</p> - -<p>"We felt in the deuce of a mess," Rastatz related, "for we didn't know -how many they were, and we couldn't see one of them. The Colonel walked -out of the barn, cool as a cucumber, and looked and listened. He called -to me to go with him, and so I did, keeping as much behind his back as -possible. Nothing was to be seen, nothing to be heard. He pointed to the -rising ground opposite. 'That must hide them,' he said. Back he went and -called the first half-company. 'You'll follow me in single file out of -the barn and round to the back of it; let there be a foot between each -of you—room enough to miss. When once you get in rear of the barn, make -for the barges. Never mind the horses. The second half-company will -cover the horses with their fire. Rastatz, see my detachment round, and -then follow. We'll leave the sergeant-major in command here. Now, quick, -follow me!'</p> - -<p>"Out he went, and the men began to follow in their order. I had to stand -in the doorway and regulate the distance between man and man. I hadn't -been there two seconds before a dozen heads came over the hill, and a -dozen rifles cracked. Luckily the Colonel was just round the corner. -Down went the heads again, but they'd bagged two of our fellows. I -shouted to more to come out, and at the same time ordered the -sergeant-major to send a file forward to answer the fire. Up came the -heads again, and they bagged three more. Our fellows blazed away in -reply, but they'd dropped too quickly—I don't think we got one.</p> - -<p>"Well, we didn't mind so much about keeping our exact distances after -that—and I wouldn't swear that the whole fifty of us faced the fire; it -was devilish disconcerting, you know; but in a few minutes thirty or -five-and-thirty of us got round the side of the barn somehow, and for -the moment out of harm's way. We heard the fire going on still in front, -but only in a desultory way. They weren't trying to rush us—and I don't -think we had any idea of rushing them. For all we knew, they might be -two hundred—or they might be a dozen. At any rate, with the advantage -of position, they were enough to bottle our men up in the barn, for the -moment at all events."</p> - -<p>This account makes what had happened pretty plain. Half of Sophy's -force had been left to hold the enemy, or as many of them as possible, -in the barn. They had dismounted, and, well covered by the hill, could -make good practice without much danger to themselves. Lukovitch was in -command of this section of the little troop. Sophy, Dunstanbury, and -Peter Vassip, also on foot (the horses' hoofs would have betrayed them), -were stealing round, intent on getting between the barges and any men -whom Stafnitz tried to place in position for their defence. After -leaving men for the containing party, and three to look after the -horses, this detachment was no more than a dozen strong. But they had -started before Stafnitz's men had got out of the barn, and, despite the -smaller distance the latter had to traverse, could make a good race of -it for the barges. They had all kept together, too, while the enemy -straggled round to the rear of the barn in single file. And they had one -great, perhaps decisive, advantage, of whose existence Peter Vassip, -their guide, was well aware.</p> - -<p>Forty yards beyond the farm a small ditch ran down to the Krath; on the -side near the farm it had a high, overhanging bank, the other side being -nearly level with the adjoining meadow. Thus it formed a natural trench -and led straight down to where the first of the barges lay. It would -have been open to an enfilade from the river, but Stafnitz had only one -sentry on each barge, and these men were occupied in staring at their -advancing companions and calling out to know what was the matter. As for -the bargees, they had wisely declared neutrality, deeming the matter no -business of theirs; shots were not within the terms of a contract for -transport. Stafnitz, not dreaming of an attack, had not reconnoitred -his ground. But Lukovitch knew every inch of it (had not General -Stenovics remembered that?), and so did Peter Vassip. The surprise of -Praslok was to be avenged.</p> - -<p>Rastatz takes up the tale again; his narrative has one or two touches -vivid with a local color.</p> - -<p>"When I got round to the rear of the barn, I found our fellows scattered -about on their bellies. The Colonel was in front on his belly, with his -head just raised from the ground, looking about him. I lay down, too, -getting my head behind a stone which chanced to be near me. I looked -about me too, when it seemed safe. And it did seem safe at first, for we -could hear nothing, and deuce a man could we see! But it wasn't very -pleasant, because we knew that, sure enough, they must be pretty near us -somewhere. Presently the Colonel came crawling back to me. 'What do you -make of it, Rastatz?' he whispered. Before I could answer, we heard a -brisk exchange of fire in front of the barn. 'I don't like it,' I said. -'I can't see them, and I've a notion they can see me, Colonel, and -that's not the pleasantest way to fight, is it?' 'Gad, you're right!' -said he, 'but they won't see me any the better for a cigarette'—and -then and there he lit one.</p> - -<p>"Well, he'd just thrown away his match when a young fellow—quite a lad -he was—a couple of yards from us, suddenly jumped from his belly on to -his knees and called out quite loud—it seemed to me he'd got a sort of -panic—quite loud, he called out: 'Sheepskins! Sheepskins!' I jumped -myself, and I saw the Colonel start. But, by Jove, it was true! When you -took a sniff, you could smell them. Of course I don't mean what the -better class wear—you couldn't have smelt the tunic our lamented -Prince wore, nor the one the witch decked herself out in—but you could -smell a common fellow's sheepskin twenty yards off—ay, against the -wind, unless the wind was mighty strong.</p> - -<p>"'Sheepskins it is!' said the Colonel with a sniff. 'Volsenians, by gad! -It's Mistress Sophia, Rastatz, or some of her friends, anyhow.' Then he -swore worthily: 'Stenovics must have put them up to this! And where the -devil are they, Rastatz?' He raised his head as he spoke, and got his -answer. A bullet came singing along and went right through his shako; it -came from the line of the ditch. He lay down again, laughed a little, -and took a puff at his cigarette before he threw it away. Just then one -of our sentries bellowed from the first barge: 'In the ditch! In the -ditch!' 'I wish you'd spoken a bit sooner,' says the Colonel, laughing -again."</p> - -<p>While this was passing on Stafnitz's side, Sophy and her party were -working quietly and cautiously down the course of the ditch. Under the -shelter of its bank they had been able to hold a brief and hurried -consultation. What they feared was that Stafnitz would make a dash for -the barges. Their fire might drop half his men, but the survivors, when -once on board—and the barges were drawn up to the edge of the -stream—would still be as numerous as themselves, and would command the -course of the ditch, which was at present their great resource and -protection. But if they could get on board before the enemy, they -believed they could hold their own; the decks were covered with -<i>impedimenta</i> of one sort or another which would afford them cover, -while any party which tried to board must expose itself to fire to a -serious and probably fatal extent.</p> - -<p>So they worked down the ditch—except two of them. Little as they could -spare even two, it was judged well to leave these; their instructions -were to fire at short intervals, whether there was much chance of -hitting anybody or not. Dunstanbury hoped by this trick to make Stafnitz -believe that the whole detachment was stationary in the ditch thirty -yards or more from the point where it joined the river. Only ten strong -now—and one of them a woman—they made their way towards the mouth of -the ditch and towards the barges which held the prize they sought.</p> - -<p>But a diversion, and a very effective one, was soon to come from the -front of the barn. Fearing that the party under Sophy and Dunstanbury -might be overpowered, Lukovitch determined on a bold step—that of -enticing the holders of the barn from their shelter. He directed his men -to keep up a brisk fire at the door; he himself and another man—one -Ossip Yensko—disregarding the risk, made a rapid dash across the line -of fire from the barn, for the spot where the horses were. The fire -directed at the door successfully covered their daring movement; they -were among the horses in a moment, and hard at work cutting the bands -with which they were tethered; the animals were half mad with fright, -and the task was one of great danger.</p> - -<p>But the manœuvre was eminently successful. A cry of "The horses! The -horses!" went up from the barn. Men appeared in the doorway; the -sergeant-major in command himself ran out. Half the horses were loose, -and stampeded along the towing-path down the river. "The horses! The -horses!" The defenders surged out of the barn, in deadly fear of being -caught there in a trap. They preferred the chances of the fire, and -streamed out in a disorderly throng. Lukovitch and Yensko cut loose as -many more horses as they dared wait to release; then, as the defenders -rushed forward, retreated, flying for their lives. Lukovitch came off -with a ball in his arm; Yensko dropped, shot through the heart. The men -behind the hill riddled the defenders with their fire. But now they were -by their horses—such as were left of them—nearer twenty than ten -dotted the grass outside the barn-door. And the survivors were -demoralized; their leader, the sergeant-major, lay dead. They released -the remaining horses, mounted, and with one parting volley fled down the -river. With a cry of triumph, Lukovitch collected the remainder of his -men and dashed round the side of the barn. The next moment Colonel -Stafnitz found himself attacked in his rear as well as held in check -from the ditch in his front.</p> - -<p>"For a moment we thought it was our own men," said Rastatz, continuing -his account, "and the Colonel shouted: 'Don't fire, you fools!' But then -they cheered, and we knew the Volsenian accent—curse them! 'Sheepskins -again!' said the Colonel, with a wry kind of smile. He didn't hesitate -then; he jumped up, crying: 'To the barges! To the barges! Follow me!'</p> - -<p>"We all followed: it was just as safe to go with him as to stay where -you were! We made a dash for it and got to the bank of the river. Then -they rose out of the ditch in front of us—and they were at us behind, -too—with steel now; they daren't shoot, for fear of hitting their own -people in our front. But the idea of a knife in your back isn't -pleasant, and in the end more of our men turned to meet them than went -on with the Colonel. I went on with him, though. I'm always for the -safest place, if there's one safer than another. But here there wasn't, -so I thought I might as well do the proper thing. We met them right by -the water's-edge, and the first I made out was the witch herself, in -sheepskins like the rest of them, white as a sheet, but with that -infernal mark absolutely blazing. She was between Peter Vassip and a -tall man I didn't know—I found out afterwards that he was the -Englishman Dunstanbury—and the three came straight at us. She cried: -'The King! the King!' and behind us we heard Lukovitch and his lot -crying: 'The King! the King!'</p> - -<p>"Our fellows didn't like it, that's the truth. They were uneasy in their -minds about that job of poor old Mistitch's, and they feared the witch -like the devil. The heart was out of them; one lad near me burst out -crying. A witch and a ghost didn't seem pleasant things to fight. Oh, it -was all nonsense, but you know what fellows like that are. Their cry of -'The King!' and the sight of the woman caused a moment's hesitation. It -was enough to give them the drop on us. But the Colonel never hesitated; -he flung himself straight at her, and fired as he sprang. I just saw -what happened before I got a crack on the crown of the head from the -butt-end of a rifle, which knocked me out of time. As the Colonel fired, -Peter Vassip flung himself in front of her, and took the bullet in his -own body. Dunstanbury jumped right on the Colonel, cut him on the arm so -that he dropped his revolver, and grappled with him. Dunstanbury dropped -his sword, and the Colonel's wasn't drawn. It was just a tussle. They -were tussling when the blood came flowing down into my eyes from the -wound on my head; I couldn't see anything more; I fainted. Just as I -went off I heard somebody cry: 'Hands up!' and I imagined the fighting -was pretty well over."</p> - -<p>The fighting was over. One scene remained which Rastatz did not see. -When Colonel Stafnitz, too, heard the call "Hands up!" when the firing -stopped and all became quiet, he ceased to struggle. Dunstanbury found -him suddenly changed to a log beneath him; his hands were already on the -Colonel's throat, and he could have strangled him now without -difficulty. But when Stafnitz no longer tried to defend himself, he -loosed his hold, got up, and stood over him with his hand on the -revolver in his belt. The Colonel fingered his throat a minute, sat up, -looked round, and rose to his feet. He saw Sophy standing before him; by -her side Peter Vassip lay on the ground, tended by Basil Williamson and -one of his comrades. Colonel Stafnitz bowed to Sophy with a smile.</p> - -<p>"I forgot you, madame," said Stafnitz.</p> - -<p>"I didn't forget Monseigneur," she answered.</p> - -<p>He looked round him again, shrugged his shoulders, and seemed to think -for a moment. There was an absolute stillness—a contrast to the -preceding turmoil. But the silence made uncomfortable men whom the fight -had not shaken. Their eyes were set on Stafnitz.</p> - -<p>"The Prince died in fair fight," he said.</p> - -<p>"No; you sent Mistitch to murder him," Sophy replied. Her eyes were -relentless; and Stafnitz was ringed round with enemies.</p> - -<p>"I apologize for this embarrassment. I really ought to have been -killed—it's just a mistake," he said, with a smile. He turned quickly -to Dunstanbury: "You seem to be a gentleman, sir. Pray come with me; I -need a witness." He pointed with his unwounded hand to the barn.</p> - -<p>Dunstanbury bowed assent. The Colonel, in his turn, bowed to Sophy, and -the two of them turned and walked off towards the barn. Sophy stood -motionless, watching them until they turned the corner; then she fell on -her knees and began to talk soothingly to Peter Vassip, who was hard -hit, but, in Basil Williamson's opinion, promised to do well. Sophy was -talking to the poor fellow when the sound of a revolver shot—a single -shot—came from the barn. Colonel Stafnitz had corrected the mistake. -Sophy did not raise her head. A moment later Dunstanbury came back and -rejoined them. He exchanged a look with Sophy, inclining his head as a -man does in answering "Yes." Then she rose.</p> - -<p>"Now for the barges and the guns," she said.</p> - -<p>They could not carry the guns back to Volseni; nor, indeed, was there -any use for them there now. But neither were Monseigneur's guns for the -enemies of Monseigneur. Under Lukovitch's skilled directions (his wound -proved slight) the big guns were so disabled as to remain of little -value, and the barges taken out into mid-stream and there scuttled with -their cargoes. While one party pursued this work, Dunstanbury made the -prisoners collect their wounded and dead, place them on a wagon, and set -out on their march to Slavna. Then his men placed their dead on -horses—they had lost three. Five were wounded besides Peter Vassip, but -none of them severely—all could ride. For Peter they took a cart from -the farm to convey him as far as the ascent to the hills; up that he -would have to be carried by his comrades.</p> - -<p>It was noon before all their work was done. The barges were settling in -the water. As they started to ride back to Volseni, the first sank; the -second was soon to follow it.</p> - -<p>"We have done our work," said Lukovitch.</p> - -<p>And Sophy answered, "Yes."</p> - -<p>But Stafnitz's men had not carried the body of their commander back. -They left it in the barn, cursing him for the trap he had led them into. -Later in the day, the panic-stricken lock-keeper stole out from the -cellar where he had hidden himself, and found it in the barn. He and his -wife lifted it with cursings, bore it to the river, and flung it in. It -was carried over the weir, and floated down to Slavna. They fished it -out with a boat-hook just opposite Suleiman's Tower. The hint to Captain -Sterkoff was a broad one. He reported a vacancy in the command, and sent -the keys of the fort to General Stenovics. It was Sunday morning.</p> - -<p>"The Colonel has got back just when he said he would. But where are the -guns?" asked General Stenovics of Captain Markart. The Captain had by -now made up his mind which turn to take.</p> - -<p>But no power ensued to Stenovics. At the best his fate was a soft -fall—a fall on to a cushioned shelf. The cup of Kravonia's iniquity, -full with the Prince's murder, brimmed over with the punishment of the -man who had caused it. The fight by the lock of Miklevni sealed -Kravonia's fate. Civilization must be vindicated! Long columns of -flat-capped soldiers begin to wind, like a great snake, over the summit -of St. Peter's Pass. Sophy watched them through a telescope from the old -wall of Volseni.</p> - -<p>"Our work is done. Monseigneur has mightier avengers," she said.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="XXIV" id="XXIV"></a>XXIV</h2> - -<h3>TRUE TO HER LOVE</h3> - - -<p>Volseni forgave Sophy its dead and wounded sons. Her popularity blazed -up in a last fierce, flickering fire. The guns were taken; they would -not go to Slavna; they would never batter the walls of Volseni into -fragments. Slavna might be defied again. That was the great thing to -Volseni, and it made little account of the snakelike line which crawled -over St. Peter's Pass, and down to Dobrava, and on to Slavna. Let -Slavna—hated Slavna—reckon with that! And if the snake—or another -like it—came to Volseni? Well, that was better than knuckling down to -Slavna. To-night King Sergius was avenged, and Queen Sophia had returned -in victory!</p> - -<p>For the first time since the King's death the bell of the ancient church -rang joyously, and men sang and feasted in the gray city of the hills. -Thirty from Volseni had beaten a hundred from Slavna; the guns were at -the bottom of the Krath; it was enough. If Sophy had bidden them, they -would have streamed down on Slavna that night in one of those fierce -raids in which their forefathers of the Middle Ages had loved to swoop -upon the plain.</p> - -<p>But Sophy had no delusions. She saw her Crown—that fleeting phantom -ornament, fitly foreseen in the visions of a charlatan—passing from her -brow without a sigh. She had not needed Dunstanbury's arguments to -prove to her that there was no place for her left in Kravonia. She was -content to have it so; she had done enough. Sorrow had not passed from -her face, but serenity had come upon it in fuller measure. She had -struck for Monseigneur, and the blow was witness to her love. It was -enough in her, and enough in little Volseni. Let the mightier avengers -do the rest!</p> - -<p>She had allowed Dunstanbury to leave her after supper in order to make -preparations for a start to the frontier at dawn. "You must certainly -go," she had said, "and perhaps I'll come with you."</p> - -<p>She went at night up on to the wall—always her favorite place; she -loved the spaciousness of air and open country before her there. Basil -Williamson found her deep in thought when he came to tell her of the -progress of the wounded.</p> - -<p>"They're all doing well, and Peter Vassip will live. Dunstanbury has -made him promise to come to him when he's recovered, so you'll meet him -again at all events. And Marie Zerkovitch and her husband talk of -settling in Paris. You won't lose all your Kravonian friends."</p> - -<p>"You assume that I'm coming with you to-morrow morning?"</p> - -<p>"I'm quite safe in assuming that Dunstanbury won't go unless you do," he -answered, smiling. "We can't leave you alone here, you know."</p> - -<p>"I shouldn't stay here, anyhow," she said. "Or, at any rate, I should be -where nobody could hurt me." She pointed at a dim lantern, fastened to -the gate-tower by an iron clamp, then waved her hand towards the -surrounding darkness. "That's life, isn't it?" she asked. "If I believed -that I could go to Monseigneur, I would go to-night—nay, I would have -gone at Miklevni; it was only putting my head out of that ditch a minute -sooner! If I believed even that I could lie in the church there and know -that he was near! If I believed even that I could lie there quietly and -remember and think of him! You're a man of science—you're not a -peasant's child, as I am. What do you think? You mustn't wonder that -I've had my thoughts, too. At Lady Meg's we did little else than try to -find out whether we were going on anywhere else. That's all she cared -about. And if she does ever get to a next world, she won't care about -that; she'll only go on trying to find out whether there's still another -beyond. What do you think?"</p> - -<p>"I hardly expected to find you so philosophically inclined," he said.</p> - -<p>"It's a practical question with me now. On its answer depends whether I -come with you or stay here—by Monseigneur in the church."</p> - -<p>Basil said something professional—something about nerves and temporary -strain. But he performed this homage to medical etiquette in a rather -perfunctory fashion. He had never seen a woman more composed or more -obviously and perfectly healthy. Sophy smiled and went on:</p> - -<p>"But if I live, I'm sure at least of being able to think and able to -remember. It comes to a gamble, doesn't it? It's just possible I might -get more; it's quite likely—I think it's probable—I should lose even -what I have now."</p> - -<p>"I think you're probably right about the chances of the gamble," he told -her, "though no doubt certainty is out of place—or at least one doesn't -talk about it. Shall I tell you what science says?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Sophy, smiling faintly. "Science thinks in multitudes—and -I'm thinking of the individual to-night. Even Lady Meg never made much -of science, you know."</p> - -<p>"Do you remember the day when I heard you your Catechism in the avenue -at Morpingham?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I remember. Does the Catechism hold good in Kravonia, though?"</p> - -<p>"It continues, anyhow, a valuable document in its bearing on this life. -You remember the mistake you made, I dare say?"</p> - -<p>"I've never forgotten it. It's had something to do with it all," said -Sophy. "That's how you, as well as Lord Dunstanbury, come in at the -beginning as you do at the end."</p> - -<p>"Has it nothing to do with the question now—putting it in any -particular phraseology you like?" In his turn he pointed at the smoky -lantern. "That's not life," he said, growing more earnest, yet smiling. -"That's now—just here and now—and, yes, it's very smoky." He waved his -hand over the darkness. "That's life. Dark? Yes, but the night will -lift, the darkness pass away; valley and sparkling lake will be there, -and the summit of the heaven-kissing hills. Life cries to you with a -sweet voice."</p> - -<p>"Yes," she murmured, "with a sweet voice. And perhaps some day there -would be light on the hills. But, ah, I'm torn in sunder this night. I -wish I had died there at Miklevni while my blood was hot." She paused a -long while in thought. Then she went on: "If I go, I must go while it's -still dark, and while these good people sleep. Go and tell Lord -Dunstanbury to be ready to start an hour before dawn; and do you and he -come then to the door of the church. If I'm not waiting for you there, -come inside and find me."</p> - -<p>He started towards her with an eager gesture of protest. She raised her -hand and checked him.</p> - -<p>"No, I've decided nothing. I can't tell yet," she said. She turned and -left him; he heard her steps descending the old winding stair which led -from the top of the wall down into the street. He did not know whether -he would see her alive again—and with her message of such ambiguous -meaning he went to Dunstanbury. Yet curiously, though he had pleaded so -urgently with her, though to him her death would mean the loss of one of -the beautiful things from out the earth, he was in no distress for her -and did not dream of attempting any constraint. She knew her -strength—she would choose right. If life were tolerable, she would take -up the burden. If not, she would let it lie unlifted at her quiet feet.</p> - -<p>His mood could not be Dunstanbury's, who had come to count her presence -as the light of the life that was his. Yet Dunstanbury heard the message -quietly, and quietly made every preparation in obedience to her bidding. -That done, he sat in the little room of the inn and smoked his pipe with -Basil. Henry Brown waited his word to take the horses to the door of the -church. Basil Williamson had divined his friend's feeling for Sophy, and -wondered at his calmness.</p> - -<p>"If I felt the doubt that you do, I shouldn't be calm," said -Dunstanbury. "But I know her. She will be true to her love."</p> - -<p>He could not be speaking of that love of hers which was finished, whose -end she was now mourning in the little church. It must be of another -love that he spoke—of one bred in her nature, the outcome of her -temperament and of her being the woman that she was. The spirit which -had brought her to Slavna had made her play her part there, had -welcomed and caught at every change and chance of fortune, had never -laid down the sword till the blow was struck—that spirit would preserve -her and give her back to life now—and some day give life back to her.</p> - -<p>He was right. When they came to the door of the church, she was there. -For the first time since Monseigneur had died, her eyes were red with -weeping; but her face was calm. She gave her hand to Dunstanbury.</p> - -<p>"Come, let us mount," she said. "I have said 'Good-bye.'"</p> - -<p>Lukovitch knew Dunstanbury's plans. He was waiting for them at the gate, -his arm in a sling, and with him were the Zerkovitches. These last they -would see again; it was probably farewell forever to gallant Lukovitch. -He kissed the silver ring on Sophy's finger.</p> - -<p>"I brought nothing into Kravonia," she said, "and I carry nothing out, -except this ring which Monseigneur put on my finger—the ring of the -Bailiffs of Volseni."</p> - -<p>"Keep it," said Lukovitch. "I think there will be no more Bailiffs of -Volseni—or some Prince, not of our choosing, will take the title by his -own will. He will not be our Bailiff, as Monseigneur was. You will be -our Bailiff, though our eyes never see you, and you never see our old -gray walls again. Madame, have a kindly place in your heart for Volseni. -We sha'n't forget you nor the blow we struck under your leadership. The -fight at Miklevni may well be the last that we shall fight as free men."</p> - -<p>"Volseni is written on my heart," she answered. "I shall not forget."</p> - -<p>She bade her friends farewell, and then ordered Lukovitch to throw open -the gate. She and the three Englishmen rode through, Henry Brown leading -the pack-horse by the bridle. The mountains were growing gray with the -first approaches of dawn.</p> - -<p>As she rode through, Sophy paused a moment, leaned sideways in her -saddle, and kissed the ancient lintel of the door.</p> - -<p>"Peace be on this place," she said, "and peace to the tomb where -Monseigneur lies buried!"</p> - -<p>"Peace be on thy head and fortune with thee!" answered Lukovitch in the -traditional words of farewell. He kissed her hand again, and they -departed.</p> - -<p>It was high morning when they rode up the ascent to St. Peter's Pass and -came to the spot where their cross-track joined the main road over the -pass from Dobrava and the capital. In silence they mounted to the -summit. The road under their horses' feet was trampled with the march of -the thousands of men who had passed over it in an irresistible advance -on Slavna.</p> - -<p>At the summit of the pass they stopped, and Sophy turned to look back. -She sat there for a long while in silence.</p> - -<p>"I have loved this land," at last she said. "It has given me much, and -very much it has taken away. Now the face of it is to be changed. But in -my heart the memory of it will not change." She looked across the -valley, across the sparkling face of Lake Talti, to the gray walls of -Volseni, and kissed her hand. "Farewell, Monseigneur!" she whispered, -very low.</p> - -<p>The day of Kravonia was done. The head of the great snake had reached -Slavna. Countess Ellenburg and young Alexis were in flight. Stenovics -took orders where he had looked to rule. The death of Monseigneur was -indeed avenged. But there was no place for Sophy, the Queen of a -tempestuous hour.</p> - -<p>They set their horses' heads towards the frontier. They began the -descent on the other side. The lake was gone, the familiar hills -vanished; only in the eye of memory stood old Volseni still set in its -gray mountains. Sophy rode forth from Kravonia in her sheepskins and her -silver ring—the last Queen of Kravonia, the last Bailiff of Volseni, -the last chosen leader of the mountain men. But the memory of the Red -Star lived after her—how she loved Monseigneur and avenged him, how her -face was fairer than the face of other women, and more pale—and how the -Red Star glowed in sorrow and in joy, in love and in clash of arms, -promising to some glory and to others death. In the street of Volseni -and in the cabins among the hills you may hear the tale of the Red Star -yet.</p> - -<p>As she passed the border of the land which was so great in her life, by -a freak of memory Sophy recalled a picture till now forgotten—a woman, -unknown, untraced, unreckoned, who had passed down the Street of the -Fountain, weeping bitterly—an obscure symbol of great woes, of the -tribute life pays to its unresting enemies.</p> - -<p>Yet to the unconquerable heart life stands unconquered. What danger had -not shaken not even sorrow could overthrow. She rode into the future -with Dunstanbury on her right hand—patience in his mind, and in his -heart hope. Some day the sun would shine on the summit of heaven-kissing -hills.</p> - - -<h3>THE END</h3> - -<hr style="width: 45%;" /> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> He is apparently mimicking Sophy's mimicking of his -pronunciation.</p></div> - - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sophy of Kravonia, by Anthony Hope - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOPHY OF KRAVONIA *** - -***** This file should be named 40414-h.htm or 40414-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/4/1/40414/ - -Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Sophy of Kravonia - A Novel - -Author: Anthony Hope - -Release Date: August 5, 2012 [EBook #40414] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOPHY OF KRAVONIA *** - - - - -Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - - - SOPHY OF KRAVONIA - - A Novel - - BY ANTHONY HOPE - - AUTHOR OF "THE PRISONER OF ZENDA," "THE INTRUSIONS OF PEGGY," ETC. - - NEW YORK AND LONDON - HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS - MCMVI - - Copyright, 1905, by ANTHONY HOPE HAWKINS. - - _All rights reserved._ - - Published October, 1906. - - - - - CONTENTS - - - INTRODUCTION v - - - PART I - - MORPINGHAM - - I. ENOCH GROUCH'S DAUGHTER 3 - - II. THE COOK AND THE CATECHISM 10 - - III. BEAUTIFUL JULIA--AND MY LORD 19 - - IV. FATE'S WAY--OR LADY MEG'S 29 - - V. THE VISION OF "SOMETHING BRIGHT" 40 - - - PART II - - PARIS - - I. PHAROS, MANTIS, AND CO. 45 - - II. THE LORD OF YOUTH 55 - - III. THE NOTE--AND NO REASONS 64 - - IV. THE PICTURE AND THE STAR 72 - - - PART III - - KRAVONIA - - I. THE NAME-DAY OF THE KING 79 - - II. AT THE GOLDEN LION 90 - - III. THE VIRGIN WITH THE LAMP 101 - - IV. THE MESSAGE OF THE NIGHT 110 - - V. A QUESTION OF MEMORY 118 - - VI. "IMPOSSIBLE" OR "IMMEDIATE"? 129 - - VII. THE BARONESS GOES TO COURT 139 - - VIII. MONSEIGNEUR'S UNIFORM 149 - - IX. COUNTESS ELLENBURG PRAYS 159 - - X. THE SOUND OF A TRUMPET 169 - - XI. M. ZERKOVITCH'S BEDROOM FIRE 180 - - XII. JOYFUL OF HEART 193 - - XIII. A DELICATE DUTY 203 - - XIV. HIS MAJESTY DIES--TO-MORROW! 216 - - XV. A JOB FOR CAPTAIN HERCULES 225 - - XVI. A FRENCHMAN AND A MATTRESS 235 - - XVII. INGENIOUS COLONEL STAFNITZ 246 - - XVIII. TO THE FAITHFUL CITY 258 - - XIX. THE SILVER RING 267 - - XX. THEY HAVE COLDS IN SLAVNA 280 - - XXI. ON SATURDAY AT MIKLEVNI! 292 - - XXII. JEALOUS OF DEATH 303 - - XXIII. A WOMAN AND A GHOST 313 - - XXIV. TRUE TO HER LOVE 325 - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - -The following narrative falls naturally into three divisions, -corresponding to distinct and clearly marked periods of Sophy's life. Of -the first and second--her childhood at Morpingham and her sojourn in -Paris--the records are fragmentary, and tradition does little to -supplement them. As regards Morpingham, the loss is small. The annals of -a little maid-servant may be left in vagueness without much loss. Enough -remains to show both the manner of child Sophy was and how it fell out -that she spread her wings and left the Essex village far behind her. It -is a different affair when we come to the French period. The years spent -in and near Paris, in the care and under the roof of Lady Margaret -Duddington, were of crucial moment in Sophy's development. They changed -her from what she had been and made her what she was to be. Without -Paris, Kravonia, still extraordinary, would have been impossible. - -Yet the surviving history of Paris and the life there is scanty. Only a -sketch is possible. A record existed--and a fairly full one--in the -Julia Robins correspondence; that we know from Miss Robins herself. But -the letters written from Paris by Sophy to her lifelong friend have, -with some few exceptions, perished. Miss Robins accounts for this--and -in view of her careful preservation of later correspondence, her apology -must be accepted--by the fact that during these years--from 1866 to -1870--she was constantly travelling from town to town and from lodging -to lodging, as a member of various theatrical companies; this nomadic -existence did not promote the careful and methodical storage of her -letters. It may, of course, be added that no such obvious interest -attached to these records as gathered round Sophy's doings after she had -exchanged Paris and the Rue de Grenelle for Slavna and the Castle of -Praslok. - -When this migration has been effected, the historian is on much firmer -ground; he is even embarrassed sometimes by the abundance of material of -varying value. Apart from public records and general memory (both -carefully consulted on the spot), the two main sources flow from Sophy's -own hand. They are the Robins correspondence and the diary. Nearly to -the end the letters are very constant, very full, very instructive; but -they are composed with an obvious view to the tastes and interests of -their recipient, and by no means always devote most space to what now -seems of greatest interest. In one point, however, Miss Robins's tastes -prove of real service. This lady, who rose to a respectable, if not a -high, position as a Shakespearian actress, was much devoted to the study -of costume, and Sophy, aware of this hobby, never omits to tell her with -minute care what she herself wore on every occasion, what the other -ladies wore, and what were the uniforms, military or civil, in which the -men were arrayed. Trivial, perhaps, yet of great value in picturing the -scenes! - -In her letters Sophy is also copious in depicting places, houses, and -landscapes--matters on which the diary is naturally not so full. So -that, in spite of their great faults, the letters form a valuable -supplement to the diary. Yet what faults--nay, what crimes! Sophy had -learned to talk French perfectly and to write it fairly well. She had -not learned to write English well or even decently; the letters are, in -fact, a charnel-house of murdered grammar and broken-backed sentences. -Still there emerge from it all a shrewdness and a rural vigor and -raciness which show that the child of the little Essex farm-house -survived in the writer. - -But for this Kravonian period--the great period--the diary is the thing. -Yet it is one of the most unconscientious diaries ever written. It is -full of gaps; it is often posted up very unpunctually; it is sometimes -exasperatingly obscure--there may be some intention in that; she could -not tell into what hands it might fall. But it covers most of the -ground; it begins almost with Sophy's arrival in Slavna, and the last -entry records her discovery of Lord Dunstanbury's presence in Kravonia. -It is written for the most part in French, and she wrote French, as has -been said, decently--nay, even forcibly, though not with elegance; yet -she frequently relapses into English--often of a very colloquial order: -this happens mostly under the influence of anger or some other strong -emotion. And she is dramatic--that must be allowed to her. She -concentrates her attention on what she conceives (nor is her instinct -far out) to be her great scenes; she gives (or purports to give) a -verbatim report of critical conversations, and it is only just to say -that she allows her interlocutors fair play. She has candor--and that, -working with the dramatic sense in her, forbids her to warp the scene. -In the earlier parts of the story she shows keen appreciation of its -lighter aspects; as times grow graver, her records, too, change in mood, -working up to the tense excitement, the keen struggle, the burning -emotions of her last days in Kravonia. Yet even then she always finds -time for a laugh and a touch of gayety. - -When Sophy herself ceases to be our guide, Lord Dunstanbury's notes -become the main authority. They are supplemented by the recollection of -Mr. Basil Williamson, now practising his profession of surgery in -Australia; and this narrative is also indebted to Colonel Markart, -sometime secretary to General Stenovics, for much important information -which, as emanating from the enemy's camp, was not accessible to Sophy -or her informants. The contributions of other actors in the drama, too -numerous to mention here, will be easily identified in their place in -the story. - -A word seems desirable on one other subject, and no mean one; for it is -certain that Sophy's physical gifts were a powerful ally to her -ambition, her strong will, and her courage; it is certain, too, that she -did not shrink from making the most of this reinforcement to her powers. -All the authorities named above--not excepting Sophy herself--have -plenty to say on the topic, and from their descriptions a portrait of -her may be attempted. Of actual pictures one only exists--in the -possession of the present Lord Dunstanbury, who succeeded his -father--Sophy's Earl--a few years ago. It is a pastel, drawn just before -she left Paris--and, to be frank, it is something of a disappointment; -the taste of the 'sixties is betrayed in a simper which sits on the lips -but is alien to the character of them. Still the outline and the color -are there. - -Her hair was very dark, long, and thick; her nose straight and fine, her -lips firm and a trifle full. Her complexion was ordinarily very pale, -and she did not flush save under considerable agitation of mind or -exertion of body. She was above the middle height, finely formed, and -slender. It was sometimes, indeed, objected that her shape was too -masculine--the shoulders a trifle too square and the hips too small for -a woman. These are, after all, matters of taste; she would not have been -thought amiss in ancient Athens. All witnesses agree in describing her -charm as lying largely in movement, in vivacity, in a sense of -suppressed force trying to break out, or (as Mr. Williamson puts it) of -"tremendous driving power." - -The personality seems to stand out fairly distinct from these -descriptions, and we need the less regret that a second picture, known -to have been painted soon after her arrival in Kravonia, has perished -either through carelessness or (more probably) by deliberate -destruction; there were many in Kravonia not too anxious that even a -counterfeit presentment of the famous "Red Star" and its wearer should -survive. It would carry its memories and its reproach. - -"The Red Star!" The name appears first in a letter of the Paris -period--one of the few which are in existence. Its invention is -attributed by Sophy to her friend the Marquis de Savres (of whom we -shall hear again). He himself used it often. But of the thing we hear -very early--and go on hearing from time to time. Sophy at first calls it -"my mark," but she speedily adopts Monsieur le Marquis's more poetical -term, and by that description it is known throughout her subsequent -career. The polite artist of the 'sixties shirked it altogether by -giving a half-profile view of his subject, thus not showing the left -cheek where the "star" was situated. - -It was, in fact, a small birth-mark, placed just below the cheek-bone, -almost round, yet with a slightly indented outline. No doubt a lover -(and M. de Savres was one) found warrant enough for his phrase. At -ordinary times it was a very pale red in color, but (unlike the rest of -her face) it was very rapidly sensitive to any change of mood or temper; -in moments of excitement the shade deepened greatly, and (as Colonel -Markart says in his hyperbolic strain) "it glowed like angry Venus." -Without going quite that length, we are bound to allow that it was, at -these moments, a conspicuous and striking mark, and such it clearly -appeared to the eyes of all who saw it. "La dame a l'etoile rouge," says -the Marquis. "The Red-starred Witch," said the less courteous and more -hostile citizens and soldiers of Kravonia. Sophy herself appears proud -of it, though she feigns to consider it a blemish. Very probably it was -one of those peculiarities which become so closely associated and -identified with the personality to which they belong as at once to -heighten the love of friends and to attract an increased dislike or -hatred from those already disposed or committed to enmity. At any rate, -for good or evil, it is as "Red Star" that the name of Sophy lives -to-day in the cities and mountains of Kravonia. - -So much in preface; now to the story. Little historical importance can -be claimed for it. But amateurs of the picturesque, if yet there be such -in this business-like world, may care to follow Sophy from Morpingham to -Paris, to share her flight from the doomed city, to be with her in the -Street of the Fountain, at venerable Praslok, on Volseni's crumbling -wall, by the banks of the swift-flowing Krath at dawn of day--to taste -something of the spirit that filled, to feel something of the love that -moved, the heart of Sophy Grouch of Morpingham, in the county of Essex. -Still, sometimes Romance beckons back her ancient votaries. - - - - -SOPHY OF KRAVONIA - - - - -PART I - -MORPINGHAM - - - - -I - -ENOCH GROUCH'S DAUGHTER - - -Grouch! That is the name--and in the interest of euphony it is -impossible not to regret the fact. Some say it should be spelled -"Groutch," which would not at all mend matters, though it makes the -pronunciation clear beyond doubt--the word must rhyme with "crouch" and -"couch." Well might Lady Meg Duddington swear it was the ugliest name -she had ever heard in her life! Sophy was not of a very different -opinion, as will be shown by-and-by. She was Grouch on both -sides--unmixed and unredeemed. For Enoch Grouch married his uncle's -daughter Sally, and begat, as his first child, Sophy. Two other children -were born to him, but they died in early infancy. Mrs. Grouch did not -long survive the death of her little ones; she was herself laid in -Morpingham church-yard when Sophy was no more than five years old. The -child was left to the sole care of her father, a man who had married -late for his class--indeed, late for any class--and was already well on -in middle age. He held a very small farm, lying about half a mile behind -the church. Probably he made a hard living of it, for the only servant -in his household was a slip of a girl of fifteen, who had, presumably, -both to cook and scrub for him and to look after the infant Sophy. -Nothing is remembered of him in Morpingham. Perhaps there was nothing to -remember--nothing that marked him off from thousands like him; perhaps -the story of his death, which lives in the village traditions, blotted -out the inconspicuous record of his laborious life. - -Morpingham lies within twenty-five miles of London, but for all that it -is a sequestered and primitive village. It contained, at this time at -least, but three houses with pretensions to gentility--the Hall, the -Rectory, and a smaller house across the village street, facing the -Rectory. At the end of the street stood the Hall in its grounds. This -was a handsome, red-brick house, set in a spacious garden. Along one -side of the garden there ran a deep ditch, and on the other side of the -ditch, between it and a large meadow, was a path which led to the -church. Thus the church stood behind the Hall grounds; and again, as has -been said, beyond the church was Enoch Grouch's modest farm, held of Mr. -Brownlow, the owner of the Hall. The church path was the favorite resort -of the villagers, and deservedly, for it was shaded and beautified by a -fine double row of old elms, forming a stately avenue to the humble -little house of worship. - -On an autumn evening in the year 1855 Enoch Grouch was returning from -the village, where he had been to buy tobacco. His little girl was with -him. It was wild weather. A gale had been blowing for full twenty-four -hours, and in the previous night a mighty bough had been snapped from -one of the great elms and had fallen with a crash. It lay now right -across the path. As they went to the village, her father had indulged -Sophy with a ride on the bough, and she begged a renewal of the treat on -their homeward journey. The farmer was a kind man--more kind than wise, -as it proved, on this occasion. He set the child astraddle on the thick -end of the bough, then went to the other end, which was much slenderer. -Probably his object was to try to shake the bough and please his small -tyrant with the imitation of a see-saw. The fallen bough suggested no -danger to his slow-moving mind. He leaned down towards the bough with -out-stretched hands--Sophy, no doubt, watching his doings with excited -interest--while the wind raged and revelled among the great branches -over their heads. Enoch tried to move the bough, but failed; in order to -make another effort, he fell on his knees and bent his back over it. - -At this moment there came a loud crash--heard in the Rectory grounds and -in the dining-room at Woodbine Cottage, the small house opposite. - -"There's another tree gone!" cried Basil Williamson, the Rector's second -son, who was giving his retriever an evening run. - -He raced through the Rectory gate, across the road, and into the avenue. - -A second later the garden gate of Woodbine Cottage opened, and Julia, -the ten-years-old daughter of a widow named Robins who lived there, came -out at full speed. Seeing Basil just ahead of her, she called out: "Did -you hear?" - -He knew her voice--they were playmates--and answered without looking -back: "Yes. Isn't it fun? Keep outside the trees--keep well in the -meadow!" - -"Stuff!" she shouted, laughing. "They don't fall every minute, silly!" - -Running as they exchanged these words, they soon came to where the -bough--or, rather, the two boughs--had fallen. A tragic sight met their -eyes. The second bough had caught the unlucky farmer just on the nape of -his neck, and had driven him down, face forward, onto the first. He lay -with his neck close pinned between the two, and his arms spread out over -the undermost. His face was bad to look at; he was quite dead, and -apparently death must have been instantaneous. Sobered and appalled, the -boy and girl stood looking from the terrible sight to each other's -faces. - -"Is he dead?" Julia whispered. - -"I expect so," the boy answered. Neither of them had seen death before. - -The next moment he raised his voice and shouted: "Help, help!" then laid -hold of the upper bough and strove with all his might to raise it. The -girl gave a shriller cry for assistance and then lent a hand to his -efforts. But between them they could not move the great log. - -Up to now neither of them had perceived Sophy. - -Next on the scene was Mr. Brownlow, the master of the Hall. He had been -in his greenhouse and heard the crash of the bough. Of that he took no -heed--nothing could be done save heave a sigh over the damage to his -cherished elms. But when the cries for help reached his ears, with -praiseworthy promptitude he rushed out straight across his lawn, and -(though he was elderly and stout) dropped into the ditch, clambered out -of it, and came where the dead man and the children were. As he passed -the drawing-room windows, he called out to his wife: "Somebody's hurt, -I'm afraid"; and she, after a moment's conference with the butler, -followed her husband, but, not being able to manage the ditch, went -round by the road and up the avenue, the servant coming with her. When -these two arrived, the Squire's help had availed to release the farmer -from the deadly grip of the two boughs, and he lay now on his back on -the path. - -"He's dead, poor fellow," said Mr. Brownlow. - -"It's Enoch Grouch!" said the butler, giving a shudder as he looked at -the farmer's face. Julia Robins sobbed, and the boy Basil looked up at -the Squire's face with grave eyes. - -"I'll get a hurdle, sir," said the butler. His master nodded, and he ran -off. - -Something moved on the path--about a yard from the thick end of the -lower bough. - -"Look there!" cried Julia Robins. A little wail followed. With an -exclamation, Mrs. Brownlow darted to the spot. The child lay there with -a cut on her forehead. Apparently the impact of the second bough had -caused the end of the first to fly upward; Sophy had been jerked from -her seat into the air, and had fallen back on the path, striking her -head on a stone. Mrs. Brownlow picked her up, wiped the blood from her -brow, and saw that the injury was slight. Sophy began to cry softly, and -Mrs. Brownlow soothed her. - -"It's his little girl," said Julia Robins. "The little girl with the -mark on her cheek, please, Mrs. Brownlow." - -"Poor little thing! Poor little thing!" Mrs. Brownlow murmured; she knew -that death had robbed the child of her only relative and protector. - -The butler now came back with a hurdle and two men, and Enoch Grouch's -body was taken into the saddle-room at the Hall. Mrs. Brownlow followed -the procession, Sophy still in her arms. At the end of the avenue she -spoke to the boy and girl: - -"Go home, Basil; tell your father, and ask him to come to the Hall. -Good-night, Julia. Tell your mother--and don't cry any more. The poor -man is with God, and I sha'n't let this mite come to harm." She was a -childless woman, with a motherly heart, and as she spoke she kissed -Sophy's wounded forehead. Then she went into the Hall grounds, and the -boy and girl were left together in the road. Basil shook his fist at the -avenue of elms--his favorite playground. - -"Hang those beastly trees!" he cried. "I'd cut them all down if I was -Mr. Brownlow." - -"I must go and tell mother," said Julia. "And you'd better go, too." - -"Yes," he assented, but lingered for a moment, still looking at the -trees as though reluctantly fascinated by them. - -"Mother always said something would happen to that little girl," said -Julia, with a grave and important look in her eyes. - -"Why?" the boy asked, brusquely. - -"Because of that mark--that mark she's got on her cheek." - -"What rot!" he said, but he looked at his companion uneasily. The event -of the evening had stirred the superstitious fears seldom hard to stir -in children. - -"People don't have those marks for nothing--so mother says." Other -people, no wiser, said the same thing later. - -"Rot!" Basil muttered again. "Oh, well, I must go." - -She glanced at him timidly. "Just come as far as our door with me. I'm -afraid." - -"Afraid!" He smiled scornfully. "All right!" - -He walked with her to the door of Woodbine Cottage, and waited till it -closed behind her, performing the escort with a bold and lordly air. -Left alone in the fast-darkening night, with nobody in sight, with no -sound save the ceaseless voice of the angry wind essaying new mischief -in the tops of the elm-trees, he stood for a moment listening fearfully. -Then he laid his sturdy legs to the ground and fled for home, looking -neither to right nor left till he reached the hospitable light of his -father's study. The lad had been brave in face of the visible horror; -fear struck him in the moment of Julia's talk about the mark on the -child's cheek. Scornful and furious at himself, yet he was mysteriously -afraid. - - - - -II - -THE COOK AND THE CATECHISM - - -Sophy Grouch had gone to lay a bunch of flowers on her father's grave. -From the first Mrs. Brownlow had taught her this pious rite, and Mrs. -Brownlow's deputy, the gardener's wife (in whose cottage Sophy lived), -had seen to its punctual performance every week. Things went by law and -rule at the Hall, for the Squire was a man of active mind and ample -leisure. His household code was a marvel of intricacy and minuteness. -Sophy's coming and staying had developed a multitude of new clauses, -under whose benevolent yet strict operation her youthful mind had been -trained in the way in which Mr. Brownlow was of opinion that it should -go. - -Sophy's face, then, wore a grave and responsible air as she returned -with steps of decorous slowness from the sacred precincts. Yet the outer -manner was automatic--the result of seven years' practice. Within, her -mind was busy: the day was one of mark in her life; she had been told -her destined future, and was wondering how she would like it. - -Her approach was perceived by a tall and pretty girl who lay in the -meadow-grass (and munched a blade of it) which bordered the path under -the elm-trees. - -"What a demure little witch she looks!" laughed Julia Robins, who was -much in the mood for laughter that day, greeting with responsive gleam -of the eyes the sunlight which fell in speckles of radiance through the -leaves above. It was a summer day, and summer was in her heart, too; yet -not for the common cause with young maidens; it was no nonsense about -love-making--lofty ambition was in the case to-day. - -"Sophy Grouch! Sophy Grouch!" she cried, in a high, merry voice. - -Sophy raised her eyes, but her steps did not quicken. With the same -measured paces of her lanky, lean, little legs, she came up to where -Julia lay. - -"Why don't you say just 'Sophy'?" she asked. "I'm the only Sophy in the -village." - -"Sophy Grouch! Sophy Grouch!" Julia repeated, teasingly. - -The mark on Sophy's left cheek grew redder. Julia laughed mockingly. -Sophy looked down on her, still very grave. - -"You do look pretty to-day," she observed--"and happy." - -"Yes, yes! So I tease you, don't I? But I like to see you hang out your -danger-signal." - -She held out her arms to the little girl. Sophy came and kissed her, -then sat down beside her. - -"Forgive?" - -"Yes," said Sophy. "Do you think it's a very awful name?" - -"Oh, you'll change it some day," smiled Julia, speaking more truth than -she knew. "Listen! Mother's consented, consented, consented! I'm to go -and live with Uncle Edward in London--London, Sophy!--and learn -elocution--" - -"Learn what?" - -"E-lo-cu-tion--which means how to talk so that people can hear you ever -so far off--" - -"To shout?" - -"No. Don't be stupid. To--to be heard plainly without shouting. To be -heard in a theatre! Did you ever see a theatre?" - -"No. Only a circus. I haven't seen much." - -"And then--the stage! I'm to be an actress! Fancy mother consenting at -last! An actress instead of a governess! Isn't it glorious?" She paused -a moment, then added, with a self-conscious laugh: "Basil's awfully -angry, though." - -"Why should he be angry?" asked Sophy. Her own anger was gone; she was -plucking daisies and sticking them here and there in her friend's golden -hair. They were great friends, this pair, and Sophy was very proud of -the friendship. Julia was grown up, the beauty of the village, and--a -lady! Now Sophy was by no means any one of these things. - -"Oh, you wouldn't understand," laughed Julia, with a blush. - -"Does he want to keep company with you--and won't you do it?" - -"Only servants keep company, Sophy." - -"Oh!" said Sophy, obviously making a mental note of the information. - -"But he's very silly about it. I've just said 'Good-bye,' to him--you -know he goes up to Cambridge to-morrow?--and he did say a lot of silly -things." She suddenly caught hold of Sophy and kissed her half a dozen -times. "It's a wonderful thing that's happened. I'm so tremendously -happy!" She set her little friend free with a last kiss and a playful -pinch. - -Neither caress nor pinch disturbed Sophy's composure. She sat down on -the grass. - -"Something's happened to me, too, to-day," she announced. - -"Has it, Tots? What is it?" asked Julia, smiling indulgently; the great -events in other lives are thus sufficiently acknowledged. - -"I've left school, and I'm going to leave Mrs. James's and go and live -at the Hall, and be taught to help cook; and when I'm grown up I'm going -to be cook." She spoke slowly and weightily, her eyes fixed on Julia's -face. - -"Well, I call it a shame!" cried Julia, in generous indignation. "Oh, of -course it would be all right if they'd treated you properly--I mean, as -if they'd meant that from the beginning. But they haven't. You've lived -with Mrs. James, I know; but you've been in and out of the Hall all the -time, having tea in the drawing-room, and fruit at dessert, and--and so -on. And you look like a little lady, and talk like one--almost. I think -it's a shame not to give you a better chance. Cook!" - -"Don't you think it might be rather nice to be a cook--a good cook?" - -"No, I don't," answered the budding Mrs. Siddons, decisively. - -"People always talk a great deal about the cook," pleaded Sophy. "Mr. -and Mrs. Brownlow are always talking about the cook--and the Rector -talks about his cook, too--not always very kindly, though." - -"No, it's a shame--and I don't believe it'll happen." - -"Yes, it will. Mrs. Brownlow settled it to-day." - -"There are other people in the world besides Mrs. Brownlow." - -Sophy was not exactly surprised at this dictum, but evidently it gave -her thought. Her long-delayed "Yes" showed that as plainly as her "Oh" -had, a little while before, marked her appreciation of the social -limits of "keeping company." "But she can settle it all the same," she -persisted. - -"For the time she can," Julia admitted. "Oh, I wonder what'll be my -first part, Tots!" She threw her pretty head back on the grass, closing -her eyes; a smile of radiant anticipation hovered about her lips. The -little girl rose and stood looking at her friend--the friend of whom she -was so proud. - -"You'll look very, very pretty," she said, with sober gravity. - -Julia's smile broadened, but her lips remained shut. Sophy looked at her -for a moment longer, and, without formal farewell, resumed her progress -down the avenue. It was hard on tea-time, and Mrs. James was a stickler -for punctuality. - -Yet Sophy's march was interrupted once more. A tall young man sat -swinging his legs on the gate that led from the avenue into the road. -The sturdy boy who had run home in terror on the night Enoch Grouch died -had grown into a tall, good-looking young fellow; he was clad in what is -nowadays called a "blazer" and check-trousers, and smoked a large -meerschaum pipe. His expression was gloomy; the gate was shut--and he -was on the top of it. Sophy approached him with some signs of -nervousness. When he saw her, he glared at her moodily. - -"You can't come through," he said, firmly. - -"Please, Mr. Basil, I must, I shall be late for tea." - -"I won't let you through. There!" - -Sophy looked despairful. "May I climb over?" - -"No," said Basil, firmly; but a smile began to twitch about his lips. - -Quick now, as ever, to see the joint in a man's armor, Sophy smiled too. - -"If you'd let me through, I'd give you a kiss," she said, offering the -only thing she had to give in all the world. - -"You would, would you? But I hate kisses. In fact, I hate girls all -round--big and little." - -"You don't hate Julia, do you?" - -"Yes, worst of all." - -"Oh!" said Sophy--once more the recording, registering "Oh!"--because -Julia had given quite another impression, and Sophy sought to reconcile -these opposites. - -The young man jumped down from the gate, with a healthy laugh at himself -and at her, caught her up in his arms, and gave her a smacking kiss. - -"That's toll," he said. "Now you can go through, missy." - -"Thank you, Mr. Basil. It's not very hard to get through, is it?" - -He set her down with a laugh, a laugh with a note of surprise in it; her -last words had sounded odd from a child. But Sophy's eyes were quite -grave; she was probably recording the practical value of a kiss. - -"You shall tell me whether you think the same about that in a few years' -time," he said, laughing again. - -"When I'm grown up?" she asked, with a slow, puzzled smile. - -"Perhaps," said he, assuming gravity anew. - -"And cook?" she asked, with a curiously interrogative air--anxious -apparently to see what he, in his turn, would think of her destiny. - -"Cook? You're going to be a cook?" - -"The cook," she amended. "The cook at the Hall." - -"I'll come and eat your dinners." He laughed, yet looked a trifle -compassionate. Sophy's quick eyes tracked his feelings. - -"You don't think it's nice to be a cook, either?" she asked. - -"Oh yes, splendid! The cook's a sort of queen," said he. - -"The cook a sort of queen? Is she?" Sophy's eyes were profoundly -thoughtful. - -"And I should be very proud to kiss a queen--a sort of queen. Because I -shall be only a poor sawbones." - -"Sawbones?" - -"A surgeon--a doctor, you know--with a red lamp, like Dr. Seaton at -Brentwood." - -She looked at him for a moment. "Are you really going away?" she asked, -abruptly. - -"Yes, for a bit--to-morrow." - -Sophy's manner expanded into a calm graciousness. "I'm very sorry," she -said. - -"Thank you." - -"You amuse me." - -"The deuce I do!" laughed Basil Williamson. - -She raised her eyes slowly to his. "You'll be friends, anyhow, won't -you?" - -"To cook or queen," he said--and heartiness shone through his raillery. - -Sophy nodded her head gravely, sealing the bargain. A bargain it was. - -"Now I must go and have tea, and then say my catechism," said she. - -The young fellow--his thoughts were sad--wanted the child to linger. - -"Learning your catechism? Where have you got to?" - -"I've got to say my 'Duty towards my Neighbor' to Mrs. James after tea." - -"Your 'Duty towards your Neighbor'--that's rather difficult, isn't it?" - -"It's very long," said Sophy, resignedly. - -"Do you know it?" - -"I think so. Oh, Mr. Basil, would you mind hearing me? Because if I can -say it to you, I can say it to her, you know." - -"All right, fire away." - -A sudden doubt smote Sophy. "But do you know it yourself?" she asked. - -"Yes, rather, I know it." - -She would not take his word. "Then you say the first half, and I'll say -the second." - -He humored her--it was hard not to--she looked so small and seemed so -capable. He began--and tripped for a moment over "'To love, honor, and -succor my father and mother.'" The child had no chance there. But -Sophy's eyes were calm. He ended, "'teachers, spiritual pastors, and -masters.' Now go on," he said. - -"'To order myself lowly and reverently to all my betters; to hurt nobody -by word nor deed; to be true and just in all my dealing; to bear no -malice nor hatred in my heart; to keep my hands from picking and -stealing, and my tongue from evil-speaking, lying, and slandering; to -keep my body in temperance, soberness, and chastity [the young man -smiled for an instant--that sounded pathetic]; not to covet nor desire -other men's goods, but to learn and labor truly to get mine own living -and to do my duty in that state of life unto which it has pleased God to -call me.'" - -"Wrong!" said Basil. "Go down two!" - -"Wrong?" she cried, indignantly disbelieving. - -"Wrong!" - -"It's not! That's what Mrs. James taught me." - -"Perhaps--it's not in the prayer-book. Go and look." - -"You tell me first!" - -"'And to do my duty in that state of life unto which it shall please God -to call me.'" His eyes were set on her with an amused interest. - -She stood silent for a moment. "Sure?" she asked then. - -"Positive," said he. - -"Oh!" said Sophy, for the third time. She stood there a moment longer. -Then she smiled at him. "I shall go and look. Good-bye." - -Basil broke into a laugh. "Good-bye, missy," he said. "You'll find I'm -right." - -"If I do, I'll tell you," she answered him, generously, as she turned -away. - -His smile lasted while he watched her. When she was gone his grievance -revived, his gloom returned. He trudged home with never a glance back at -the avenue where Julia was. Yet even now the thought of the child -crossed his mind; that funny mark of hers had turned redder when he -corrected her rendering of the catechism. - -Sophy walked into Mrs. James's kitchen. "Please may I read through my -'Duty' before I say it?" she asked. - -Permission accorded with some surprise--for hitherto the teaching had -been by word of mouth--she got the prayer-book down from its shelf and -conned her lesson. After tea she repeated it correctly. Mrs. James -noticed no difference. - - - - -III - -BEAUTIFUL JULIA--AND MY LORD - - -"It seemed somehow impossible, me going to be cook there all my days." -So writes Sophy at a later date in regard to her life at Morpingham -Hall. To many of us in our youth it has seemed impossible that we should -pass all our days in the humdrum occupations and the mediocre positions -in which we have in fact spent them. Young ambitions are chronicled only -when they have been fulfilled--unless where a born autobiographer makes -fame out of his failures. But Sophy had a double portion of original -restlessness--this much the records of Morpingham years, scanty as they -are, render plain. Circumstances made much play with her, but she was -never merely the sport of chance or of circumstances. She was always -waiting, even always expecting, ready to take her chance, with arm -out-stretched to seize Occasion by the forelock. She co-operated eagerly -with Fate and made herself a partner with Opportunity, and she was quick -to blame the other members of the firm for any lack of activity or -forwardness. "You can't catch the train unless you're at the -station--and take care your watch isn't slow," she writes somewhere in -the diary. The moral of the reflection is as obvious as its form; it is -obvious, too, that a traveller so scrupulous to be in time would suffer -proportionate annoyance if the train were late. - -The immediate result of this disposition of hers was unhappy, and it is -not hard to sympathize with the feelings of the Brownlows. Their -benevolence was ample, but it was not unconscious; their benefits, which -were very great, appeared to them exhaustive, not only above what Sophy -might expect, but also beyond what she could imagine. They had picked -her up from the road-side and set her on the way to that sort of kingdom -with the prospect of which Basil Williamson had tried to console her. -The Squire was an estimable man, but one of small mind; he moved among -the little--the contented lord of a pin-point of the earth. Mrs. -Brownlow was a profoundly pious woman, to whom content was a high duty, -to be won by the performance of other duties. If the Squire detected in -the girl signs of ingratitude to himself, his wife laid equal blame on a -rebellion against Heaven. Sophy knew--if not then, yet on looking -back--what they felt; her references to them are charged with a remorse -whose playful expression (obstinately touched with scorn as it is) does -not hide its sincerity. She soon perceived, anyhow, that she was getting -a bad character; she, the cook _in posse_, was at open war with Mrs. -Smilker, the cook _in esse_; though, to be sure, "Smilker" might have -done something to reconcile her to "Grouch!" - -Mrs. Brownlow naturally ranged herself on the side of constituted -authority, of the superior rank in the domestic hierarchy. Moreover, it -is likely that Mrs. Smilker was right in nine cases out of ten, at all -events; Sophy recognized that probability in after-life; none the less, -she allows herself more than once to speak of "that beast of a Smilker." -Mere rectitude as such never appealed to her; that comes out in another -rather instructive comment, which she makes on Mrs. Brownlow herself, -"Me being what I was, and she what she was, though I was grateful to -her, and always shall be, I couldn't love her; and what hit me hardest -was that she didn't wonder at it, and, in my opinion, wasn't very sorry -either--not in her heart, you know. Me not loving her made what she was -doing for me all the finer, you see." - -Perhaps these flashes of insight should not be turned on our -benefactors, but the extract serves to show another side of Sophy--one -which in fairness to her must not be ignored. Not only was restlessness -unsatisfied, and young ambitions starved; the emotions were not fed -either, or at least were presented with a diet too homely for Sophy's -taste. For the greater part of this time she had no friends outside the -Hall to turn to. Julia Robins was pursuing her training in London, and, -later, her profession in the country. Basil Williamson, who "amused" -her, was at Cambridge, and afterwards at his hospital; a glimpse of him -she may have caught now and then, but they had no further talk. Very -probably he sought no opportunity; Sophy had passed from the infants' -school to the scullery; she had grown from a child into a big girl. If -prudent Basil kept these transformations in view, none can blame him--he -was the son of the Rector of the parish. So, when bidden to the Hall, he -ate the potatoes Sophy had peeled, but recked no more of the hand that -peeled them. In the main the child was, no doubt, a solitary creature. - -So much is what scientific men and historians call "reconstruction"--a -hazardous process--at least when you are dealing with human beings. It -has been kept within the strict limits of legitimate inference, and -accordingly yields meagre results. The return of Julia Robins enables us -to put many more of the stones--or bones, or whatever they may be -called--in their appropriate places. - -It is the summer of 1865--and Julia is very gorgeous. Three years had -passed over her head; her training had been completed a twelvemonth -before, and she had been on her first tour. She had come home "to -rest"--and to look out for a new engagement. She wore a blue hat with a -white feather, a blue skirt, and a red "Garibaldi" shirt; her fair hair -was dressed in the latest fashion. The sensation she made in Morpingham -needs no record. But her head was not turned; nobody was ever less of a -snob than Julia Robins, no friendship ever more independent of the ups -and downs of life, on one side or the other, than that which united her -and Sophy Grouch. She opened communications with the Hall scullery -immediately. And--"Sophy was as much of a darling as ever"--is her -warm-hearted verdict. - -The Hall was not accessible to Julia, nor Woodbine Lodge to Mrs. -Brownlow's little cook-girl. But the Squire's coachman had been at the -station when Julia's train came in: her arrival would be known in the -Hall kitchen, if not up-stairs. On the morrow she went into the avenue -of old elms about twelve o'clock, conjecturing that her friend might -have a few free moments about that hour--an oasis between the labors of -the morning and the claims of luncheon. Standing there under the trees -in all her finery--not very expensive finery, no doubt, yet fresh and -indisputably gay--she called her old mocking challenge--"Sophy Grouch! -Sophy Grouch!" - -Sophy was watching. Her head rose from the other side of the ditch. She -was down in a moment, up again, and in her friend's arms. "It's like a -puff of fresh air," she whispered, as she kissed her, and then, drawing -away, looked her over. Sophy was tall beyond her years, and her head was -nearly on a level with Julia's. She was in her short print gown, with -her kitchen apron on; her sleeves rolled up, her face red from the fire, -her hands too, no doubt, red from washing vegetables and dishes. "She -looked like Cinderella in the first act of a pantomime," is Miss -Robins's professional comment--colored, perhaps, also by subsequent -events. - -"You're beautiful!" cried Sophy. "Oh, that shirt--I love red!" And so on -for some time, no doubt. "Tell me about it; tell me everything about -it," she urged. "It's the next best thing, you know." - -Miss Robins recounted her adventures: they would not seem very dazzling -at this distance. Sophy heard them with ardent eyes; they availed to -color the mark on her cheek to a rosy tint. "That's being alive," she -said, with a deep-drawn sigh. - -Julia patted her hand consolingly. "But I'm twenty!" she reminded her -friend. "Think how young you are!" - -"Young or old's much the same in the kitchen," Sophy grumbled. - -Linking arms, they walked up the avenue. The Rector was approaching from -the church. Sophy tried to draw her arm away. Julia held it tight. The -Rector came up, lifted his hat--and, maybe, his brows. But he stopped -and said a few pleasant words to Julia. He had never pretended to -approve of this stage career, but Julia had now passed beyond his -jurisdiction. He was courteous to her as to any lady. Official position -betrayed itself only as he was taking leave--and only in regard to Sophy -Grouch. - -"Ah, you keep up old friendships," he said--with a rather forced -approval. "Please don't unsettle the little one's mind, though. She has -to work--haven't you, Sophy? Good-bye, Miss Robins." - -Sophy's mark was ruddy indeed as the Rector went on his blameless way, -and Julia was squeezing her friend's arm very hard. But Sophy said -nothing, except to murmur--just once--"The little one!" Julia smiled at -the tone. - -They turned and walked back towards the road. Now silence reigned; Julia -was understanding, pitying, wondering whether a little reasonable -remonstrance would be accepted by her fiery and very unreasonable little -friend; scullery-maids must not arraign social institutions nor quarrel -with the way of the world. But she decided to say nothing--the mark -still glowed. It was to glow more before that day was out. - -They came near to the gates. Julia felt a sudden pressure on her arm. - -"Look!" whispered Sophy, her eyes lighting up again in interest. - -A young man rode up the approach to the Hall lodge. His mare was a -beauty; he sat her well. He was perfectly dressed for the exercise. His -features were clear-cut and handsome. There was as fine an air of -breeding about him as about the splendid Newfoundland dog which ran -behind him. - -Julia looked as she was bidden. "He's handsome," she said. "Why--" she -laughed low--"I believe I know who it is--I think I've seen him -somewhere." - -"Have you?" Sophy's question was breathless. - -"Yes, I know! When we were at York! He was one of the officers there; he -was in a box. Sophy, it's the Earl of Dunstanbury!" - -Sophy did not speak. She looked. The young man--he could be hardly more -than twenty--came on. Sophy suddenly hid behind her friend ("To save my -pride, not her own," generous Julia explains--Sophy herself advances no -such excuse), but she could see. She saw the rider's eye rest on Julia; -did it rest in recognition? It almost seemed so; yet there was doubt. -Julia blushed, but she forbore from smiling or from seeking to rouse his -memory. Yet she was proud if he remembered her face from across the -footlights. The young man, too--being but a young man--blushed a little -as he gave the pretty girl by the gate such a glance as discreetly told -her that he was of the same mind as herself about her looks. These -silent interchanges of opinion on such matters are pleasant diversions -as one plods the highway. - -He was gone. Julia sighed in satisfied vanity. Sophy awoke to stern -realities. - -"Gracious!" she cried. "He must have come to lunch! They'll want a -salad! You'll be here to-morrow--do!" And she was off, up the drive, and -round to her own regions at the back of the house. - -"I believe his Lordship did remember my face," thought Julia as she -wandered back to Woodbine Cottage. - -But Sophy washed lettuces in her scullery--which, save for its base -purposes, was a pleasant, airy apartment, looking out on a path that ran -between yew hedges and led round from the lawn to the offices of the -house. Diligently she washed, as Mrs. Smilker had taught her (whether -rightly or not is nothing to the purpose here), but how many miles away -was her mind? So far away from lettuces that it seemed in no way strange -to look up and see Lord Dunstanbury and his dog on the path outside the -window at which she had been performing her task. He began hastily: - -"Oh, I say, I've been seeing my mare get her feed, and--er--do you think -you could be so good as to find a bone and some water for Lorenzo?" - -"Lorenzo?" she said. - -"My dog, you know." He pointed to the handsome beast, which wagged an -expectant tail. - -"Why do you call him that?" - -Dunstanbury smiled. "Because he's magnificent. I dare say you never -heard of Lorenzo the Magnificent?" - -"No. Who was he?" - -"A Duke--Duke of Florence--in Italy." He had begun to watch her face, -and seemed not impatient for the bone. - -"Florence? Italy?" The lettuce dropped from her hands; she wiped her -hands slowly on her apron. - -"Do you think you could get me one?" - -"Yes, I'll get it." - -She went to the back of the room and chose a bone. - -"Will this do?" she asked, holding it out through the window. - -"Too much meat." - -"Oh!" She went and got another. "This one all right?" - -"Capital! Do you mind if I stay and see him eat it?" - -"No." - -"Here, Lorenzo! And thank the lady!" - -Lorenzo directed three sharp barks at Sophy and fell to. Sophy filled -and brought out a bowl of water. Lord Dunstanbury had lighted a cigar. -But he was watching Sophy. A new light broke on him suddenly. - -"I say, were you the other girl behind the gate?" - -"I didn't mean you to see me." - -"I only caught a glimpse of you. I remember your friend, though." - -"She remembered you, too." - -"I don't know her name, though." - -"Julia Robins." - -"Ah, yes--is it? He's about polished off that bone, hasn't he? Is -she--er--a great friend of yours?" - -His manner was perhaps a little at fault; the slightest note of chaff -had crept into it; and the slightest was enough to put Sophy's quills -up. - -"Why not?" she asked. - -"Why not? Every reason why she should be," he answered with his lips. -His eyes answered more, but he refrained his tongue. He was scrupulously -a gentleman--more so perhaps than, had sexes and places been reversed, -Sophy herself would have been. But his eyes told her. "Only," he went -on, "if so, why did you hide?" - -That bit of chaff did not anger Sophy. But it went home to a different -purpose--far deeper, far truer home than the young man had meant. Not -the mark only reddened--even the cheeks flushed. She said no word. With -a fling-out of her arms--a gesture strangely, prophetically foreign as -it seemed to him in after-days--she exhibited herself--the print frock, -the soiled apron, the bare arms, red hands, the ugly knot of her hair, -the scrap of cap she wore. For a moment her lips quivered, while the -mark--the Red Star of future days and future fame--grew redder still. - -The only sound was of Lorenzo's worrying the last tough scrap of bone. -The lad, gentleman as he was, was good flesh and blood, too--and the -blood was moving. He felt a little tightness in his throat; he was new -to it. New, too, was Sophy Grouch to what his eyes said to her, but she -took it with head erect and a glance steadily levelled at his. - -"Yes," he said. "But I shouldn't have looked at any of that--and I -shouldn't have looked at her either." - -Brightly the mark glowed; subtly the eyes glowed. There was silence -again. - -Almost a start marked Dunstanbury's awakening. "Come, Lorenzo!" he -cried; he raised his hat and turned away, followed by his dog, Lorenzo -the Magnificent. - -Sophy took up her lettuces and carried them into the kitchen. - -"There you are, at last! And what's put you in a temper now?" asked Mrs. -Smilker. She had learned the signs of the mark. - -Sophy smiled. "It's not temper this time, Mrs. Smilker. I--I'm very -happy to-day," she said. "Oh, I do hope the salad will be good!" - -For he who was to eat of the salad--had he not forgotten print frock and -soiled apron, bare arms, red hands, ugly knot, and execrable cap? He -would not have looked at them--no, nor at beautiful many-tinted Julia -Robins in her pride! He had forgotten all these to look at the stained -cheek and the eyes of subtle glow. She had glanced in the mirror of love -and sipped from the cup of power. - -Such was her first meeting with Lord Dunstanbury. If it were ever -forgotten, it was not Dunstanbury who forgot. - -The day had wrought much in her eyes; it had wrought more than she -dreamed of. Her foot was near the ladder now, though she could not yet -see the lowest rung. - - - - -IV - -FATE'S WAY--OR LADY MEG'S - - -The scene is at Hazleby, Lord Dunstanbury's Essex seat. His lordship is -striking the top off his breakfast egg. - -"I say, Cousin Meg, old Brownlow's got a deuced pretty kitchen-maid." - -"There you go! There you go! Just like your father, and your -grandfather, and all of them! If the English people had any spirit, -they'd have swept the Dunstanburys and all the wicked Whig gang into the -sea long ago." - -"Before you could turn round they'd have bought it up, enclosed it, and -won an election by opening it to ships at a small fee on Sundays," said -Mr. Pindar. - -"Why are Whigs worse than Tories?" inquired Mr. Pikes, with an air of -patient inquiry. - -"The will of Heaven, I suppose," sniffed Lady Margaret Duddington. - -"To display Divine Omnipotence in that line," suggested Mr. Pindar. - -"A deuced pretty girl!" said Dunstanbury, in reflective tones. He was -doing his best to reproduce the impression he had received at Morpingham -Hall, but obviously with no great success. - -"On some pretext, frivolous though it be, let us drive over and see this -miracle," Pindar suggested. - -"How could we better employ this last day of our visit? You'll drive us -over, Percival?" - -"No, thank you, Mr. Pindar," said the young man, resolute in wisdom. -"I'll send you over, if you like." - -"I'll come with you," said Pikes. "But how account for ourselves? Old -Brownlow is unknown to us." - -"If Percival had been going, I'd have had nothing to do with it, but I -don't mind taking you two old sillies," said Lady Margaret. "I wanted to -pay a call on Elizabeth Brownlow anyhow. We were at school together -once. But I won't guarantee you a sight of the kitchen-maid." - -"It's a pretty drive--for this part of the country," observed -Dunstanbury. - -"It may well become your favorite road," smiled Mr. Pindar, -benevolently. - -"And since Lady Meg goes with us, it's already ours," added Mr. Pikes, -gallantly. - -So they used to go on--for hours at a time, as Dunstanbury has -declared--both at Hazleby when they were there, and at Lady Meg's house -in Berkeley Square, where they almost always were. They were pleased to -consider themselves politicians--Pikes a Whig, twenty years behind date, -Pindar a Tory, two hundred. It was all an affectation--assumed for the -purpose, but with the very doubtful result of amusing Lady Meg. To -Dunstanbury the two old waifs--for waifs of the sea of society they -were, for all that each had a sufficient income to his name and a -reputable life behind him--were sheerly tiresome--and there seems little -ground to differ from his opinion. But they were old family friends, and -he endured with his usual graciousness. - -Their patroness--they would hardly have gibed at the word--was a more -notable person. Lady Meg--the world generally, and Sophy always, spoke -of her by that style, and we may take the same liberty--was only child -of the great Earl of Dunstanbury. The title and estates passed to his -grandnephew, but half a million or so of money came to her. She took the -money, but vowed, with an outspoken thankfulness, that from the -Dunstanbury family she had taken nothing else. If the boast were true, -there must have been a powerful strain of eccentricity and perversity -derived from elsewhere. All the Dunstanbury blood was Whig; Lady Meg -counted the country ruined in 1688. Even Dunstanbury had been a man of -sensibility; Lady Meg declared war on emotion--especially on the -greatest of all emotions. The Dunstanbury attitude in thought had always -been free, even tending to the materialistic; Lady Meg would believe in -anything--so long as she couldn't see it. A queer woman, choosing to go -to war with the world and infinitely enjoying the gratuitous conflict -which she had herself provoked! With half a million pounds and the -Duddington blood one can afford these recondite luxuries--and to have a -Pindar and a Pikes before whom to exhibit their rare flavor. She was -aggressive, capricious, hard to live with. Fancies instead of purposes, -whims instead of interests, and not, as it seems, much affection for -anybody--she makes rather a melancholy picture; but in her time she made -a bit of a figure, too. - -The air of the household was stormy that day at Morpingham--an incentive -to the expedition, not a deterrent, for Lady Meg, had she known it. -Sophy was in sore disgrace--accused, tried, and convicted of -insubordination and unseemly demeanor towards Mrs. Smilker. The truth -seems to be that this good woman (Rest her soul! She has a neat -tombstone in Morpingham church-yard) loved--like many another good -creature--good ale sometimes a trifle too well; and the orders she gave -when ale had been plentiful did not always consort with her less-mellow -injunctions. In no vulgar directness, but with a sarcasm which Mrs. -Smilker felt without understanding, Sophy would point out these -inconsistencies. Angered and humiliated, fearful too, perhaps, that her -subordinate would let the secret out, Mrs. Smilker made haste to have -the first word with the powers; and against the word of the cook the -word of the cook-maid weighed as naught. After smaller troubles of this -origin there had come a sort of crisis to-day. The longest of long -lectures had been read to Sophy by mistress and repeated (slightly -condensed) by master; then she was sent away to think it over; an abject -apology to outraged Mrs. Smilker must be forthcoming, or banishment was -the decree. Informed of this ultimatum, Sophy went out and hung about -the avenue, hoping for Julia to appear. Soon Julia came and heard the -story. She had indignation in readiness, and--what was more to the -purpose--a plan. Soon Sophy's eyes grew bright. - -Into this storm-tossed house came Lady Meg and her spaniels. This unkind -name, derived at first from the size and shape of Mr. Pindar's ears -(they were large, and hung over at the top), had been stretched to -include Mr. Pikes also, with small loss of propriety. Both gentlemen -were low of stature, plump of figure, hairy on the face; both followed -obediently at the heels of commanding Lady Meg. The amenities of the -luncheon-table opened hearts. Very soon the tale of Sophy's iniquities -was revealed; incidentally, and unavoidably if Sophy's heinous fault -were to appear in its true measure, the tally of the Brownlows' -benevolence was reckoned. But Mrs. Brownlow won small comfort from Lady -Meg: she got a stiff touch of the truth. - -"Ran in and out of the drawing-room!" she said. "Did she? The truth is, -Lizzie, you've spoiled her, and now you're angry with her for being -spoiled." - -"What is she now, Mrs. Brownlow?" asked Pindar, with a sly intention. -Was this Percival's deuced pretty girl? - -"She works in the kitchen, Mr. Pindar." - -"The girl!" his eyes signalled to Mr. Pikes. "Let Lady Meg see her," he -urged, insinuatingly. "She has a wonderful way with girls." - -"I don't want to see her; and I know your game, Pindar," said Lady Meg. - -"I'm afraid she must go," sighed Mrs. Brownlow. Her husband said, more -robustly, that such an event would be a good riddance--a saying -repeated, with the rest of the conversation, by the butler (one William -Byles, still living) to the gratified ears of Mrs. Smilker in the -kitchen. - -"But I'm not easy about her future. She's an odd child, and looks it." - -"Pretty?" This from Mr. Pindar. - -"Well, I don't know. Striking-looking, you'd rather say, perhaps, Mr. -Pindar." - -"Let her go her own way. We've talked quite enough about her." Lady Meg -sounded decisive--and not a little bored. - -"And then"--Mrs. Brownlow made bold to go on for a moment--"such a funny -mark! Many people wouldn't like it, I'm sure." - -Lady Meg turned sharply on her. "Mark? What do you mean? What mark?" - -"A mark on her face, you know. A round, red mark--" - -"Big as a threepenny bit, pretty nearly," said the Squire. - -"Where?" - -"On her cheek." - -"Where is the girl?" asked Lady Meg. Her whole demeanor had changed, her -bored air had vanished. "She seemed fair excited," Mr. Byles reports. -Then she turned to the said Byles: "Find out where that girl is, and let -me know. Don't tell her anything about it. I'll go to her." - -"But let me send for her--" began the Squire, courteously. - -"No, give me my own way. I don't want her frightened." - -The Squire gave the orders she desired, and the last Mr. Byles heard as -he left the room was from Lady Meg: - -"Marks like that always mean something--eh, Pindar?" - -No doubt Mr. Pindar agreed, but his reply is lost. - -The girls in the avenue had made their plan. Sophy would not bow her -head to Mrs. Smilker, nor longer eat the bread of benevolence embittered -by servitude. She would go with Julia; she, too, would tread the -boards--if only she could get her feet on them; and when did any girl -seriously doubt her ability to do that? The pair were gay and laughing, -when suddenly through the gate came Lady Meg and the spaniels--Lady Meg -ahead as usual, and with a purposeful air. - -"Who are they?" cried Sophy. - -Hazleby is but twelve miles from Morpingham. Julia had been over to see -the big house, and had sighted Lady Meg in the garden. - -"It's Lady Margaret Duddington," she whispered, rather in a fright. -There was time for no more. Lady Meg was upon them. Sophy was identified -by her dress, and, to Lady Meg's devouring eyes, by the mark. - -"You're the girl who's been behaving so badly?" she said. - -Seeing no profit in arguing the merits, Sophy answered "Yes." - -At this point Julia observed one old gentleman nudge the other and -whisper something; it is morally certain that Pindar whispered to Pikes: -"Percival's girl!" - -"You seem to like your own way. What are you going to do? Say you're -sorry?" - -"No. I'm not sorry. I'm going away." - -"Come here, girl, let me look at you." - -Sophy obeyed, walking up to Lady Meg and fixing her eyes on her face. -She was interested, not frightened, as it seemed. Lady Meg looked long -at her. - -"Going away? Where to?" - -Julia spoke up. "She's coming with me, please, Lady Margaret." Julia, it -would seem, was a little frightened. - -"Who are you?" - -"Julia Robins. My mother lives there." She pointed to Woodbine Cottage. -"I--I'm on the stage--" - -"Lord help you!" remarked Lady Meg, disconcertingly. - -"Not at all!" protested Julia, her meaning plain, her expression of it -faulty. "And I--I'm going to help her to--to get an engagement. We're -friends." - -"What's she going to do with that on the stage?" Lady Meg's forefinger -almost touched the mark. - -"Oh, that's all right, Lady Margaret. Just a little cold cream and -powder--" - -"Nasty stuff!" said Lady Meg. - -A pause followed, Lady Meg still studying Sophy's face. Then, without -turning round, she made a remark obviously addressed to the gentlemen -behind her: - -"I expect this is Percival's young person." - -"Without a doubt," said Pikes. - -"And Percival was right about her, too," said Pindar. - -"Think so? I ain't sure yet," said Lady Meg. "And at any rate I don't -care twopence about that. But--" A long pause marked a renewed scrutiny. -"Your name's Sophy, isn't it?" - -"Yes." Sophy hesitated, then forced out the words: "Sophy Grouch." - -"Grouch?" - -"I said Grouch." - -"Humph! Well, Sophy, don't go on the stage. It's a poor affair, the -stage, begging Miss Julia's pardon--I'm sure she'll do admirably at it. -But a poor affair it is. There's not much to be said for the real -thing--but it's a deal better than the stage, Sophy." - -"The real thing?" Julia saw Sophy's eyes grow thoughtful. - -"The world--places--London--Paris--men and women--Lord help them! Come -with me, and I'll show you all that." - -"What shall I do if I come with you?" - -"Do? Eat and drink, and waste time and money, like the rest of us. Eh, -Pindar?" - -"Of course," said Mr. Pindar, with a placid smile. - -"I sha'n't be a--a servant again?" - -"Everybody in my house is a slave, I'm told, but you won't be more of a -slave than the rest." - -"Will you have me taught?" - -Lady Meg looked hard at her. For the first time she smiled, rather -grimly. "Yes, I'll have you taught, and I'll show you the Queen of -England, and, if you behave yourself, the Emperor of the French--Lord -help him!" - -"Not unless she behaves herself!" murmured Mr. Pindar. - -"Hold your tongue, Pindar! Now, then, what do you say? No, wait a -minute; I want you to understand it properly." She became silent for a -moment. Julia was thinking her a very rude woman; but, since Mr. Pindar -did not mind, who need? - -Lady Meg resumed. "I won't make an obligation of you--I mean, I won't be -bound to you; and you sha'n't be bound to me. You'll stay with me as -long as you like, or as long as I like, as the case may be. If you want -to go, put your visiting-card--yes, you'll have one--in an envelope and -send it to me. And if I want you to go, I'll put a hundred-pound note in -an envelope and send it to you--upon which you'll go, and no reasons -given! Is it agreed?" - -"It sounds all right," said Sophy. - -"Did you always have that mark on your cheek?" - -"Yes, always. Father told me so." - -"Well, will you come?" - -Sophy was torn. The stage was very attractive, and the love she had for -Julia Robins held her as though by a cord. But was the stage a poor -thing? Was that mysterious "real thing" better? Though even of that this -strange woman spoke scornfully. Already there must have been some -underground channel of understanding between them; for Sophy knew that -Lady Meg was more than interested in her--that she was actually excited -about her; and Lady Meg, in her turn, knew that she played a good card -when she dangled before Sophy's eyes the Queen of England and the -Emperor of the French--though even then came that saving "Lord help -him!" to damp an over-ardent expectation. - -"Let me speak to Julia," said Sophy. Lady Meg nodded; the girls linked -arms and walked apart. Pindar came to Lady Meg's elbow. - -"Another whim!" said he, in a low voice. Pikes was looking round the -view with a kind of vacant contentment. - -"Yes," she said. His lips moved. "I know what you said. You said: 'You -old fool!' Pindar." - -"Never, on my life, my lady!" They seemed more friends now than -patroness and client. Few saw them thus, but Pindar told Dunstanbury, -and the old gentleman was no liar. - -"Give me one more!" she whispered, plainly excited. "That mark must mean -something. It may open a way." - -"For her?" he asked, smiling. - -"It must for her. It may for me." - -"A way where?" - -"To knowledge--knowledge of the unknown. They may speak through her!" - -"Lady Meg! Lady Meg! And if they don't, the hundred-pound note! It's -very cruel." - -"Who knows?--who knows, Pindar? Fate has her ways." - -He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "Not half as amusing as your -ladyship's!" - -Sophy, twenty yards off, flung her arms round Julia. The embrace was -long; it spoke farewell. Lady Meg's eyes brightened. "She's coming with -me," she said. Pindar shrugged his shoulders again and fell back to -heel. Sophy walked briskly up. - -"I'll come, my lady," she said. - -"Good. To-morrow afternoon--to London. Mrs. Brownlow has the address. -Good-bye." She turned abruptly on her heel and marched off, her retinue -following. - -Julia came to Sophy. - -"We can write," she said. "And she's right. You must be for the real -thing, Sophy!" - -"My dear, my dear!" murmured Sophy, half in tears. "Yes, we must write." -She drew back and stood erect. "It's all very dark," she said. "But I -like it. London--and Paris! On the Seine!" Old lessons came back with -new import now. - -"The Emperor of the French!" Julia mocked--with tears in her eyes. - -A sudden thought occurred to Sophy. "What did she mean by 'Percival's -young person'? Is his name Percival?" - -Julia gave a little cry. "Lord Dunstanbury's? Yes. You've seen him -again?" - -She drew out the story. It made the sorrow of parting half forgotten. - -"You owe this to him, then! How romantic!" was actress Julia's -conclusion--in part a true one, no doubt. But Sophy, looking deeper, -fingered the Red Star. She had tracked the magnet of Lady Meg's regard, -the point of her interest, the pivot of decision for that mind of -whims. - - - - -V - -THE VISION OF "SOMETHING BRIGHT" - - -With that scene in the avenue of elm-trees at Morpingham there comes a -falling of the veil. Letters passed between Sophy and Julia Robins, but -they have not been preserved. The diary was not yet begun. Basil -Williamson did not move in the same world with Lady Meg and her -entourage: Dunstanbury was in Ireland, where his regiment was then -stationed. For the next twelve months there is only one glimpse of -Sophy--that a passing and accidental one, although not without its -significance as throwing a light on Lady Meg's adoption of Sophy (while -it lasted it amounted to that), and on the strange use to which she -hoped to be able to turn her _protegee_. The reference is, however, -tantalizingly vague just where explicitness would have been of curious -interest, though hardly of any real importance to a sensible mind. - -The reference occurs in a privately printed volume of reminiscences by -the late Captain Hans Fleming, R.N., a sailor of some distinction, but -better known as a naturalist. Writing in the winter of 1865-66 (he gives -no precise date), he describes in a letter a meeting with Lady -Meg--whom, it will be noticed, he calls "old Lady Meg," although at that -time she was but forty-nine. She had so early in life taken up an -attitude of resolute spinsterhood that there was a tendency to -exaggerate her years. - -"To-day in the park I met old Lady Meg Duddington. It was piercing cold, -but the carriage was drawn up under the trees. The poor spaniels on the -opposite seat were shivering! She stopped me and was, for her, very -gracious; she only 'Lord-helped-me' twice in the whole conversation. She -was full of her ghosts and spirits, her seers and witches. She has got -hold of an entirely new prophetess, a certain woman who calls herself -Madame Mantis and knows all the secrets of the future, both this side -the grave and the other. Beside Lady Meg sat a remarkably striking girl, -to whom she introduced me, but I didn't catch the name. I gathered that -this girl (who had an odd mark on one cheek, almost like a pale pink -wafer) was, in old Meg's mad mind, anyhow, mixed up with the -prophetess--as medium, or subject, or inspiration, or something of that -kind--I don't understand that nonsense, and don't want to. But when I -looked sceptical (and old Pindar chuckled--or it may have been his teeth -chattering with the cold), Meg nodded her head at the girl and said: -'She'll tell you a different tale some day: if you meet her in five -years' time, perhaps.' I don't know what the old lady meant; I suppose -the girl did, but she looked absolutely indifferent, and, indeed, bored. -One can't help being amused, but, seriously, it's rather sad for a man -who was brought up in the reverence of Lord Dunstanbury to see his only -daughter--a clever woman, too, naturally--devoting herself to such -childish stuff." - -Such is the passage; it is fair to add that most of the Captain's book -is of more general interest. As he implies, he had had a long -acquaintance with the Dunstanbury family, and took a particular interest -in anything that related to it. Nevertheless, what he says has its -place here; it fits in with and explains Lady Meg's excited and mystical -exclamation to Mr. Pindar at Morpingham, "They may speak through her!" -Apparently "they" had spoken--to what effect we cannot even conjecture, -unless an explanation be found in a letter of the Kravonian period in -which Sophy says to Julia: "You remember that saying of Mantis's when we -were in London--the one about how she saw something hanging in the air -over my head--something bright." That is all she says--and "something -bright" leaves the matter very vague. A sword--a crown--the nimbus of a -saint: imagination might play untrammelled. Still some prophecy was -made; Lady Meg built on it, and Sophy (for all her apparent -indifference) remembered it, and in after-days thought it worthy of -recall. That is as far as we can go; and with that passing glimpse, -Sophy Grouch (of course the mention of the wafer-like mark puts her -identity beyond question) passes out of sight for the time; indeed, as -Sophy Grouch, in the position in which we have seen her and in the name -under which we have known her, she passes out of sight forever. - - - - -PART II - -PARIS - - - - -I - -PHAROS, MANTIS, AND CO. - - -Lady Meg left London for Paris towards the end of 1865 or the beginning -of 1866, but we hear nothing of her doings until the early summer of -1868. The veil lifts then (so far as it ever lifts from before the face -of the Paris period), and shows us the establishment in the Rue de -Grenelle. A queer picture it is in many ways; it gives reason to think -that the state of mind to which Lady Meg had now come is but mildly -described as eccentricity. - -The eminent Lord Dunstanbury, Lady Meg's father, had been one of that -set of English Whigs and Liberals who were much at home in Paris in the -days of the July Monarchy. Among his friends was a certain Marquis de -Savres, the head of an old French family of Royalist principles. This -gentleman had, however, accepted the throne of Louis Philippe and the -political principles and leadership of Guizot. Between him and Lord -Dunstanbury there arose a close intimacy, and Lady Meg as a girl had -often visited in the Rue de Grenelle. Changed as her views were, and -separated as she was from most of her father's coterie in Paris, -friendship and intercourse between her and the Savres family had never -dropped. The present head of that family was Casimir de Savres, a young -man of twenty-eight, an officer of cavalry. Being a bachelor, he -preferred to dwell in a small apartment on the other side of the river, -and the family house in the Rue de Grenelle stood empty. Under some -arrangement (presumably a business one, for Marquis de Savres was by no -means rich) Lady Meg occupied the first floor of the roomy old mansion. -Here she is found established; with her, besides three French servants -and an English coachman (she has for the time apparently shaken off the -spaniels), is Mademoiselle Sophie de Gruche, in whose favor Sophy Grouch -has effected an unobtrusive disappearance. - -This harmless, if somewhat absurd, transformation was carried out with a -futile elaboration, smacking of Lady Meg's sardonic perversity rather -than of Sophy's directer methods. Sophy would probably have claimed the -right to call herself what she pleased, and left the world to account -for her name in any way it pleased. Lady Meg must needs fit her up with -a story. She was the daughter of a Creole gentleman married to an -English wife. Her mother being early left a widow, Sophy had been -brought up entirely in England--hence her indifferent acquaintance with -French. If this excuse served a purpose at first, at any rate it soon -became unnecessary. Sophy's marked talent for languages (she -subsequently mastered Kravonian, a very difficult dialect, in the space -of a few months) made French a second native tongue to her within a -year. But the story was kept up. Perhaps it imposed on nobody; but -nobody was rude enough--or interested enough--to question it openly. -Sophy herself never refers to it; but she used the name from this time -forward on all occasions except when writing to Julia Robins, when she -continues to sign "Sophy" as before--a habit which lasts to the end, -notwithstanding other changes in her public or official style. - -The times were stirring, a prelude to the great storm which was so soon -to follow. Paris was full of men who in the next few years were to make -or lose fame, to rise with a bound or fall with a crash. Into such -society Lady Meg's name, rank, and parentage would have carried her, had -she cared to go; she could have shown Sophy the Emperor of the French at -close quarters instead of contenting herself with a literal fulfilment -of her promise by pointing him out as he drove in the streets. But Lady -Meg was rabid against the Empire; her "Lord help him!"--the habitual -expression of contempt on her lips--was never lacking for the Emperor. -Her political associates were the ladies of the Faubourg St.-Germain, -and there are vague indications that Lady Meg was very busy among them -and conceived herself to be engaged in intrigues of vital importance. -The cracks in the imposing Imperial structure were visible enough by -now, and every hostile party was on the lookout for its chance. - -As we all know, perhaps no chance, certainly no power to use a chance, -was given to Lady Meg's friends; and we need not repine that ignorance -spares us the trouble of dealing with their unfruitful hopes and -disappointed schemes. Still the intrigues, the gossip, and the Royalist -atmosphere were to Sophy in some sort an introduction to political -interests, and no doubt had an influence on her mind. So far as she ever -acquired political principles--the existence of such in her mind is, it -must be confessed, doubtful--they were the tenets which reigned in the -Rue de Grenelle and in the houses of Lady Meg's Royalist allies. - -So on one side of Lady Meg are the nobles and their noble ladies sulking -and scheming, and on the other--a bizarre contrast--her witch and her -wizard, Madame Mantis and Pharos. Where the carcass is, there will the -vultures be; should the carcass get up and walk, presumably the vultures -would wing an expectant way after it. Madame Mantis--the woman of the -prophecy about "something bright"--had followed Lady Meg to Paris, -scenting fresh prey. But a more ingenious and powerful scoundrel came on -the scene; in association with Mantis--probably very close and not -creditable association--is Pharos, _alias_ Jean Coulin. In after-days, -under the Republic, this personage got himself into trouble, and was -tried at Lille for obtaining no less a sum than one hundred and fifty -thousand francs from a rich old Royalist lady who lived in the -neighborhood of the town. The rogue got his money under cover of a -vaticination that MacMahon would restore the monarchy--a nearer approach -to the real than he reached in his dealings with Lady Meg, but not, -probably, on that account any the more favorably viewed by his judges. - -The President's interrogation of the prisoner, ranging over his whole -life, tells us the bulk of what we know of him; but the earliest sketch -comes from Sophy herself, in one of the rare letters of this period -which have survived. "A dirty, scrubby fellow, with greasy hair and a -squint in his eye," she tells Julia Robins. "He wears a black cloak down -to his heels, and a gimcrack thing round his neck that he calls his -'periapt'--charm, I suppose he means. Says he can work spells with it; -and his precious partner Mantis _kisses it_ (Italics are Sophy's) -whenever she meets him. Phew! I'd like to give them both a dusting! What -do you think? Pharos, as he calls himself, tells Lady Meg he can make -the dead speak to her; and she says that isn't it possible that, since -they've died themselves and know all about it, they may be able to tell -her how not to! Seeing how this suits his book, it isn't Pharos who's -going to say 'no,' though he tells her to make a will in case anything -happens before he's ready to 'establish communication'--and perhaps they -won't tell, after all, but he thinks they will! Now I come into the -game! Me being very sympathetic, they're to talk _through me_ (Italics -again are Sophy's). Did you ever hear of such nonsense? I told Master -Pharos that I didn't know whether his ghosts would talk through me, but -I didn't need any of their help to pretty well see through him! But Lady -Meg's hot on it. I suppose it's what I'm here for, and I must let him -try--or pretend to. It's all one to me, and it pleases Lady Meg. Only he -and I have nothing else to do with each other! I'll see to that. To tell -you the truth, I don't like the look in his eye sometimes--and I don't -think Mrs. Mantis would either!" - -As a medium Sophy was a failure. She was antagonistic--purposely -antagonistic, said Jean Coulin, attempting to defend himself against the -President's suggestion that he had received something like three -thousand pounds from Lady Meg and given her not a jot of supernatural -information in return. This failure of Sophy's was the first rift -between Lady Meg and her. Pharos could have used it against her, and his -power was great; but it was not at present his game to eject her from -the household. He had other ends in view; and there was no question of -the hundred-pound note yet. - -It is pleasant to turn to another figure--one which stands out in the -meagre records of this time and bears its prominence well. Casimir -Marquis de Savres is neither futile nor sordid, neither schemer nor -impostor. He was a brave and simple soldier and gentleman, holding his -ancestral principles in his heart, but content to serve his country in -evil times until good should come. He was courteous and attentive to -Lady Meg, touching her follies with a light hand; and to Sophy he gave -his love with an honest and impetuous sincerity, which he masked by a -gay humor--lest his lady should be grieved at the havoc she herself had -made. His feelings about Pharos, his partner, and his jugglings, need no -description. "If you are neither restoring the King nor raising the -devil to-morrow, I should like to come to breakfast," he writes in one -of his early letters. "O Lady of the Red Star, if it were to restore you -to your kingdom in the star whose sign you bear, I would raise the devil -himself, all laws of Church and State notwithstanding! I came on Tuesday -evening--you were surrounded by most unimpeachable dowagers. Excellent -principles and irreproachable French! But, _mon Dieu_, for conversation! -I came on Thursday afternoon. Pharos and Mantis held sway, and I dared -not look round for fear of my ancestors being there to see me in the -Emperor's uniform! Tell me when there will be no ancestors living or -dead, nor dowagers nor devils, that I may come and see you. If dear Lady -Meg (Laidee Maig!)[1] _should_ be pursuing one or the other in other -places, yet forbid me not to come. She has whims, we know, but not, -thank Heaven, many principles; or, if she has our principles, at least -she scorns our etiquette. Moreover, queens make etiquette, and are not -ruled by what they make. And Star-Queens are more free and more -absolute still. What a long note--all to ask for a breakfast! No, it's -to ask for a sight of your eyes--and a volume would not be too long for -me to write--though it would be a bad way to make friends with the eyes -that had to read it! I believe I go on writing because it seems in some -way to keep you with me; and so, if I could write always of you, I would -lay down my sword and take up the pen for life. Yet writing to you, -though sweet as heaven, is as the lowest hell from which Pharos fetches -devils as compared with seeing you. Be kind. Farewell. - - "CASIMIR." - -[Footnote 1: He is apparently mimicking Sophy's mimicking of his -pronunciation.] - -To this he adds a postscript, referring apparently to some unrecorded -incident: "Yes, the Emperor did ask who it was the other day. I was sure -his eye _hit the mark_. I have the information direct." - - * * * * * - -It is very possible that this direct information pleased Sophy. - -Last among the prominent members of the group in which Sophy lived in -Paris is Madame Zerkovitch. Her husband was of Russian extraction, his -father having settled in Kravonia and become naturalized there. The son -was now in Paris as correspondent to one of the principal papers of -Slavna. Madame Zerkovitch was by birth a Pole; not a remarkable woman in -herself, but important in this history as the effective link between -these days and Sophy's life in Kravonia. She was small and thin, with -auburn hair and very bright, hazel eyes, with light-colored lashes. An -agreeable talker, an accomplished singer, and a kind-hearted woman, she -was an acquaintance to be welcomed. Whatever strange notions she -harbored about Sophy in after-days, she conceived from the beginning, -and never lost, a strong affection for her, and their friendship -ripened quickly from their first meeting at Lady Meg's, where Marie -Zerkovitch was a frequent visitor, and much interested in Pharos's -hocus-pocus. - -The occasion was one of the seances where Sophy was to be medium. It was -a curious scene. Gaunt Lady Meg, with her eyes strained and eager, -superintended the arrangements. "Lord help you!" was plentiful for -everybody, even for the prophet Pharos himself when his miracle was -behind time. Mantis was there, subterraneously scornful of her unwilling -rival; and the rogue Pharos himself, with his oily glibness, his cheap -mystery, and his professional jargon. Two or three dowagers and Casimir -de Savres--who had to unbuckle his sword and put it outside the door for -reasons insufficiently explained--completed the party. In the middle sat -Sophy, smiling patiently, but with her white brow wrinkled just a little -beneath the arching masses of her dark hair. On her lips the smile -persisted all through; the mark was hardly visible. "No more than the -slightest pinkness; I didn't notice it till I had looked at her for full -five minutes," says Marie Zerkovitch. This was, no doubt, the normal -experience of those who met Sophy first in moments of repose or of -depression. - -Sophy is to "go off." Pharos makes his passes and goes through the rest -of his performance. - -"I feel nothing at all--not even sleepy," said Sophy. "Only just tired -of staring at monsieur!" - -Casimir de Savres laughed; old Lady Meg looked furious; Mantis hid a -sickly smile. Down go the lights to a dull gloom--at the prophet's -request. More gestures, more whisperings, and then sighs of exhaustion -from the energetic wizard. - -"Get on, Lord help you!" came testily from Lady Meg. Had Pharos been -veritably her idol, she would have kicked him into granting her prayer. - -"She won't give me her will--she won't be passive," he protests, almost -eliciting a perverse sympathy. - -He produced a glittering disk, half as large again as a five-franc -piece; it gave forth infinite sparkles through the dark of the room. -"Look at that! Look hard--and think of nothing else!" he commanded. - -Silence fell on the room. Quick breaths came from eager Lady Meg; -otherwise all was still. - -"It's working!" whispered the wizard. "The power is working." - -Silence again. Then a sudden, overpowering peal of laughter from the -medium--hearty, rippling, irrepressible and irresistible. - -"Oh, Lady Meg, I feel such a fool--oh, such a fool!" she cried--and her -laughter mastered her again. - -Irresistible! Marie Zerkovitch joined in Casimir's hearty mirth, -Mantis's shrill cackle and the sniggers of the dowagers swelled the -chorus. Casimir sprang up and turned up the gas, laughing still. The -wizard stood scowling savagely; Lady Meg glared malignantly at her -ill-chosen medium and disappointing _protegee_. - -"What's the reason for it, Lord help you?" she snarled, with a very -nasty look at Pharos. - -He saw the danger. His influence was threatened, his patroness's belief -in him shaken. - -"I don't know," he answered, in apparent humility. "I can't account for -it. It happens, so far as I know, only in one case--and Heaven forbid -that I should suggest that of mademoiselle." - -"What is the case?" snapped Lady Meg, by no means pacified--in fact, -still dangerously sceptical. - -Pharos made an answer, grave and serious in tone in purpose and effect -malignantly nonsensical: "When the person whom it is sought to subject -to this particular influence (he touched the pocket where his precious -disk now lay) has the Evil Eye." - -An appeal to a superstition old as the hills and widespread as the human -race--would it ever fail to hit some mark in a company of a dozen? -Casimir laughed in hearty contempt, Sophy laughed in mischievous -mockery. But two of the dowagers crossed themselves, Lady Meg started -and glowered--and little Madame Zerkovitch marked, recorded, and -remembered. Her mind was apt soil for seed of that order. - -That, in five years' time, five years in jail awaited the ingenious -Monsieur Pharos occasions a consoling reflection. - - - - -II - -THE LORD OF YOUTH - - -Sophy's enemies were at work--and Sophy was careless. Such is the -history of the next twelve months. Mantis was installed medium now--and -the revelations came. But they came slow, vague, fitful, tantalizing. -Something was wrong, Pharos confessed ruefully--what could it be? For -surely Lady Meg by her faith (and, it may be added, her liberality) -deserved well of the Unseen Powers? He hinted at that Evil Eve again, -but without express accusation. Under "the influence" Mantis would speak -of "the malign one"; but Mantis, when awake, thought Mademoiselle de -Gruche a charming young lady! It was odd and mysterious. Pharos could -make nothing of it; he, too, thought Mademoiselle Sophie--he advanced to -that pleasant informality of description--quite ravishing and entirely -devoted to Lady Meg, only, unhappily, so irresponsive to the Unseen--a -trifle unsympathetic, it might be. But what would you? The young had no -need to think of death or the dead. Was it to be expected, then, that -Mademoiselle Sophie would be a good subject, or take much interest in -the work, great and wonderful though it might be? - -The pair of rogues did their work well and quietly--so quietly that -nothing of it would be known were it not that they quarrelled later on -over the spoils of this and other transactions, and Madame Mantis, in -the witness-box at Lille, used her memory and her tongue freely. "The -plan now was to get rid of the young lady," she said, plainly. "Pharos -feared her power over my lady, and that my lady might leave her all the -money. Pharos hated the young lady because she would have nothing to say -to him, and told him plainly that she thought him a charlatan. She had -courage, yes! But if she would have joined in with him--why, then into -the streets with me! I knew that well enough, and Pharos knew I knew it. -So I hated her, too, fearing that some day she and he would make up -their differences, and I--that for me! Yes, that was how we were, -Monsieur le President." Her lucid exposition elicited a polite -compliment from Monsieur le President--and we also are obliged to her. - -But Sophy was heedless. She showed afterwards that she could fight well -for what she loved well, and that with her an eager heart made a strong -hand. Her heart was not in this fight. The revelation of mad Lady Meg's -true motive for taking her up may well have damped a gratitude otherwise -becoming in Sophy Grouch transmuted to Sophie de Gruche. Yet the -gratitude remained; she fought for Lady Meg--for her sanity and some -return of sanity in her proceedings. In so fighting she fought against -herself--for Lady Meg was very mad now. For herself she did not fight; -her heart and her thoughts were elsewhere. The schemes in the Rue de -Grenelle occupied her hardly more than the clash of principles, the -efforts of a falling dynasty, the struggles of rising freedom, the stir -and seething of the great city and the critical times in which she -lived. - -For she was young, and the Lord of Youth had come to visit her in his -shower of golden promise. The days were marked for her no more by the -fawning advances or the spiteful insinuations of Pharos than by the -heroics of an uneasy emperor or the ingenious experiments in reconciling -contradictions wherein his ministers were engaged. For her the days -lived or lived not as she met or failed to meet Casimir de Savres. It -was the season of her first love. Yet, with all its joy, the shadow of -doubt is over it. It seems not perfect; the delight is in receiving, not -in giving; his letters to her, full of reminiscences of their meetings -and talks, are shaded with doubt and eloquent of insecurity. She was no -more than a girl in years; but in some ways her mind was precociously -developed--her ambition was spreading its still growing wings. Casimir's -constant tone of deference--almost of adulation--marks in part the man, -in part the convention in which he had been bred; but it marks, too, the -suppliant: to the last he is the wooer, not the lover, and at the end of -his ecstasy lies the risk of despair. For her part she often speaks of -him afterwards, and always with the tenderest affection; she never -ceased to carry with her wherever she went the bundle of his letters, -tied with a scrap of ribbon and inscribed with a date. But there is one -reference, worthy of note, to her innermost sentiments towards him, to -the true state of her heart as she came to realize it by-and-by. "I -loved him, but I hadn't grown into my feelings," she says. Brief and -almost accidental as the utterance is, it is full of significance; but -its light is thrown back. It is the statement of how she came to know -how she had been towards him, not of how in those happy days she seemed -to herself to be. - -He knew about Grouch; he had been told by a copious superfluity of -female friendliness--by Lady Meg, cloaking suspicious malignity under -specious penitence; by Madame Mantis with impertinent and intrusive -archness; by Marie Zerkovitch in the sheer impossibility of containing -within herself any secret which had the bad fortune to be intrusted to -her. Sophy's own confession, made with incredible difficulty--she hated -the name so--fell flat and was greeted with a laugh of mockery. - -It happened at the _Calvaire_ at Fontainebleau, whither they had made a -day's and night's excursion, under the escort of Marie Zerkovitch and a -student friend of hers from the Quartier Latin. These two they had left -behind sipping beer at a restaurant facing the chateau. On the eminence -which commands the white little town dropped amid the old forest, over -against the red roofs of the palace vying in richness with the turning -leaves, in sight of a view in its own kind unsurpassed, in its own charm -unequalled, Sophy broke the brutal truth which was to end the -infatuation of the head of a house old as St. Louis. - -"It's bad to pronounce, is it?" asked Casimir, smiling and touching her -hand. "Ah, well, good or bad, I couldn't pronounce it, so to me it is -nothing." - -"They'd all say it was terrible--a mesalliance." - -"I fear only one voice on earth saying that." - -"And the fraud I am--de Gruche!" She caught his hand tightly. Never -before had it occurred to her to defend or to excuse the transparent -fiction. - -"I know stars fall," he said, with his pretty gravity, not too grave. "I -wish that they may rise to their own height again--and I rise with -them." - -The sun sank behind the horizon. A gentle afterglow of salmon-pink -rested over the palace and city; the forest turned to a frame of smoky, -brownish black. Casimir waved a hand towards it and laughed merrily. - -"Before we were, it was--after we are, it shall be! I sound as old as -Scripture! It has seen old masters--and great mistresses! Saving the -proprieties, weren't you Montespan or Pompadour?" - -"De la Valliere?" she laughed. "Or Maintenon?" - -"For good or evil, neither! Do I hurt you?" - -"No; you make me think, though," answered Sophy. "Why?" - -"They niggled--at virtue or at vice. You don't niggle! Neither did -Montespan nor Pompadour." - -"And so I am to be--Marquise de--?" - -"Higher, higher!" he laughed. "Madame la Marechale--!" - -"It is war, then--soon--you think?" She turned to him with a sudden -tension. - -He pointed a Frenchman's eloquent forefinger to the dark mass of the -chateau, whose chimneys rose now like gloomy interrogation-marks to an -unresponsive, darkened sky. "He is there now--the Emperor! Perhaps he -walks in his garden by the round pond--thinking, dreaming, balancing." - -"Throwing balls in the air, as conjurers do?" - -"Yes, my star." - -"And if he misses the first?" - -"He'll seek applause by the second. And the second, I think, would be -war." - -"And you would--go?" - -"To what other end do I love the Lady of the Red Star--alas! I can't see -it--save to bring her glory?" - -"That's French," said Sophy, with a laugh. "Wouldn't you rather stay -with me and be happy?" - -"Who speaks to me?" he cried, springing to his feet. "Not you!" - -"No, no," she answered, "I have no fear. What is it, Casimir, that -drives us on?" - -"Drives us on! You! You, too?" - -"It's not a woman's part, is it?" - -He caught her round the waist, and she allowed his clasp. But she grew -grave, yet smiled again softly. - -"If all life were an evening at Fontainebleau--a fine evening at -Fontainebleau!" she murmured, in the low clearness which marked her -voice. - -"Mightn't it be?" - -"With war? And with what drives us on?" - -He sighed, and his sigh puzzled her. - -"Oh, well," she cried, "at least you know I'm Sophy Grouch, and my -father was as mean as the man who opens your lodge-gate." - -The sky had gone a blue-black. A single star sombrely announced the -coming pageant. - -"And his daughter high as the hopes that beckon me to my career!" - -"You've a wonderful way of talking," smiled Sophy Grouch--simple Essex -in contact with Paris at that instant. - -"You'll be my wife, Sophie?" - -"I don't think Lady Meg will keep me long. Pharos is working hard--so -Marie Zerkovitch declares. I should bring you a dot of two thousand five -hundred francs!" - -"Do you love me?" - -The old question rang clear in the still air. Who has not heard it of -women--or uttered it of men? Often so easy, sometimes so hard. When all -is right save one thing--or when all is wrong save one thing--then it is -hard to answer, and may have been hard to ask. With Casimir there was no -doubt, save the doubt of the answer. Sophy stood poised on a -hesitation. The present seemed perfect. Only an unknown future cried to -her through the falling night. - -"I'll win glory for you," he cried. "The Emperor will fight!" - -"You're no Emperor's man!" she mocked. - -"Yes, while he means France. I'm for anybody who means France." For a -moment serious, the next he kissed her hand merrily. "Or for anybody -who'll give me a wreath, a medal, a toy to bring home to her I love." - -"You're very fascinating," Sophy confessed. - -It was not the word. Casimir fell from his exaltation. "It's not love, -that of yours," said he. - -"No--I don't know. You might make it love. Oh, how I talk beyond my -rights!" - -"Beyond your rights? Impossible! May I go on trying?" - -He saw Sophy's smile dimly through the gloom. From it he glanced to the -dying gleam of the white houses dropped among the trees, to the dull -mass of the ancient home of history and kings. But back he came to the -living, elusive, half-seen smile. - -"Can you stop?" said Sophy. - -He raised his hat from his head and stooped to kiss her hand. - -"Nor would nor could," said he--"in the warmth of life or the cold hour -of death!" - -"No, no--if you die, it's gloriously!" The hour carried her away. -"Casimir, I wish I were sure!" - -The spirit of his race filled his reply: "You want to be dull?" - -"No--I--I--I want you to kiss my cheek." - -"May I salute the star?" - -"But it's no promise!" - -"It's better!" - -"My dear, I--I'm very fond of you." - -"That's all?" - -"Enough for to-night! What's he thinking of down there?" - -"The Emperor? I'm not so much as sure he's there, really. Somebody said -he had started for St. Cloud this morning." - -"Pretend he's there!" - -"Then of anything except how many men die for what he wants." - -"Or of how many women weep?" - -Her reply set a new light to his passion. "You'd weep?" he cried. - -"Oh, I suppose so!" The answer was half a laugh, half a sob. - -"But not too much! No more than the slightest dimness to the glowing -star!" - -Sophy laughed in a tremulous key; her body shook. She laid her hands in -his. "No more, no more. Surely Marie and the student are bored? Isn't it -supper-time? Oh, Casimir, if I were worthy, if I were sure! What's ahead -of us? Must we go back? To-night, up here, it all seems so simple! Does -he mean war? He down there? And you'll fight!" She looked at him for an -instant. He was close to her. She thrust him away from her. "Don't fight -thinking of me," she said. - -"How otherwise?" he asked. - -She tossed her head impatiently. "I don't know--but--but Pharos makes me -afraid. He--he says that things I love die." - -The young soldier laughed. "That leaves him pretty safe," said he. - -She put her arm through his, and they walked down. It had been a night -to be forgotten only when all is. Yet she went from him unpledged, and -tossed in her bed, asking: "Shall I?" and answered: "I'll decide -to-morrow!" - -But to-morrow was not at the _Calvaire_ nor in the seducing sweetness of -the silent trees. When she rose, he was gone--and the student, too. -Marie Zerkovitch, inquisitively friendly, flung a fly for news. - -"He's as fine a gentleman as Lord Dunstanbury!" cried Sophy Grouch. - -"As who?" asked Marie. - -Sophy smiled over her smoking coffee. "As the man who first saw me," she -said. "But, oh, I'm puzzled!" - -Marie Zerkovitch bit her roll. - -"Armand was charming," she observed. The student was Armand. He, too, -let it be recorded, had made a little love, yet in all seemly ardor. - -So ends this glimpse of the happy days. - - - - -III - -THE NOTE--AND NO REASONS - - -That feverish month of July--fitting climax to the scorching, arid -summer of 1870--had run full half its course. Madness had stricken the -rulers of France; to avoid danger they rushed on destruction. Gay -madness spread through the veins of Paris. Perverse always, Lady Meg -Duddington chose this moment for coming back to her senses--or at least -for abandoning the particular form of insanity to which she had devoted -the last five years. - -One afternoon she called her witch and her wizard. "You're a pair of -quacks, and I've been an old fool," she said, composedly, sitting -straight up in her high-backed chair. She flung a couple of -thousand-franc notes across the table. "You can go," she ended, with -contemptuous brevity. Mantis's evil temper broke out: "She has done -this, the malign one!" Pharos was wiser; he had not done badly out of -Lady Meg, and madness such as hers is apt to be recurrent. His farewell -was gentle, his exit not ungraceful; yet he, too, prayed her to beware -of a certain influence. "Stuff! You don't know what you're talking -about!" Lady Meg jerked out, and pointed with her finger to the door. -"So we went out, and to avoid any trouble we left Paris the same day. -But this man here would not give me any of the money, though I had done -as much to earn it as he had, or more." So injured Madame Mantis told -Monsieur le President at Lille. - -Early on the morning of Sunday, the 17th, having received word through -Lady Meg's maid that her presence was not commanded in the Rue de -Grenelle, Sophy slipped round to the Rue du Bac and broke in on Marie -Zerkovitch, radiant with her great news and imploring her friend to -celebrate it by a day in the country. - -"It means that dear old Lady Meg will be what she used to be to me!" she -cried. "We shall go back to England, I expect, and--I wonder what that -will be like!" - -Her face grew suddenly thoughtful. Back to England! How would that suit -Sophie de Gruche? And what was to happen about Casimir de Savres? The -period of her long, sweet indecision was threatened with a forced -conclusion. - -Marie Zerkovitch was preoccupied against both her friend's joy and her -friend's perplexity. Great affairs touched her at home. There would be -war, she said, certainly war; to-day the Senate went to St. Cloud to see -the Emperor. Zerkovitch had started thither already, on the track of -news. The news in the near future would certainly be war, and Zerkovitch -would follow the armies, still on the track of news. "He went before, in -the war of 'sixty-six," she said, her lips trembling. "And he all but -died of fever; that kills the correspondents just as much as the -soldiers. Ah, it's so dangerous, Sophie--and so terrible to be left -behind alone. I don't know what I shall do! My husband wants me to go -home. He doesn't believe the French will win, and he fears trouble for -those who stay here." She looked at last at Sophy's clouded face. "Ah, -and your Casimir--he will be at the front!" - -"Yes, Casimir will be at the front," said Sophy, a ring of excitement -hardly suppressed in her voice. - -"If he should be killed!" murmured Marie, throwing her arms out in a -gesture of lamentation. - -"You bird of ill omen! He'll come back covered with glory." - -The two spent a quiet day together, Sophy helping Marie in her homely -tasks. Zerkovitch's campaigning kit was overhauled--none knew how soon -orders for an advance might come--his buttons put on, his thick -stockings darned. The hours slipped away in work and talk. At six -o'clock they went out and dined at a small restaurant hard by. Things -seemed very quiet there. The fat waiter told them with a shrug: "We -sha'n't have much noise here to-night--the lads will be over there!" He -pointed across the river. "They'll be over there most of the night--on -the _grands boulevards_. Because it's war, madame. Oh, yes, it's war!" -The two young women sipped their coffee in silence. "As a lad I saw -1830. I was out in the streets in 1851. What shall I see next?" he asked -them as he swept his napkin over the marble table-top. If he stayed at -his post, he saw many strange things; unnatural fires lit his skies, and -before his doors brother shed brother's blood. - -The friends parted at half-past seven. Marie hoped her husband would be -returning home soon, and with news; Sophy felt herself due in the Rue de -Grenelle. She reached the house there a little before eight. The -_concierge_ was not in his room; she went up-stairs unseen, and passed -into the drawing-room. The inner door leading to the room Lady Meg -occupied stood open. Sophy called softly, but there was no answer. She -walked towards the door and was about to look into the room, thinking -that perhaps Lady Meg was asleep, when she heard herself addressed. The -Frenchwoman who acted as their cook had come in and stood now on the -threshold with a puzzled, distressed look on her face. - -"I'm sorry, Mademoiselle Sophie, to tell you, but my lady has gone." - -"Gone! Where to?" - -"To England, I believe. This morning, after you had gone out, she -ordered everything to be packed. It was done. She paid us here off, -bidding me alone stay till orders reached me from Monsieur le Marquis. -Then she went; only the coachman accompanied her. I think she started -for Calais. At least, she is gone." - -"She said--said nothing about me?" - -"You'll see there's a letter for you on the small table in the window -there." - -"Oh yes! Thank you." - -"Your room is ready for you to-night." - -"I've dined. I shall want nothing. Good-night." - -Sophy walked over to the little table in the window, and for a few -moments stood looking at the envelope which lay there, addressed to her -in Lady Meg's sprawling hand. The stately room in the Rue de Grenelle -seemed filled with a picture which its walls had never seen; old words -re-echoed in Sophy's ears: "If I want you to go, I'll put a -hundred-pound note in an envelope and send it to you; upon which you'll -go, and no reasons given! Is it agreed?" As if from a long way off, she -heard a servant-girl answer: "It sounds all right." She saw the old -elm-trees at Morpingham, and heard the wind murmur in their boughs; -Pindar chuckled, and Julia Robins's eyes were wet with tears. - -"And no reasons given!" It had sounded all right--before five years of -intimacy and a life transformed. It sounded different now. Yet the -agreement had been made between the strange lady and the eager girl. Nor -were reasons hard to find. They stood out brutally plain. Having sent -her prophet to the right about, Lady Meg wanted no more of her -medium--her most disappointing medium. "They" would not speak through -Sophy; perhaps Lady Meg did not now want them to speak at all. - -Sophy tore the envelope right across its breadth and shook out the -flimsy paper within. It was folded in four. She did not trouble to open -it. Lady Meg was a woman of her word, and here was the hundred-pound -note of the Bank of England--"upon which you'll go, and no reasons -given!" With a bitter smile she noticed that the note was soiled, the -foldings old, the edges black where they were exposed. She had no doubt -that all these years Lady Meg had carried it about, so as to be ready -for the literal fulfilment of her bond. - -"Upon which," said Sophy, "I go." - -The bitter smile lasted perhaps a minute more; then the girl flung -herself into a chair in a fit of tears as bitter. She had served--or -failed to serve--Lady Meg's mad purpose, and she was flung aside. Very -likely she had grown hateful--she, the witness of insane whims now past -and out of favor. The dismissal might not be unnatural; but, for all -their bargain, the manner was inhuman. They had lived and eaten and -drunk together for so long. Had there been no touch of affection, no -softening of the heart? It seemed not--it seemed not. Sophy wept and -wondered. "Oh, that I had never left you, Julia!" she cries in her -letter, and no doubt cried now; for Julia had given her a friend's love. -If Lady Meg had given her only what one spares for a dog--a kind word -before he is banished, a friendly lament at parting! - -Suddenly through the window came a boy's shrill voice: "_Vive la -guerre!_" - -Sophy sprang to her feet, caught up the dirty note, and thrust it inside -her glove. Without delay, seemingly without hesitation, she left the -house, passed swiftly along the street, and made for the Pont Royal. She -was bound for the other bank and for the Boulevard des Italiens, where -Casimir de Savres had his lodging. The stream of traffic set with her. -She heeded it not. The streets were full of excited groups, but there -was no great tumult yet. Men were eagerly reading the latest editions of -the papers. Sophy pushed on till she reached Casimir's house. She was -known there. Her coming caused surprise to the _concierge_--it was not -the proper thing; but he made no difficulty. He showed her to Casimir's -sitting-room, but of Casimir he could give no information, save that he -presumed he would return to sleep. - -"I must wait--I must see him," she said; and, as the man left her, she -went to the window, flung it open wide, and stood there, looking down -into the great street. - -The lights blazed now. Every seat at every _cafe_ was full. The -newspapers did a great trade; a wave of infinite talk, infinite chaff, -infinite laughter rose to her ears. A loud-voiced fellow was selling -pictures of the King of Prussia--as he looks now, and as he will look! -The second sheet never failed of a great success. Bands of lads came by -with flags and warlike shouts. Some cheered them, more laughed and -chaffed. One broad-faced old man she distinguished in the _cafe_ -opposite; he looked glum and sulky and kept arguing to his neighbor, -wagging a fat forefinger at him repeatedly; the neighbor shrugged bored -shoulders; after all, he had not made the war--it was the Emperor and -those gentlemen at St. Cloud! As she watched, the stir grew greater, the -bands of marching students more frequent and noisy, "_A Berlin!_" they -cried now, amid the same mixture of applause and tolerant amusement. A -party of girls paraded down the middle of the street, singing "_J'aime -les militaires!_" The applause grew to thunder as they went by, and the -laughter broke into one great crackle when the heroines had passed. - -She turned away with a start, conscious of a presence in the room. -Casimir came quickly across to her, throwing his helmet on the table as -he passed. He took her hands. "I know. Lady Meg wrote to me," he said. -"And you are here!" - -"I have no other home now," she said. - -With a light of joy in his eyes he kissed her lips. - -"I come to you only when I'm in trouble!" she said, softly. - -"It is well," he answered, and drew her with him back to the window. - -Together they stood looking down. - -"It is war, then?" she asked. - -"Without doubt it's war--without doubt," he answered, gravely. "And -beyond that no man knows anything." - -"And you?" she asked. - -He took her hands again, both of hers in his. "My lady of the Red Star!" -he murmured, softly. - -"And you?" - -"You wouldn't have it otherwise?" - -"Heaven forbid! God go with you as my heart goes! When do you go?" - -"I take the road in an hour for Strasburg. We are to be of MacMahon's -corps." - -"In an hour?" - -"Yes." - -"Your preparations--are they made?" - -"Yes." - -"And you are free?" - -"Yes." - -"Then you've an hour to make me sure I love you!" - -He answered as to a woman of his own stock. - -"I have an hour now--and all the campaign," said he. - - - - -IV - -THE PICTURE AND THE STAR - - -The letter which gives Julia Robins the history of that Sunday--so -eventful alike for France and for Sophy--is the last word of hers from -Paris. Julia attached importance to it, perhaps for its romantic flavor, -perhaps because she fancied that danger threatened her friend. At any -rate, she bestowed it with the care she gave to the later letters, and -did not expose it to the hazards which destroyed most of its -predecessors. It is dated from Marie Zerkovitch's apartment in the Rue -du Bac, and it ends: "I shall stay here, whatever happens--unless -Casimir tells me to meet him in Berlin!" - -The rash comprehensiveness of "whatever happens" was not for times like -those, when neither man nor nation knew what fate an hour held; but for -three weeks more she abode with Marie Zerkovitch. Marie was much -disturbed in her mind. Zerkovitch had begun to send her ominous letters -from the front--or as near thereto as he could get; the burden of them -was that things looked bad for the French, and that her hold on Paris -should be a loose one. He urged her to go home, where he would join -her--for a visit at all events, very likely to stay. Marie began to talk -of going home in a week or so; but she lingered on for the sake of being -nearer the news of the war. So, amid the rumors of unreal victories and -the tidings of reverses only too real, if not yet great, the two women -waited. - -Casimir had found time and opportunity to send Sophy some half-dozen -notes (assuming she preserved all she received). On the 5th of August, -the eve of Worth, he wrote at somewhat greater length: "It is night. I -am off duty for an hour. I have been in the saddle full twelve hours, -and I believe that, except the sentries and the outposts, I am the only -man awake. We need to sleep. The Red Star, which shines everywhere for -me, shines for all of us over our bivouac to-night. It must be that we -fight to-morrow. Fritz is in front of us, and to-morrow he will come on. -The Marshal must stop him and spoil his game; if we don't go forward -now, we must go back. And we don't mean going back. It will be the first -big clash--and a big one, I think, it will be. Our fellows are in fine -heart (I wish their boots were as good!), but those devils over -there--well, they can fight, too, and Fritz can get every ounce out of -them. I am thinking of glory and of you. Is it not one and the same -thing? For, in that hour, I didn't make you sure! I know it. Sophie, I'm -hardly sorry for it. It seems sweet to have something left to do. Ah, -but you're hard, aren't you? Shall I ever be sure of you? Even though I -march into Berlin at the head of a regiment! - -"I can say little more--the orderly waits for my letter. Yet I have so -much, much more to say. All comes back to me in vivid snatches. I am -with you in the old house--or by the _Calvaire_ (you remember?); or -again by the window; or while we walked back that Sunday night. I hear -your voice--the low, full-charged voice. I see your eyes; the star glows -anew for me. Adieu! I live for you always so long as I live. If I die, -it will be in the thought of you, and they will kill no prouder man than -Sophie's lover. To have won your love (ah, by to-morrow night, yes!) and -to die for France--would it be ill done for a short life? By my faith, -no! I'll make my bow to my ancestors without shame. 'I, too, have done -my part, messieurs!' say I, as I sit down with my forefathers. Sophie, -adieu! You won't forget? I don't think you can quite forget. Your -picture rides with me, your star shines ahead. - - "CASIMIR." - - * * * * * - -He was not wrong. They fought next day. The letter is endorsed "8th -August," presumably the date of its receipt. That day came also the news -of the disaster. On the 11th the casualty list revealed Casimir de -Savres's name. A few lines from a brother officer a day later gave -scanty details. In the great charge of French cavalry which marked the -closing stages of the battle he had been the first man hit of all his -regiment--shot through the heart--and through the picture of Sophy which -lay over his heart. - -No word comes from Sophy herself. And Madame Zerkovitch is brief: "She -showed me the picture. The bullet passed exactly through where that mark -on her cheek is. It was fearful; I shuddered; I hoped she didn't see. -She seemed quite stunned. But she insisted on coming with me to -Kravonia, where I had now determined to go at once. I did not want her -to come. I thought no good would come of it. But what could I do? She -would not return to England; she could not stay alone in Paris. I was -the only friend she had in the world. She asked no more than to travel -with me. 'When once I am there, I can look after myself,' she said." - -The pair--a little fragment of a great throng, escaping or thrust -forth--left Paris together on the 13th or 14th of August, en route for -Kravonia. With Sophy went the bullet-pierced picture and the little -bundle of letters. She did not forget. With a sore wound in her heart -she turned to face a future dark, uncertain, empty of all she had loved. -And--had she seen Marie Zerkovitch's shudder? Did she remember again, as -she had remembered by the _Calvaire_ at Fontainebleau, how Pharos had -said that what she loved died? She had bidden Casimir not fight thinking -of her. Thinking of her, he had fought and died. All she ever wrote -about her departure is one sentence--"I went to Kravonia in sheer -despair of the old life; I had to have something new." - -Stricken she went forth from the stricken city, where hundreds of men -were cutting down the trees beneath whose shade she had often walked and -ridden with her lover. - - - - -PART III - -KRAVONIA - - - - -I - -THE NAME-DAY OF THE KING - - -The ancient city of Slavna, for a thousand years or more and under many -dynasties the capital of Kravonia, is an island set in a plain. It lies -in the broad valley of the Krath, which at this point flows due east. -Immediately above the city the river divides into two branches, known as -the North and the South rivers; Slavna is clasped in the embrace of -these channels. Conditioned by their course, its form is not circular, -but pear-shaped, for they bend out in gradual broad curves to their -greatest distance from one another, reapproaching quickly after that -point is passed till they meet again at the end--or, rather, what was -originally the end--of the city to the east; the single reunited river -may stand for the stalk of the pear. - -In old days the position was a strong one; nowadays it is obviously much -less defensible; and those in power had recognized this fact in two -ways--first by allocating money for a new and scientific system of -fortifications; secondly by destroying almost entirely the ancient and -out-of-date walls which had once been the protection of the city. Part -of the wall on the north side, indeed, still stood, but where it had -escaped ruin it was encumbered and built over with warehouses and -wharves; for the North River is the channel of commerce and the medium -of trade with the country round about. To the south the wall has been -entirely demolished, its site being occupied by a boulevard, onto which -faces a line of handsome modern residences--for as the North River is -for trade, so the South is for pleasure--and this boulevard has been -carried across the stream and on beyond the old limits of the city, and -runs for a mile or farther on the right bank of the reunited Krath, -forming a delightful and well-shaded promenade where the citizens are -accustomed to take their various forms of exercise. - -Opposite to it, on the left bank, lies the park attached to the Palace. -That building itself, dating from 1820 and regrettably typical of the -style of its period, faces the river on the left bank just where the -stream takes a broad sweep to the south, giving a rounded margin to the -King's pleasure-grounds. Below the Palace there soon comes open country -on both banks. The boulevard merges in the main post-road to Volseni and -to the mountains which form the eastern frontier of the kingdom. At this -date, and for a considerable number of years afterwards, the only -railway line in Kravonia did not follow the course of the Krath (which -itself afforded facilities for traffic and intercourse), but ran down -from the north, having its terminus on the left bank of the North River, -whence a carriage-bridge gave access to the city. - -To vote money is one thing, to raise it another, and to spend it on the -designated objects a third. Not a stone nor a sod of the new forts was -yet in place, and Slavna's solitary defence was the ancient castle which -stood on the left bank of the river just at the point of bisection, -facing the casino and botanical gardens on the opposite bank. -Suleiman's Tower, a relic of Turkish rule, is built on a simple plan--a -square curtain, with a bastion at each corner, encloses a massive -circular tower. The gate faces the North River, and a bridge, which -admits of being raised and lowered, connects this outwork with the north -wall of the city, which at this point is in good preservation. The fort -is roomy; two or three hundred men could find quarters there; and -although it is, under modern conditions, of little use against an enemy -from without, it occupies a position of considerable strength with -regard to the city itself. It formed at this time the headquarters and -residence of the Commandant of the garrison, a post held by the heir to -the throne, the Prince of Slavna. - -In spite of the flatness of the surrounding country, the appearance of -Slavna is not unpicturesque. Time and the hand of man (the people are a -color-loving race) have given many tints, soft and bright, to the roofs, -gables, and walls of the old quarter in the north town, over which -Suleiman's Tower broods with an antique impressiveness. Behind the -pleasant residences which border on the southern boulevard lie handsome -streets of commercial buildings and shops, these last again glowing with -diversified and gaudy colors. In the centre of the city, where, but for -its bisection, we may imagine the Krath would have run, a pretty little -canal has been made by abstracting water from the river and conducting -it through the streets. On either side of this stream a broad road runs. -Almost exactly midway through the city the roads broaden and open into -the spacious Square of St. Michael, containing the cathedral, the fine -old city hall, several good town-houses dating two or three hundred -years back, barracks, and the modern but not unsightly Government -offices. Through this square and the streets leading to it from west -and east there now runs an excellent service of electric cars; but at -the date with which we are concerned a crazy fiacre or a crazier omnibus -was the only public means of conveyance. Not a few good private -equipages were, however, to be seen, for the Kravonians have been from -of old lovers of horses. The city has a population bordering on a -hundred thousand, and, besides being the principal depot and centre of -distribution for a rich pastoral and agricultural country, it transacts -a respectable export trade in hides and timber. It was possible for a -careful man to grow rich in Slavna, even though he were not a politician -nor a Government official. - -Two or three years earlier, an enterprising Frenchman of the name of -Rousseau had determined to provide Slavna with a first-rate modern hotel -and _cafe_. Nothing could have consorted better with the views of King -Alexis Stefanovitch, and Monsieur Rousseau obtained, on very favorable -terms, a large site at the southeast end of the city, just where the -North and South rivers reunite. Here he built his hostelry and named it -_pietatis causa_, the Hotel de Paris. A fine terrace ran along the front -of the house, abutting on the boulevard and affording a pleasant view of -the royal park and the Palace in the distance on the opposite bank. - -On this terrace, it being a fine October morning, sat Sophy, drinking a -cup of chocolate. - -The scene before her, if not quite living up to the name of the hotel, -was yet animated enough. A score of handsome carriages drove by, some -containing gayly dressed ladies, some officers in smart uniforms. Other -officers rode or walked by; civil functionaries, journalists, and a -straggling line of onlookers swelled the stream which set towards the -Palace. Awaking from a reverie to mark the unwonted stir, Sophy saw the -leaders of the informal procession crossing the ornamental iron bridge -which spanned the Krath, a quarter of a mile from where she sat, and -gave access to the King's demesne on the left bank. - -"Right bank--left bank! It sounds like home!" she thought to herself, -smiling perhaps rather bitterly. "Home!" Her home now was a single room -over a goldsmith's shop, whither she had removed to relieve Marie -Zerkovitch from a hospitality too burdensome, as Sophy feared, for her -existing resources to sustain. - -The reverie bore breaking; it had been none too pleasant; in it sad -memories disputed place with present difficulties. Some third or so -remained of Lady Meg's hundred-pound note. Necessity had forced a use of -the money at any cost to pride. When all was gone, Sophy would have to -depend on what is so often a last and so often a vain refuge--the -teaching of French; it was the only subject which she could claim to -teach. Verily, it was a poor prospect; it was better to look at the -officers and the ladies than to think of it--ay, better than to think of -Casimir and of what lay in the past. With her strong will she strove to -steel herself alike against recollection and against apprehension. - -The _cafe_ was nearly deserted; the hour was too early for the citizens, -and Sophy's own chocolate had been merely an excuse to sit down. Yet -presently a young officer in a hussar uniform stopped his horse opposite -the door, and, giving over the reins to an orderly who attended him, -nimbly dismounted. Tall and fair, with a pleasant, open face, he wore -his finery with a dashing air, and caressed a delicate, upturned -mustache as he glanced round, choosing his seat. The next moment he -advanced towards Sophy; giving her a polite salute, he indicated the -little table next to hers. - -"Mademoiselle permits?" he asked. "She has, I fear, forgotten, but I -have the honor to be an acquaintance of hers." - -"I remember," smiled Sophy. "Captain Markart? We met at Madame -Zerkovitch's." - -"Oh, that's pleasant of you!" he cried. "I hate being clean forgotten. -But I fear you remember me only because I sang so badly!" - -"I remember best that you said you wanted to go and help France, but -your General wouldn't let you." - -"Ah, I know why you remember that--you especially! Forgive me--our -friend Marie Zerkovitch told me." He turned away for a moment to give an -order to the waiter. - -"What's going on to-day?" asked Sophy. "Where's everybody going?" - -"Why, you are a stranger, mademoiselle!" he laughed. "It's the King's -name-day, and we all go and congratulate him." - -"Is that it? Are you going?" - -"Certainly; in attendance on my General--General Stenovics. My lodgings -are near here, his house at the other end of the boulevard, so he gave -me leave to meet him here. I thought I would come early and fortify -myself a little for the ordeal. To mademoiselle's good health!" He -looked at her with openly admiring eyes, to which tribute Sophy accorded -a lazy, unembarrassed smile. She leaned her chin on her hand, turning -her right cheek towards him. Sophy was never disdainful, never -neglectful; her pose now was good. - -"What sort of a man is the King?" she asked. - -"The King is most emphatically a very good sort of fellow--a very good -old fellow. I only wish his son was like him! The Prince is a Tartar. -Has he gone by yet?" - -"I don't think so. I suppose he'd have an escort, wouldn't he? I don't -know him by sight yet. Does everybody call the King a good fellow?" - -"Some people are so extremely righteous!" pleaded Markart, ruefully. -"And, anyhow, he has reformed now." - -"Because he's old?" - -"Fifty-nine! Is that so very old? No; I rather attribute it--you're -discreet, I hope? I'm putting my fortunes in your hands--to Madame la -Comtesse." - -"The Countess Ellenburg? Marie has told me something about her." - -"Ah! Madame Zerkovitch is a friend of hers?" - -"Not intimate, I think. And is the Countess oppressively respectable, -Captain Markart?" - -"Women in her position always are," said the Captain, with an affected -sigh: his round, chubby face was wrinkled with merriment. "You see, a -morganatic marriage isn't such a well-established institution here as in -some other countries. Oh, it's legal enough, no doubt, if it's agreed to -on that basis. But the Stefanovitches have in the past often made -non-royal marriages--with their own subjects generally. Well, there was -nobody else for them to marry! Alexis got promotion in his first -marriage--an Italian Bourbon, which is always respectable, if not very -brilliant. That gave us a position, and it couldn't be thrown away. So -the second marriage had to be morganatic. Only--well, women are -ambitious, and she has a young son who bears the King's name--a boy -twelve years old." - -He looked reflectively at his polished boots. Sophy sat in thoughtful -silence. A jingle of swords and the clatter of hoofs roused them. A -troop of soldiers rode by. Their uniform was the same smart tunic of -light blue, with black facings, as adorned Captain Markart's shapely -person. - -"Ah, here's the Prince!" said Markart, rising briskly to his feet. Sophy -followed his example, though more in curiosity than respect. - -The young man at the head of the troop returned Markart's salute, but -was apparently unconscious of the individual from whom it proceeded. He -rode by without turning his head or giving a glance in the direction of -the _cafe_ terrace. Sophy saw a refined profile, with a straight nose, -rather short, and a pale cheek: there was little trace of the Bourbon -side of the pedigree. - -"He's on his promotion, too," continued the loquacious and irreverent -Captain, as he resumed his seat. "They want a big fish for -him--something German, with a resounding name. Poor fellow!" - -"Well, it's his duty," said Sophy. - -"Somebody who'll keep the Countess in order, eh?" smiled Markart, -twirling his mustache. "That's about the size of it, I expect, though -naturally the General doesn't show me his hand. I only tell you common -gossip." - -"I think you hardly do yourself justice. You've been very interesting, -Captain Markart." - -"I tell you what," he said, with an engaging candor, "I believe that -somehow the General makes me chatter just to the extent he wants me to, -and then stops me. I don't know how he does it; it's quite unconscious -on my part. I seem to say just what I like!" - -They laughed together over this puzzle. "You mean General Stenovics?" -asked Sophy. - -"Yes, General Stenovics. Ah, here he is!" He sprang up again and made a -low bow to Sophy. "Au revoir, mademoiselle. A thousand thanks!" - -He saluted her and hurried to the side of the pavement. General -Stenovics rode up, with two orderlies behind him. Saluting again, -Markart mounted his horse. The General brought his to a stand and waited -the necessary moment or two with a good-humored smile. His eye wandered -from the young officer to the presumable cause of his lack of vigilance. -Sophy felt the glance rest on her face. In her turn she saw a stout, -stumpy figure, clad in a rather ugly dark-green uniform, and a heavy, -olive-tinted face adorned with a black mustache and a stubbly gray -beard. General Stenovics, President of the Council of Ministers, was not -an imposing personage to the outward view. But Sophy returned the regard -of his prominent pale-blue eyes (which sorted oddly with the complexion -of his face) with vivid attention. The General rode on, Markart -following, but turning in his saddle to salute once more and to wave his -hand in friendly farewell. - -For the first time since her arrival in Slavna, Sophy was conscious of a -stir of excitement. Life had been dull and heavy; the mind had enjoyed -little food save the diet of sad memories. To-day she seemed to be -brought into sight of living interests again. They were far off, but -they were there; Markart's talk had made a link between them and her. -She sat on for a long while, watching the junction of the streams and -the broad current which flowed onward past the Palace, on its long -journey to the sea. Then she rose with a sigh; the time drew near for a -French lesson. Marie Zerkovitch had already got her two pupils. - -When General Stenovics had ridden three or four hundred yards, he -beckoned his aide-de-camp and secretary--for Markart's functions were -both military and civil--to his side. - -"We're last of all, I suppose?" he asked. - -"Pretty nearly, sir." - -"That must be his Royal Highness just crossing the bridge?" - -"Yes, sir, that's his escort." - -"Ah, well, we shall just do it! And who, pray"--the General turned round -to his companion--"is that remarkable-looking young woman you've managed -to pick up?" - -Markart told what he knew of Mademoiselle de Gruche; it was not much. - -"A friend of the Zerkovitches? That's good. A nice fellow, -Zerkovitch--and his wife's quite charming. And your friend--?" - -"I can hardly call her that, General." - -"Tut, tut! You're irresistible, I know. Your friend--what did you tell -her?" - -"Nothing, on my honor." The young man colored and looked a trifle -alarmed. But Stenovics's manner was one of friendly amusement. - -"For an example of your 'nothing,'" he went on, "you told her that the -King was an amiable man?" - -"Oh, possibly, General." - -"That the Countess was a little--just a little--too scrupulous?" - -"It was nothing, surely, to say that?" - -"That we all wanted the Prince to marry?" - -"I made only the most general reference to that, sir." - -"That--" he looked harder at his young friend--"the Prince is not -popular with the army?" - -"On my honor, no!" - -"Think, think, Markart." - -Markart searched his memory; under interrogation it accused him; his -face grew rueful. - -"I did wish he was more like his Majesty. I--I did say he was a Tartar." - -Stenovics chuckled in apparent satisfaction at his own perspicacity. But -his only comment was: "Then your remarkably handsome young friend knows -something about us already. You're an admirable cicerone to a stranger, -Markart." - -"I hope you're not annoyed, sir. I--I didn't tell any secrets?" - -"Certainly not, Markart. Three bits of gossip and one lie don't make up -a secret between them. Come, we must get along." - -Markart's face cleared; but he observed that the General did not tell -him which was the lie. - -This day Sophy began the diary; the first entry is dated that afternoon. -Her prescience--or presentiment--was not at fault. From to-day events -moved fast, and she was strangely caught up in the revolutions of the -wheel. - - - - -II - -AT THE GOLDEN LION - - -It was the evening of the King's name-day. There was a banquet at the -Palace, and the lights in its windows twinkled in sympathetic response -to the illuminations which blazed on the public buildings and principal -residences of Slavna. Everywhere feasting and revelry filled the night. -The restaurant of the Hotel de Paris was crowded, every seat on its -terrace occupied; the old Inn of the Golden Lion, opposite the barracks -in the Square of St. Michael, a favorite resort of the officers of the -garrison, did a trade no less good; humbler hostelries were full of -private soldiers, and the streets themselves of revellers male and -female, military and civil, honest and dishonest, drunk and sober. -Slavna had given itself up to a frolic; for, first, a _fete_ is a -_fete_, no matter what its origin; secondly, King Alexis was the most -popular man in his dominions, though he never did a decent day's work -for them; lastly, there is often no better way to show how much you hate -one man than by making a disproportionate fuss about another. It was -well understood that by thus honoring King Alexis, its Monarch, by thus -vociferously and untiringly wishing him the longest of reigns, Slavna -was giving a stinging back-hander to Prince Sergius, its titular Prince -and Commandant. You would see the difference when the Prince's day came -round! When General Stenovics pointed to the lights gleaming across the -Krath from the Palace windows and congratulated his Royal Highness on -the splendid popularity of the reigning House, the Prince's smile may -well have been ironical. - -"I shall go and see all this merriment for myself at close quarters -presently, General," said he. "I think the Commandant had best return to -the city to-night as early as the King will allow." - -"An admirable devotion to duty, sir," answered the General gravely, and -without any effort to dissuade the zealous Prince. - -But even in this gay city there was one spot of gloom, one place where -sullen rancor had not been ousted by malicious merriment. The first -company of his Majesty's Guards was confined to its barracks in the -Square of St. Michael by order of the Commandant of Slavna; this by -reason of high military misdemeanors--slackness when on duty, rioting -and drunkenness when on leave; nor were the officers any better than the -men. "You are men of war in the streets, men of peace in the ranks," -said the Commandant to them that morning in issuing his decree. "You -shall have a quiet evening to think over your short-comings." The order -was reported to the King; he sighed, smiled, shook his head, said that, -after all, discipline must be vindicated, and looked at his son with -mingled admiration and pity. Such a faculty for making himself, other -people, and things in general uncomfortable! But, of course, discipline! -The Commandant looked stern, and his father ventured on no opposition or -appeal. General Stenovics offered no remonstrance either, although he -had good friends in the offending company. "He must do as he likes--so -long as he's Commandant," he said to Markart. - -"May I go and see them and cheer them up a bit, sir, instead of coming -with you to the Palace?" asked that good-natured young man. - -"If his Royal Highness gives you leave, certainly," agreed the General. - -The Commandant liked Markart. "Yes--and tell them what fools they are," -he said, with a smile. - -Markart found the imprisoned officers at wine after their dinner; the -men had resigned themselves to fate and gone to bed. Markart delivered -his message with his usual urbane simplicity. Lieutenant Rastatz giggled -uneasily--he had a high falsetto laugh. Lieutenant Sterkoff frowned -peevishly. Captain Mistitch rapped out a vicious oath and brought his -great fist down on the table. "The evening isn't finished yet," he said. -"But for this cursed fellow I should have been dining with Vera at the -Hotel de Paris to-night!" - -Whereupon proper condolences were offered to their Captain by his -subalterns, who, in fact, held him in no small degree of fear. He was a -huge fellow, six feet three and broad as a door; a great bruiser and a -duellist of fame; his nickname was Hercules. His florid face was flushed -now with hot anger, and he drank his wine in big gulps. - -"How long are we to stand it?" he growled. "Are we school-girls?" - -"Come, come, it's only for one evening," pleaded Markart. "One quiet -evening won't hurt even Captain Hercules!" - -The subalterns backed him with a laugh, but Mistitch would have none of -it. He sat glowering and drinking still, not to be soothed and decidedly -dangerous. From across the square came the sound of music and singing -from the Golden Lion. Again Mistitch banged the table. - -"Listen there!" he said. "That's pleasant hearing while we're shut up -like rats in a trap--and all Slavna laughing at us!" - -Markart shrugged his shoulders and smoked in silence; to argue with the -man was to court a quarrel; he began to repent of his well-meant visit. -Mistitch drained his glass. - -"But some of us have a bit of spirit left, and so Master Sergius shall -see," he went on. He put out a great hand on either side and caught -Sterkoff and Rastatz by their wrists. "We're the fellows to show him!" -he cried. - -Sterkoff seemed no bad choice for such an enterprise--a wiry, active -fellow, with a determined, if disagreeable, face, and a nasty squint in -his right eye. But Rastatz, with his slim figure, weak mouth, and high -laugh, promised no great help; yet in him fear of Mistitch might -overcome all other fear. - -"Yes, we three'll show him! And now"--he rose to his feet, dragging the -pair up with him--"for a song and a bottle at the Golden Lion!" - -Rastatz gasped, even Sterkoff started. Markart laughed: it could be -nothing more than a mad joke. Cashiering was the least punishment which -would await the act. - -"Yes, we three together!" He released them for a moment and caught up -his sword and cap. Then he seized Rastatz's wrist again and squeezed it -savagely. "Come out of your trap with me, you rat!" he growled, in -savage amusement at the young man's frightened face. - -Sterkoff gained courage. "I'm with you, Hercules!" he cried. "I'm for -to-night--the devil take to-morrow morning!" - -"You're all drunk," said Markart, in despairing resignation. - -"We'll be drunker before the night's out," snarled Mistitch. "And if I -meet that fellow when I'm drunk, God help him!" He laughed loudly. "Then -there might be a chance for young Alexis, after all!" - -The words alarmed Markart. Young Count Alexis was the King's son by -Countess Ellenburg. A chance for young Alexis! - -"For Heaven's sake, go to bed!" he implored. - -Mistitch turned on him. "I don't want to quarrel with anybody in Slavna -to-night, unless I meet one man. But you can't stop me, Markart, and -you'll only do mischief by trying. Now, my boys!" - -They were with him--Sterkoff with a gleam in his squinting eye, Rastatz -with a forced, uneasy giggle and shaking knees. Mistitch clapped them on -the back. - -"Another bottle apiece and we'll all be heroes!" he cried. "Markart, you -go home to your mamma!" - -Though given in no friendly way, this advice was wise beneath its -metaphor. But Markart did not at once obey it. He had no more authority -than power to interfere; Mistitch was his senior officer, and he had no -special orders to act. But he followed the three in a fascinated -interest, and with the hope that a very brief proof of his freedom would -content the Captain. Out from the barracks the three marched. The sentry -at the gate presented arms, but tried to bar their progress. With a -guffaw and a mighty push Mistitch sent him sprawling. "The Commandant -wants us, you fool!" he cried--and the three were in the square. - -"What the devil will come of this business?" thought Markart, as he -followed them over the little bridge which spanned the canal, and thence -to the door of the Golden Lion. Behind them still he passed the seats on -the pavement and entered the great saloon. As Mistitch and his -companions came in, three-fourths of the company sprang to their feet -and returned the salute of the new-comers; so strongly military in -composition was the company--officers on one side of a six-feet-high -glass screen which cut the room in two, sergeants and their inferiors on -the other. A moment's silence succeeded the salute. Then a young officer -cried: "The King has interfered?" It did not occur to anybody that the -Commandant might have changed his mind and reversed his decree; for good -or evil, they knew him too well to think of that. - -"The King interfered?" Mistitch echoed, in his sonorous, rolling, thick -voice. "No; we've interfered ourselves, and walked out! Does any one -object?" - -He glared a challenge round. There were officers present of superior -rank--they drank their beer or wine discreetly. The juniors broke into a -ringing cheer; it was taken up and echoed back from behind the glass -screen, to which a hundred faces were in an instant glued, over which, -here and there, the head of some soldier more than common tall suddenly -projected. - -"A table here!" cried Mistitch. "And champagne! Quick! Sit down, my -boys!" - -A strange silence followed the impulsive cheers. Men were thinking. -Cheers first, thoughts afterwards, was the order in Slavna as in many -other cities. Now they recognized the nature of this thing, the fateful -change from sullen obedience to open defiance. Was it only a drunken -frolic--or, besides that, was it a summons to each man to choose his -side? Choosing his side might well mean staking his life. - -A girl in a low-necked dress and short petticoats began a song from a -raised platform at the end of the room. She was popular, and the song a -favorite. Nobody seemed to listen; when she ended, nobody applauded. -Mistitch had been whispering with Sterkoff, Rastatz sitting silent, -tugging his slender, fair mustache. But none of the three had omitted to -pay their duty to the bottle; even Rastatz's chalky face bore a patch of -red on either cheek. Mistitch rose from his chair, glass in hand. - -"Long life to the King!" he shouted. "That's loyal, isn't it? Ay, -immortal life!" - -The cheers broke out again, mingled with laughter. A voice cried: "Hard -on his heir, Captain Hercules!" - -"Ay!" Mistitch roared back. "Hard as he is on us, my friend!" - -Another burst of cheering--and again that conscience-smitten silence. - -Markart had found a seat, near the door and a good way from the -redoubtable Mistitch and his companions. He looked at his watch--it was -nearly ten; in half an hour General Stenovics would be leaving the -Palace, and it was meet that he should know of all this as soon as -possible. Markart made up his mind that he would slip away soon; but -still the interest of the scene, the fascination of this prelude--such -it seemed to him--held his steps bound. - -Suddenly a young man of aristocratic appearance rose from a table at the -end of the room, where he had been seated in company with a pretty and -smartly dressed girl. A graceful gesture excused him to his fair -companion, and he threaded his way deftly between the jostling tables to -where Mistitch sat. He wore Court dress and a decoration. Markart -recognized in the young man Baron von Hollbrandt, junior Secretary of -the German Legation in Slavna. - -Hollbrandt bowed to Mistitch, with whom he was acquainted, then bent -over the giant's burly back and whispered in his ear. - -"Take a friend's advice, Captain," he said. "I've been at the Palace, -and I know the Prince had permission to withdraw at half-past nine. He -was to return to Slavna then--to duty. Come, go back. You've had your -spree." - -"By the Lord, I'm obliged to you!" cried Mistitch. "Lads, we're obliged -to Baron von Hollbrandt! Could you tell me the street he means to come -by? Because"--he rose to his feet again--"we'll go and meet him!" - -Half the hall heard him, and the speech was soon passed on to any out of -hearing. A sparse cheer sputtered here and there, but most were silent. -Rastatz gasped again, while Sterkoff frowned and squinted villanously. -Hollbrandt whispered once more, then stood erect, shrugged his -shoulders, bowed, and walked back to his pretty friend. He sat down and -squeezed her hand in apology; the pair broke into laughter a moment -later. Baron von Hollbrandt felt that he at least had done his duty. - -The three had drunk and drunk; Rastatz was silly, Sterkoff vicious, the -giant Mistitch jovially and cruelly reckless, exalted not only by liquor -but with the sense of the part he played. Suddenly from behind the glass -screen rose a mighty roar: - -"Long live Mistitch! Down with tyrants! Long live Captain Hercules!" - -It was fuel to the flames. Mistitch drained his glass and hurled it on -the floor. - -"Well, who follows me?" he cried. - -Half the men started to their feet; the other half pulled them down. -Contending currents of feeling ran through the crowd; a man was reckless -this moment, timid the next; to one his neighbor gave warning, to -another instigation. They seemed poised on the point of a great -decision. Yet what was it they were deciding? They could not tell. - -Markart suddenly forgot his caution. He rushed to Mistitch, with his -hands out and "For God's sake!" loud on his lips. - -"You!" cried Mistitch. "By Heaven! what else does your General want? -What else does Matthias Stenovics want? Tell me that!" - -A silence followed--of dread suspense. Men looked at one another in fear -and doubt. Was that true which Mistitch said? They felt as ordinary men -feel when the edge of the curtain is lifted from before high schemes or -on intrigues of the great. - -"If I should meet the Prince to-night, wouldn't there be news for -Stenovics?" cried Mistitch, with a roar of laughter. - -If he should meet the Prince! The men at the tables could not make up -their minds to that. Mistitch they admired and feared, but they feared -the proud Prince, too; they had many of them felt the weight of his -anger. Those who had stood up sank back in their places. One pot-bellied -fellow raised a shout of hysterical laughter round him by rubbing his -fat face with a napkin and calling out: "I should like just one minute -to think about that meeting, Captain Hercules!" - -Markart had shrunk back, but Mistitch hurled a taunt at him and at all -the throng. - -"You're curs, one and all! But I'll put a heart in you yet! And now"--he -burst into a new guffaw--"my young friends and I are going for a walk. -What, aren't the streets of Slavna free to gentlemen? My friends and I -are going for a walk. If we meet anybody on the pavement--well, he must -take to the road. We're going for a walk." - -Amid a dead silence he went out, his two henchmen after him. He and -Sterkoff walked firm and true--Rastatz lurched in his gait. A thousand -eyes followed their exit, and from five hundred throats went up a long -sigh of relief that they were gone. But what had they gone to do? The -company decided that it was just as well for them, whether collectively -or as individuals, not to know too much about that. Let it be hoped that -the cool air outside would have a sobering effect and send them home to -bed! Yet from behind the glass screen there soon arose again a busy -murmur of voices, like the hum of a beehive threatened with danger. - -"A diplomatic career is really full of interest, ma chere," observed -Baron von Hollbrandt to his fair companion. "It would be difficult to -see anything so dramatic in Berlin!" - -His friend's pretty blue eyes lit up with an eager intensity as she took -the cigarette from between her lips. Her voice was full of joyful -excitement: - -"Yes, it's to death between that big Mistitch and the Prince--the blood -of one or both of them, you'll see!" - -"You are too deliciously Kravonian," said Hollbrandt, with a laugh. - -Outside, big Mistitch had crossed the canal and come to the corner where -the Street of the Fountain opens on to St. Michael's Square. "What say -you to a call at the Hotel de Paris, lads?" he said. - -"Hist!" Sterkoff whispered. "Do you hear that step--coming up the street -there?" - -The illuminations burned still in the Square and sent a path of light -down the narrow street. The three stopped and turned their heads. -Sterkoff pointed. Mistitch looked--and smacked his ponderous thigh. - - - - -III - -THE VIRGIN WITH THE LAMP - - -Whatever Marie Zerkovitch's feelings might be, Fate had its hand on her -and turned her to its uses. It was she who had directed Sophy's steps to -the old house ten doors down the Street of the Fountain from St. -Michael's Square. It was no more than half a mile from her own villa on -the south boulevard (from which the Street ran to the Square), and she -had long known the decent old couple--German Jews--who lived and carried -on their trade in the house over whose front hung the sign of the Silver -Cock. The face of the building was covered with carved timbers of great -age; the door of the shop stood far back within a black and ancient -porch. Behind the shop were a couple of rooms where Meyerstein and his -wife lived; above it one large room, with a window which jutted far out -over the narrow street. In this room, which was reached by a separate -door in the left side of the porch and a crazy flight of a dozen winding -stairs, lived Sophy, and thence she sallied out daily to give her -lessons to her two pupils. - -By the window she sat on the night of the King's name-day, on a low -chair. The heavy figure of a girl carrying a lamp--a specimen of her -landlord's superfluous stock--stood unemployed on the window-sill. The -room was dark, for the path of light from the illuminations, which made -the roadway below white, threw hardly a gleam on to its sombre walls; -but Sophy had no need of a lamp and every need to save her money. She -sat in the gloom, busy in thought, the fresh evening air breathing soft -and cool on her brow from the open window. - -Swift to build on slenderest foundations, avid to pile imagination on -imagination till the unsubstantial structure reached the skies, her mind -was at work to-night. The life and stir, the heat and tumult, of the -city, were fuel to her dreams. Chances and happenings were all about -her; they seemed to lie, like the water for Tantalus, just beyond the -reach of her finger-tips; her eyes pierced to the vision of them through -the dusky blackness of the ancient room. In response to the confused yet -clamorous cry of the life around her, her spirit awoke. Dead were the -dear dead; but Sophy was alive. But to be a starving French mistress at -Slavna--was that a chance? Yes, a better than being cook-maid at -Morpingham; and even in the kitchen at Morpingham Fortune had found her -and played with her awhile. For such frolics and such favor, however -fickle, however hazardous, Sophy Grouch of Morpingham was ever ready. -Dunstanbury had come to Morpingham--and Lady Meg. Paris had brought the -sweet hours and the gracious memory of Casimir de Savres. Should Slavna -lag behind? Who would come now? Ever the highest for Sophy Grouch! The -vision of the royal escort and its pale young leader flashed in the -darkness before her eagerly attendant eyes. - -Suddenly she raised her head. There was a wild, quick volley of -cheering; it came from the Golden Lion, whose lights across the Square a -sideways craning of her neck enabled her to see. Then there was silence -for minutes. Again the sound broke forth, and with it confused shoutings -of a name she could not make out. Yes--what was it? Mistitch--Mistitch! -That was her first hearing of the name. - -Silence fell again, and she sank back into her chair. The lights, the -stir, the revelry were not for her, nor the cheers nor the shouts. A -moment of reaction and lassitude came on her, a moment when the present, -the actual, lapped her round with its dim, muddy flood of vulgar -necessity and sordid needs. With a sob she bowed her head to meet her -hands--a sob that moaned a famine of life, of light, of love. "Go back -to your scullery, Sophy Grouch!" What voice had said that? She sprang to -her feet with fists clinched, and whispered to the darkness: "No!" - -In the street below, Mistitch slapped his thigh. - -Sophy pushed her hair back from her heated forehead and looked out of -the window. To the right, some twenty yards away and just at the end of -the street, she saw the figures of three men. In the middle was one who -bulked like a young Falstaff--Falstaff with his paunch not grown; he was -flanked by two lean fellows who looked small beside him. She could not -see the faces plainly, since the light from the Square was behind them. -They seemed to be standing there and looking past the sign of the Silver -Cock along the street. - -A measured, military footfall sounded on her left. Turning her head, she -saw a young man walking with head bent down and arms behind him. The -line of light struck full on him, he was plain to see as by broadest -day. He wore a costume strange to her eyes--a black sheepskin cap, a -sheepskin tunic, leather breeches, and high, unpolished boots--a rough, -plain dress; yet a broad, red ribbon crossed it, and a star glittered on -the breast; the only weapon was a short, curved scimitar. It was the -ancient costume of the Bailiff of Volseni, the head of that clan of -shepherds who pastured their flocks on the uplands. The Prince of Slavna -held the venerable office, and had been to Court in the dress -appropriate to it. He had refused to use his carriage, sending his -aides-de-camp home in it, and walked now through the streets of the city -which he had in charge. It was constantly his habit thus to walk; his -friends praised his vigilance; his foes reviled his prowling, spying -tricks; of neither blame nor praise did he take heed. - -Sophy did not know the dress, but the face she knew; it had been but -lately before her dreaming eyes; she had seen it in the flesh that -morning from the terrace of the Hotel de Paris. - -The three came on from her right, one of the lean men hanging back, -lurking a little behind. They were under her window now. The Prince was -but a few yards away. Suddenly he looked up with a start--he had become -aware of their approach. But before he saw them the three had melted to -one. With a shrill cry of consternation--of uneasy courage oozing -out--Rastatz turned and fled back to the Square, heading at his top -speed for the Golden Lion. In the end he was unequal to the encounter. -Sterkoff, too, disappeared; but Sophy knew the meaning of that; he had -slipped into the shelter of the porch. Her faculties were alert now; she -would not forget where Sterkoff was! Mistitch stood alone in the centre -of the narrow street, his huge frame barely leaving room for a man to -pass on either side. - -For a moment the Prince stood still, looking at the giant. Incredulity -had seemed to show first in his eyes; it changed now to a cold anger as -he recognized the Captain. He stepped briskly forward, and Sophy heard -his clear, incisive tones cut the air: - -"What extraordinary emergency has compelled you to disobey my orders, -Captain Mistitch?" - -"I wanted a breath of fresh air," Mistitch answered, in an easy, -insolent tone. - -The Prince looked again; he seemed even more disgusted than angry now. -He thought Mistitch drunk--more drunk than in truth he was. - -"Return to barracks at once and report yourself under stringent arrest. -I will deal with you to-morrow." - -"And not to-night, Sergius Stefanovitch?" At least he was being as good -as his word, he was acting up to the vaunts he had thrown out so boldly -in the great hall of the Golden Lion. - -"To-morrow we shall both be cooler." He was almost up to Mistitch now. -"Stand out of my way, sir." - -Mistitch did not budge. "There's room for you to pass by," he said. "I -won't hurt you. But the middle of the road belongs to me to-night." - -His voice seemed to grow clearer with every word; the critical encounter -was sobering him. Yet with sobriety came no diminution of defiance. -Doubtless he saw that he was in for the worst now, that forward was the -word, and retreat impossible. Probably from this moment he did not -intend the Prince to pass alive. Well, what he intended was the wish of -many; he would not lack shelter, friends, or partisans if he dared the -desperate venture. Be it said for him that there were few things he did -not dare. He dared now, growing sober, to stand by what the fumes of -wine had fired his tongue to. - -For a moment after the big man's taunt the Prince stood motionless. Then -he drew his scimitar. It looked a poor, weak weapon against the sword -which sprang in answer from Mistitch's scabbard. - -"A duel between gentlemen!" the Captain cried. - -The Prince gave a short laugh. "You shall have no such plea at the -court-martial," he said. "Gentlemen don't waylay one another in the -streets. Stand aside!" - -Mistitch laughed, and in an instant the Prince sprang at him. Sophy -heard the blades meet. Strong as death was the fascination for her -eyes--ay, for her ears, too, for she heard the quick-moving feet and the -quicker breathing of a mortal combat. But she would not look--she tried -not even to listen. Her eyes were for a man she could not see, her ears -for a man she could not hear. She remembered the lean fellow hidden in -the porch, straight under her window. She dared not call to warn the -Prince of him; a turn of the head, a moment of inattention, would cost -either combatant his life. She took the man in the porch for her own -adversary, his undoing for her share in the fight. - -Very cautiously, making no sound, she took the heavy lamp--the massive -bronze figure of the girl--raised it painfully in both her hands, and -poised it half-way over the window-sill. Then she turned her eyes down -again to watch the mouth of the porch. Her rat was in that hole! Yet -suddenly the Prince came into her view; he circled half-way round -Mistitch, then sank on one knee; she heard him guard the Captain's -lunges with lightning-quick movements of his nimble scimitar. He was -trying the old trick they had practised for hundreds of years at -Volseni--to follow his parry with an upward-ripping stroke under the -adversary's sword, to strike the inner side of his forearm and cut the -tendons of the wrist. This trick big Captain Mistitch, a man of the -plains, did not know. - -A jangle--a slither--a bellow of pain, of rage! The Prince had made his -stroke, the hill-men of Volseni were justified of their pupil. -Mistitch's big sword clattered on the flags. Facing his enemy, with his -back to the porch, the Prince crouched motionless on his knee; but it -was death to Mistitch to try to reach the sword with his unmaimed hand. - -It was Sophy's minute; the message that it had come ran fierce through -all her veins. Straining to the weight, she raised the figure in her -hands and leaned out of the window. Yes, a lean hand with a long knife, -a narrow head, a spare, long back, crept out of the darkness of the -porch--crept silently. The body drew itself together for a fatal spring -on the unconscious Prince, for a fatal thrust. It would be death--and to -Mistitch salvation torn from the jaws of ruin. - -"Surrender yourself, Captain Mistitch," said the Prince. - -Mistitch's eyes went by his conqueror and saw a shadow on the path -beside the porch. - -"I surrender, sir," he said. - -"Then walk before me to the barracks." Mistitch did not turn. "At once, -sir!" - -"Now!" Mistitch roared. - -The crouching figure sprang--and with a hideous cry fell stricken on the -flags. Just below the neck, full on the spine, had crashed the Virgin -with the lamp. Sterkoff lay very still, save that his fingers scratched -the flags. Turning, the Prince saw a bronze figure at his feet, a bronze -figure holding a broken lamp. Looking up, he saw dimly a woman's white -face at a window. - -Then the street was on a sudden full of men. Rastatz had burst into the -Golden Lion, all undone--nerves, courage, almost senses gone. He could -stammer no more than: "They'll fight!" and could not say who. But he had -gone out with Mistitch--and whom had they gone to meet? - -A dozen officers were round him in an instant, crying: "Where? Where?" -He broke into frightened sobs, hiding his face in his hands. It was Max -von Hollbrandt who made him speak. Forgetting his pretty friend, he -sprang in among the officers, caught Rastatz by the throat, and put a -revolver to his head. "Where? In ten seconds--where?" Terror beat -terror. "The Street of the Fountain--by the Silver Cock!" the cur -stammered, and fell to his blubbering again. - -The dozen officers, and more, were across the Square almost before he -had finished; Max von Hollbrandt, with half the now lessened company in -the inn, was hot on their heels. - -For that night all was at an end. Sterkoff was picked up, unconscious -now. Sullen, but never cringing, Mistitch was marched off to the -guard-room and the surgeon's ministrations. Every soldier was ordered to -his quarters, the townsfolk slunk off to their homes. The street grew -empty, the glare of the illuminations was quenched. But of all this -Sophy saw nothing. She had sunk down in her chair by the window, and lay -there, save for her tumultuous breathing, still as death. - -The Commandant had no fear, and would have his way. He stood alone now -in the street, looking from the dark splash of Mistitch's blood to the -Virgin with her broken lamp, and up to the window of the Silver Cock, -whence had come salvation. - - - - -IV - -THE MESSAGE OF THE NIGHT - - -The last of the transparencies died out; the dim and infrequent -oil-lamps alone lit up the Street of the Fountain and St. Michael's -Square. They revelled still down at the Hotel de Paris, whither Max von -Hollbrandt and a dozen others had hurried with the news of the evening's -great event. But here, on the borders of the old north quarter, all grew -still--the Golden Lion empty, the townsmen to their beds, the soldiers -to barracks, full of talk and fears and threats. Yet a light burned -still in the round room in the keep of Suleiman's Tower, and the -Commandant's servant still expected his royal master. Peter Vassip, a -sturdy son of Volseni, had no apprehensions--but he was very sleepy, and -he and the sentries were the only men awake. "One might as well be a -soldier at once!" he grumbled--for the men of the hills did not esteem -the Regular Army so high as it rated itself. - -The Commandant lingered in the Street of the Fountain. Sergius -Stefanovitch was half a Bourbon, but it was the intellectual half. He -had the strong, concentrated, rather narrow mind of a Bourbon of before -the family decadence; on it his training at Vienna had grafted a -military precision, perhaps a pedantry, and no little added scorn of -what men called liberty and citizens called civil rights. What rights -had a man against his country? His country was in his King--and to the -King the Army was his supreme instrument. So ran his public creed, his -statesman's instinct. But beside the Bourbon mother was the Kravonian -father, and behind him the long line of mingled and vacillating fortunes -which drew descent from Stefan, Lord of Praslok, and famous reiver of -lowland herds. In that stock the temperament was different: indolent to -excess sometimes, ardent to madness at others, moderate seldom. When the -blood ran hot, it ran a veritable fire in the veins. - -And for any young man the fight in the fantastically illuminated night, -the Virgin with the broken lamp, a near touch of the scythe of death, -and a girl's white face at the window? Behind the Commandant's stern -wrath--nay, beside--and soon before it--for the moment dazzling his -angry eyes--came the bright gleams of romance. - -He knew who lodged at the sign of the Silver Cock. Marie Zerkovitch was -his friend, Zerkovitch his zealous follower. The journalist was back now -from the battle-fields of France and was writing articles for _The -Patriot_, a leading paper of Slavna. He was deep in the Prince's -confidence, and his little house on the south boulevard often received -this distinguished guest. The Prince had been keen to hear from -Zerkovitch of the battles, from Marie of the life in Paris; with Marie's -tale came the name, and what she knew of the story, of Sophie de Gruche. -Yet always, in spite of her praises of her friend, Marie had avoided any -opportunity of presenting her to the Prince. Excuse on excuse she made, -for his curiosity ranged round Casimir de Savres's bereaved lover. "Oh, -I shall meet her some day all the same," he had said, laughing; and -Marie doubted whether her reluctance--a reluctance to herself -strange--had not missed its mark, inflaming an interest which it had -meant to balk. Why this strange reluctance? So far it was proved -baseless. His first encounter with the Lady of the Red Star--Casimir's -poetical sobriquet had passed Marie's lips--had been supremely -fortunate. - -From the splash of blood to the broken Virgin, from the broken Virgin to -the open window and the dark room behind, his restless glances sped. -Then came swift, impulsive decision. He caught up the bronze figure and -entered the porch. He knew Meyerstein's shop, and that from it no -staircase led to the upper floor. The other door was his mark, and he -knocked on it, raising first with a cautious touch, then more -resolutely, the old brass hand with hospitably beckoning finger which -served for knocker. Then he listened for a footstep on the stairs. If -she came not, the venturesome night went ungraced by its crowning -adventure. He must kiss the hand that saved him before he slept. - -The door opened softly. In the deep shadow of the porch, on the winding, -windowless staircase of the old house, it was pitch dark. He felt a hand -put in his and heard a low voice saying: "Come, Monseigneur." From first -to last, both in speech and in writing, she called him by that title and -by none other. Without a word he followed her, picking his steps, till -they reached her room. She led him to the chair by the window; the -darkness was somewhat less dense there. He stood by the chair. - -"The lamp's broken--and there's only one match in the box!" said Sophy, -with a low laugh. "Shall we use it now--or when you go, Monseigneur?" - -"Light it now. My memory, rather than my imagination!" - -She struck the match; her face came upon him white in the darkness, with -the mark on her cheek a dull red; but her eyes glittered. The match -flared and died down. - -"It is enough. I shall remember." - -"Did I kill him?" - -"I don't know whether he's killed--he's badly hurt. This lady here is -pretty heavy." - -"Give her to me. I'll put her in her place." She took the figure and set -it again on the window-sill. "And the big man who attacked you?" - -"Mistitch? He'll be shot." - -"Yes," she agreed with calm, unquestioning emphasis. - -"You know what you did to-night?" - -"I had the sense to think of the man in the porch." - -"You saved my life." - -Sophy gave a laugh of triumph. "What will Marie Zerkovitch say to that?" - -"She's my friend, too, and she's told me all about you. But she didn't -want us to meet." - -"She thinks I bring bad luck." - -"She'll have to renounce that heresy now." He felt for the chair and sat -down, Sophy leaning against the window-sill. - -"Why did they attack you?" - -He told her of the special grudge which Mistitch and his company had -against him, and added: "But they all hate me, except my own fellows -from Volseni. I have a hundred of them in Suleiman's Tower, and they're -stanch enough." - -"Why do they hate you?" - -"Oh, I'm their school-master--and a very strict one, I suppose. Or, if -you like, the pruning-knife--and that's not popular with the rotten -twigs." - -"There are many rotten twigs?" - -She heard his hands fall on the wooden arms of the chair and pictured -his look of despair. "All--almost all. It's not their fault. What can -you expect? They're encouraged to laziness and to riot. They have no -good rifles. The city is left defenceless. I have no big guns." He broke -suddenly into a low laugh. "There--that's what Zerkovitch calls my fixed -idea; he declares it's written on my heart--big guns!" - -"If you had them, you'd be--master?" - -"I could make some attempt at a defence anyhow; at least we could cover -a retreat to the hills, if war came." He paused. "And in peace--yes, I -should be master of Slavna. I'd bring men from Volseni to serve the -guns." His voice had grown vindictive. "Stenovics knows that, I think." -He roused himself again and spoke to her earnestly. "Listen. This fellow -Mistitch is a great hero with the soldiers and the mob. When I have him -shot, as I shall--not on my own account, I could have killed him -to-night, but for the sake of discipline--there will very likely be a -disturbance. What you did to-night will be all over the city by -to-morrow morning. If you see any signs of disturbance, if any people -gather round here, go to Zerkovitch's at once--or, if that's not -possible or safe, come to me in Suleiman's Tower, and I'll send for -Marie Zerkovitch too. Will you promise? You must run no risk." - -"I'll come if I'm afraid." - -"Or if you ought to be?" he insisted, laughing again. - -"Well, then--or if I ought to be," she promised, joining in his laugh. -"But the King--isn't he with you?" - -"My father likes me; we're good friends. But 'like father, unlike son' -they say of the Stefanovitches. I'm a martinet, they tell me; well, -he--isn't. Nero fiddled--you remember? The King goes fishing. He's -remarkably fond of fishing, and his advisers don't discourage him. I -tell you all this because you're committed to our side now." - -"Yes, I'm committed to your side. Who else is with you?" - -"In Slavna? Nobody! Well, the Zerkovitches, and my hundred in Suleiman's -Tower. And perhaps some old men who have seen war. But at Volseni and -among the hills they're with me." Again he seemed to muse as he reviewed -his scanty forces. - -"I wish we had another match. I want to see your face close," said -Sophy. He rose with a laugh and leaned his head forward to the window. -"Oh no; you're nothing but a blur still!" she exclaimed impatiently. - -Yet, though Sophy sighed for light, the darkness had its glamour. To -each the other's presence, seeming in some sense impalpable, seemed also -diffused through the room and all around; the world besides was -non-existent since unseen; they two alone lived and moved and spoke in -the dead silence and the blackness. An agitation stirred Sophy's -heart--forerunner of the coming storm. That night she had given him -life; he seemed to be giving back life to her life that night. How -should the hour not seem pregnant with destiny, a herald of the march of -Fate? - -But suddenly the Prince awoke from his reverie--perhaps from a dream. To -Sophy he gave the impression--as he was to give it more than once -again--of a man pulling himself up, tightening the rein, drawing back -into himself. He stood erect, his words became more formal, and his -voice restrained. - -"I linger too long," he said. "My duty lies at the Tower yonder. I've -thanked you badly; but what thanks can a man give for his life? We shall -meet again--I'll arrange that with Marie Zerkovitch. You'll remember -what I've told you to do in case of danger? You'll act on it?" - -"Yes, Monseigneur." - -He sought her hand, kissed it, and then groped his way to the stairs. -Sophy followed and went with him down to the porch. - -"Be careful to lock your door," he enjoined her, "and don't go out -to-morrow unless the streets are quite quiet." - -"Oh, but I've a French lesson to give at ten o'clock," she remonstrated -with a smile. - -"You have to do that?" - -"I have to make my living, Monseigneur." - -"Ah, yes," he said, meditatively. "Well, slip out quietly--and wear a -veil." - -"Nobody knows my face." - -"Wear a veil. People notice a face like yours. Again thanks, and -good-night." - -Sophy peeped out from the porch and watched his quick, soldierly march -up the street to St. Michael's Square. The night had lightened a little, -and she could make out his figure, although dimly, until he turned the -corner and was lost to sight. She lingered for a moment before turning -to go back to her room--lingered musing on the evening's history. - -Down the street, from the Square, there came a woman--young or old, -pretty or ugly, fine dame or drudge, it was too dark to tell. But it was -a woman, and she wept as though her heart were broken. For whom and for -what did she weep like that? Was she mother, or wife, or sweetheart? -Perhaps she wept for Sterkoff, who lay in peril of death. Perhaps she -loved big Mistitch, over whom hovered the shadow of swift and relentless -doom. Or maybe her sorrow was remote from all that touched them or -touched the girl who listened to her sobs--the bitter sobs which she did -not seek to check, which filled the night with a dirge of immeasurable -sadness. In the darkness, and to Sophy's ignorance of anything -individual about her, the woman was like a picture or a sculpture--some -type or monument of human woe--a figure of embodied sorrow, crying that -all joy ends in tears--in tears--in tears. - -She went by, not seeing her watcher. The sound of her sobbing softened -with distance, till it died down to a faint, far-off moan. Sophy herself -gave one choked sob. Then fell the silence of the night again. Was that -its last message--the last comment on what had passed? Tears--and then -silence? Was that the end? - -Sophy never learned aught of the woman--who she was or why she wept. But -her memory retained the vision. It had come as the last impression of a -night no moment of which could ever be forgotten. What had it to say of -all the rest of the night's happenings? Sophy's exaltation fell from -her; but her courage stood--against darkness, solitude, and the -unutterable sadness of that forlorn wailing. Dauntlessly she looked -forward and upward still, yet with a new insight for the cost. - -So for Sophy passed the name-day of King Alexis. - - - - -V - -A QUESTION OF MEMORY - - -King Alexis was minded that all proper recognition should be made of -Sophy's service to his family. It had been her fortune to protect a life -very precious in his eyes. Alien from his son in temperament and -pursuits, he had, none the less, considerable affection for him. But -there was more than this. With the Prince was bound up the one strong -feeling of a nature otherwise easy and careless. The King might go -fishing on most lawful days, but it was always a Stefanovitch who -fished--a prince who had married a princess of a great house, and had -felt able to offer Countess Ellenburg no more than a morganatic union. -The work his marriage had begun his son's was to complete. The royal -house of Kravonia was still on its promotion; it lay with the Prince to -make its rank acknowledged and secure. - -Thus Sophy's action loomed large in the King's eyes, and he was -indolently indifferent to the view taken of it in the barrack-rooms and -the drinking-shops of Slavna. Two days after Mistitch's attempt, he -received Sophy at the Palace with every circumstance of compliment. The -Prince was not present--he made military duty an excuse--but Countess -Ellenburg and her little son were in the room, and General Stenovics, -with Markart in attendance, stood beside the King's chair. - -Sophy saw a tall, handsome, elderly man with thick, iron-gray hair, most -artfully arranged. (The care of it was no small part of the duty of -Lepage, the King's French body-servant.) His Majesty's manners were -dignified, but not formal. The warmth of greeting which he had prepared -for Sophy was evidently increased by the impression her appearance made -on him. He thanked her in terms of almost overwhelming gratitude. - -"You have preserved the future of my family and of our dynasty," he -said. - -Countess Ellenburg closed her long, narrow eyes. Everything about her -was long and narrow, from her eyes to her views, taking in, on the way, -her nose and her chin. Stenovics glanced at her with a smile of uneasy -propitiation. It was so particularly important to be gracious just -now--gracious both over the preservation of the dynasty and over its -preserver. - -"No gratitude can be too great for such a service, and no mark of -gratitude too high." He glanced round to Markart, and called -good-humoredly, "You, Markart there, a chair for this lady!" - -Markart got a chair. Stenovics took it from him and himself prepared to -offer it to Sophy. But the King rose, took it, and with a low bow -presented it to the favored object of his gratitude. Sophy courtesied -low, the King waited till she sat. Countess Ellenburg bestowed on her a -smile of wintry congratulation. - -"But for you, these fellows might--or rather would, I think--have killed -my son in their blind drunkenness; it detracts in no way from your -service that they did not know whom they were attacking." - -There was a moment's silence. Sophy was still nervous in such company; -she was also uneasily conscious of a most intense gaze directed at her -by General Stenovics. But she spoke out. - -"They knew perfectly well, sir," she said. - -"They knew the Prince?" he asked sharply. "Why do you say that? It was -dark." - -"Not in the street, sir. The illuminations lit it up." - -"But they were very drunk." - -"They may have been drunk, but they knew the Prince. Captain Mistitch -called him by his name." - -"Stenovics!" The King's voice was full of surprise and question as he -turned to his Minister. The General was surprised, too, but very suave. - -"I can only say that I hear Mademoiselle de Gruche's words with -astonishment. Our accounts are not consistent with what she says. We -don't, of course, lay too much stress on the protestations of the two -prisoners, but Lieutenant Rastatz is clear that the street was decidedly -dark, and that they all three believed the man they encountered to be -Colonel Stafnitz of the Hussars. That officer much resembles his Royal -Highness in height and figure. In the dark the difference of uniform -would not be noticed--especially by men in their condition." He -addressed Sophy: "Mistitch had an old quarrel with Stafnitz; that's the -true origin of the affair." He turned to the King again. "That is -Rastatz's story, sir, as well as Mistitch's own--though Mistitch is, of -course, quite aware that his most unseemly, and indeed criminal, talk at -the Golden Lion seriously prejudices his case. But we have no reason to -distrust Rastatz." - -"Lieutenant Rastatz ran away only because he was afraid," Sophy -remarked. - -"He ran to bring help, mademoiselle," Stenovics corrected her, with a -look of gentle reproach. "You were naturally excited," he went on. -"Isn't it possible that your memory has played you a trick? Think -carefully. Two men's lives may depend on it." - -"I heard Captain Mistitch call the Prince 'Sergius Stefanovitch,'" said -Sophy. - -"This lady will be a most important witness," observed the King. - -"Very, sir," Stenovics assented dryly. - -Sophy had grown eager. "Doesn't the Prince say they knew him?" - -"His Royal Highness hasn't been asked for any account at present," -Stenovics answered. - -"If they knew who it was, they must die," said the King in evident -concern and excitement. - -Stenovics contented himself with a bow of obedience. The King rose and -gave Sophy his hand. - -"We shall hope to see you again soon," he said, very graciously. -"Meanwhile, General Stenovics has something to say to you in my name -which will, I trust, prove agreeable to you." His eyes dwelt on her face -for a moment as she took her leave. - -Stenovics made his communication later in the day, paying Sophy the high -compliment of a personal call at the sign of the Silver Cock for that -purpose. His manner was most cordial. Sophy was to receive an honorary -appointment in the Royal Household at an annual salary of ten thousand -paras, or some four hundred pounds. - -"It isn't riches--we aren't very rich in Kravonia--but it will, I hope, -make you comfortable and relieve you from the tiresome lessons which -Markart tells me you're now burdened with." - -Sophy was duly grateful, and asked what her appointment was. - -"It's purely honorary," he smiled. "You are to be Keeper of the -Tapestries." - -"I know nothing about tapestries," said Sophy, "but I dare say I can -learn; it'll be very interesting." - -Stenovics leaned back in his chair with an amused smile. - -"There aren't any tapestries," he said. "They were sold a good many -years ago." - -"Then why do you keep a--" - -"When you're older in the royal service, you'll see that it's convenient -to have a few sinecures," he told her, with a good-humored laugh. "See -how handy this one is now!" - -"But I shall feel rather an impostor." - -"Merely the novelty of it," he assured her consolingly. - -Sophy began to laugh, and the General joined in heartily. "Well, that's -settled," said he. "You make three or four appearances at Court, and -nothing more will be necessary. I hope you like your appointment?" - -Sophy laughed delightedly. "It's charming--and very amusing," she said. -"I'm getting very much interested in your country, General." - -"My country is returning your kind compliment, I can assure you," he -replied. His tone had grown dry, and he seemed to be watching her now. -She waved her hands towards the Virgin with the lamp: the massive figure -stood in its old place by the window. - -"What a lot I owe to her!" she cried. - -"We all owe much," said Stenovics. - -"The Prince thought some people might be angry with me--because Captain -Mistitch is a favorite." - -"Very possible, I'm afraid, very possible. But in this world we must do -our duty, and--" - -"Risk the consequences? Yes!" - -"If we can't control them, Mademoiselle de Gruche." He paused a moment, -and then went on: "The court-martial on Mistitch is convened for -Saturday. Sterkoff won't be well enough to be tried for another two or -three weeks." - -"I'm glad he's not dead, though if he recovers only to be shot--! Still, -I'm glad I didn't kill him." - -"Not by your hand," said Stenovics. - -"But you mean in effect? Well, I'm not ashamed. Surely they deserve -death." - -"Undoubtedly--if Rastatz is wrong--and your memory right." - -"The Prince's own story?" - -"He isn't committed to any story yet." - -Sophy rested her chin on her hand, and regarded her companion closely. -He did not avoid her glance. - -"You're wondering what I mean?--what I'm after?" he asked her, smiling -quietly. "Oh yes, I see you are. Go on wondering, thinking, watching -things about you for a day or two--there are three days between now and -Saturday. You'll see me again before Saturday--and I've no doubt you'll -see the Prince." - -"If Rastatz were right--and my memory wrong--?" - -He smiled still. "The offence against discipline would be so much less -serious. The Prince is a disciplinarian. To speak with all respect, he -forgets sometimes that discipline is, in the last analysis, only a part -of policy--a means, not an end. The end is always the safety and -tranquillity of the State." He spoke with weighty emphasis. - -"The offence against discipline! An attempt to assassinate--!" - -"I see you cling to your own memory--you won't have anything to say to -Rastatz!" He rose and bowed over her hand. "Much may happen between now -and Saturday. Look about you, watch, and think!" - -The General's final injunction, at least, Sophy lost no time in obeying; -and on the slightest thought three things were obvious: the King was -very grateful to her; Stenovics wished at any rate to appear very -grateful to her; and, for some reason or another, Stenovics wished her -memory to be wrong, to the end that the life of Mistitch and his -companion (the greater included the less) might be spared. Why did he -wish that? - -Presumably--his words about the relation of discipline to policy -supported the conclusion--to avoid that disturbance which the Prince had -forecasted as the result of Mistitch's being put to death. But the -Prince was not afraid of the disturbance--why should Stenovics be? The -Commandant was all confidence--was the Minister afraid? In some sense he -was afraid. That she accepted. But she hesitated to believe that he was -afraid in the common sense that he was either lacking in nerve or -overburdened with humanity, that he either feared fighting or would -shrink from a salutary severity in repressing tumult. If he feared, he -feared neither for his own skin nor for the skin of others; he feared -for his policy or his ambition. - -These things were nothing to her; she was for the Prince, for his policy -and his ambition. Were they the same as Stenovics's? Even a novice at -the game could see that this by no means followed of necessity. The King -was elderly, and went a-fishing. The Prince was young, and a martinet. -In age, Stenovics was between the two--nearly twenty years younger than -the King, a dozen or so older than the Prince. Under the present regime -he had matters almost entirely his own way. At first sight there was, of -a certainty, no reason why his ambitions should coincide precisely with -those of the Prince. Fifty-nine, forty-one, twenty-eight--the ages of -the three men in themselves illuminated the situation--that is, if -forty-one could manage fifty-nine, but had no such power over -twenty-eight. - -New to such meditations, yet with a native pleasure in them, taking to -the troubled waters as though born a swimmer, Sophy thought, and -watched, and looked about. As to her own part she was clear. Whether -Rastatz was right--whether that most vivid and indelible memory of hers -was wrong--were questions which awaited the sole determination of the -Prince of Slavna. - -Her attitude would have been unchanged, but her knowledge much -increased, could she have been present at a certain meeting on the -terrace of the Hotel de Paris that same evening. Markart was there--and -little Rastatz, whose timely flight and accommodating memory rendered -him to-day not only a free man but a personage of value. But neither did -more than wait on the words of the third member of the party--that -Colonel Stafnitz of the Hussars who had an old feud with Mistitch, for -whom Mistitch had mistaken the Prince of Slavna. A most magnanimous, -forgiving gentleman, apparently, this spare, slim-built man with -thoughtful eyes; his whole concern was to get Mistitch out of the mess! -The feud he seemed to remember not at all; it was a feud of convenience, -a feud to swear to at the court-martial. He was as ready to accommodate -Stenovics with the use of his name as Rastatz was to offer the -requisite modifications of his memory. But there--with that supply of a -convenient fiction--his pliability stopped. He spoke to Markart, using -him as a conduit-pipe--the words would flow through to General -Stenovics. - -"If the General doesn't want to see me now--and I can understand that he -mustn't be caught confabbing with any supposed parties to the -affair--you must make it plain to him how matters stand. Somehow and by -some means our dear Hercules must be saved. Hercules is an ass; but so -are most of the men--and all the rowdies of Slavna. They love their -Hercules, and they won't let him die without a fight--and a very big -fight. In that fight what might happen to his Royal Highness the -Commandant? And if anything did happen to him, what might happen to -General Stenovics? I don't know that either, but it seems to me that -he'd be in an awkward place. The King wouldn't be pleased with him; and -we here in Slavna--are we going to trouble ourselves about the man who -couldn't save our Hercules?" - -Round-faced Markart nodded in a perplexed fashion. Stafnitz clapped him -on the shoulder with a laugh. - -"For Heaven's sake don't think about it or you'll get it all mixed! Just -try to remember it. Your only business is to report what I say to the -General." - -Rastatz sniggered shrilly. When the wine was not in him, he was a -cunning little rogue--a useful tool in any matter which did not ask for -courage. - -"If I'd been here, Mistitch wouldn't have done the thing at all--or done -it better. But what's done is done. And we expect the General to stand -by us. If he won't, we must act for ourselves--for there'll be no -bearing our dear Commandant if we sit down under the death of Mistitch. -In short, the men won't stand it." He tapped Markart's arm. "The General -must release unto us Barabbas!" - -The man's easy self-confidence, his air of authority, surprised neither -of his companions. If there were a good soldier besides the Commandant -in Slavna, Stafnitz was the man; if there were a head in Kravonia cooler -than Stenovics's, it was on the shoulders of Stafnitz. He was the brain -to Mistitch's body--the mind behind Captain Hercules's loud voice and -brawny fist. - -"Tell him not to play his big stake on a bad hand. Mind you tell him -that." - -"His big stake, Colonel?" asked Markart. "What do I understand by that?" - -"Nothing; and you weren't meant to. But tell Stenovics--he'll -understand." - -Rastatz laughed his rickety giggle again. - -"Rastatz does that to make you think he understands better than you do. -Be comforted--he doesn't." Rastatz's laugh broke out again, but now -forced and uneasy. "And the girl who knocked Sterkoff out of time--I -wish she'd killed the stupid brute--what about her, Markart?" - -"She's--er--a very remarkable person, Colonel." - -"Er--is she? I must make her acquaintance. Good-bye, Markart." - -Markart had meant to stay for half an hour, but he went. - -"Good-bye, Rastatz." - -Rastatz had just ordered another _liqueur_; but, without waiting to -drink it, he too went. Stafnitz sat on alone, smoking his cigar. There -were no signs of care on his face. Though not gay, it was calm and -smooth; no wrinkles witnessed to worry, nor marred the comely remains -of youth which had survived his five and thirty years. - -He finished his cigar, drank his coffee, and rose to go. Then he looked -carefully round the terrace, distinguished the prettiest woman with a -momentarily lingering look, made his salute to a brother officer, and -strolled away along the boulevard. - -Before he reached the barracks in St. Michael's Square he met a woman -whose figure pleased him; she was tall and lithe, moving with a free -grace. But over her face she wore a thick veil. The veil no doubt -annoyed him; but he was to have other opportunities of seeing Sophy's -face. - - - - -VI - -"IMPOSSIBLE" OR "IMMEDIATE"? - - -Stenovics was indeed in a quandary. Mistitch had precipitated an -unwelcome and premature crisis. The Minister's deliberate, slow-moving -game was brought to a sudden issue which he was not ready to face. It -had been an essential feature--a governing rule--of his campaign to -avoid any open conflict with the Prince of Slavna until an occasion -arose on which both the army and the King would be on his side. The King -was a power not merely by reason of his cheaply won popularity, but also -because he was, while he lived, the only man who could crown Stenovics's -operations with the consummation to which the Minister and his ally, -Countess Ellenburg, looked forward with distant yet sanguine hope. The -army was with him now, but the other factor was lacking. The King's -pride, as well as his affection, was enlisted in his son's interest. -Moreover, this occasion was very bad. - -Mistitch was no better than an assassin; to take up arms on his behalf -was to fight in a cause plainly disgraceful--one which would make -success very difficult and smirch it forever and beyond remedy, even if -it came. It was no cause in which to fight both Prince and King. That -would be playing the big stake on a bad hand--as Stafnitz put it. - -Yet the alternative? Stafnitz, again, had put that clearly. The army -would have no more to do with the man who could not help it at the -pinch, who could not save its favorite, who could not release Barabbas. - -The Prince seemed to be in his most unyielding mood--the Bourbon in him -was peeping out. For the honor of the Royal House, and for the sake of -discipline, Mistitch must die. He had packed his court-martial with the -few trustworthy friends he had among the officers, using the -justification which jury-packers always use--and sometimes have. He had -no fear of the verdict--and no heed for its unpopularity. He knew the -danger--Stenovics made no secret about that--but said plainly that he -would sooner be beaten by a mutiny than yield to the threat of one. The -first meant for him defeat, perhaps death, but not dishonor, nor -ignominy. The more Stenovics prophesied--or threatened--a revolt of the -troops, the more the Commandant stiffened his neck. - -Meanwhile, Slavna waited in ominous, sullen quiet, and the atmosphere -was so stormy that King Alexis had no heart for fishing. - -On Friday morning--the day before that appointed for Mistitch's -trial--the names of the members of the Court were published; the list -met with the reception which was, no doubt, anticipated even by the -Prince himself. The streets began to fill with loiterers, talkers, and -watchers; barrack-rooms were vociferous with grumbling and with -speculation. Stafnitz, with Rastatz always at his heels, was busy with -many interviews; Stenovics sat in his room, moodily staring before him, -seeking a road out of his blind alley; and a carriage drew up before the -sign of the Silver Cock as the Cathedral bells chimed noon. It was empty -inside, but by the driver sat Peter Vassip, the Prince's personal -attendant, wearing the sheepskin coat, leather breeches, and high boots -that the men of the hills wore. His business was to summon Sophy to -Suleiman's Tower. - -The Square of St. Michael was full of life and bustle, the Golden Lion -did a fine trade. But the centre of interest was on the north wall and -the adjacent quays, under the shadow of Suleiman's Tower. Within those -walls were the two protagonists. Thence the Prince issued his orders; -thither Mistitch had been secretly conveyed the night before by a party -of the Prince's own guard, trustworthy Volsenians. - -A crowd of citizens and soldiers was chattering and staring at the Tower -when Sophy's carriage drew up at the entrance of the bridge which, -crossing the North River, gave access to the fort. The mouth of the -bridge was guarded by fifty of those same Volsenians. They had but to -retreat and raise the bridge behind them, and Mistitch was safe in the -trap. Only--and the crowd was quick enough to understand the -situation--the prisoner's trap could be made a snare for his jailer, -too. Unless provisions could be obtained from the country round, it -would be impossible to hold the Tower for long against an enemy -controlling the butchers' and bakers' shops of Slavna. Yet it could be -held long enough to settle the business of Captain Hercules. - -The shadow of the weeping woman had passed from Sophy's spirit; the sad -impression was never the lasting one with her. An hour of crisis always -found her gay. She entered the time-worn walls of Suleiman's Tower with -a thrill of pleasure, and followed Peter Vassip up the narrow stair with -a delighted curiosity. The Prince received her in the large round room, -which constituted the first floor of the central tower. Its furniture -was simple, almost rude, its massive walls quite bare save for some -pieces of ancient armor. Narrow slits, deep-set in the masonry, served -for windows and gave a view of the city and of the country round on -every side; they showed the seething throng on the north wall and on the -quays; the distant sound of a thousand voices struck the ear. - -Zerkovitch and his wife were with the Prince, seated over a simple meal, -at which Sophy joined them. Marie had watched Sophy's entrance and the -Prince's greeting closely; she marked Sophy's excitement betrayed in the -familiar signal on her cheek. But the journalist was too excited on his -own account to notice other people. He was talking feverishly, throwing -his lean body about, and dashing his hands up and down; he hardly paused -to welcome the newcomer. He had a thousand plans by which the Prince was -to overcome and hold down Slavna. One and all, they had the same defect; -they supposed the absence of the danger which they were contrived to -meet. They assumed that the soldiers would obey the Commandant, even -with the sound of the rifles which had shot Mistitch fresh in their -ears. - -The Prince listened good-humoredly to his enthusiastic but highly -unpractical adherent; but his mind did not follow the talk. Sophy -hearkened with the eagerness of a novice--and he watched her face. Marie -watched his, remembering how she had prayed Sophy not to come to Slavna. -Sophy was here--and Fate had thrown her across the Prince's path. With a -woman's preference for the personal, Marie was more occupied with this -situation than with the temper of the capital or the measures of the -Prince. - -At last their host roused himself, and patted Zerkovitch's shoulder -indulgently. - -"Well, it's good not to fear," he said. "We didn't fear the other night, -Mademoiselle de Gruche and I. And all ended well!" - -"Ended?" Marie murmured, half under her breath. - -The Prince laughed. "You sha'n't make me afraid," he told her, "any more -than Zerkovitch shall make me trust Colonel Stafnitz. I can't say more -than that." He turned to Sophy. "I think you'd better stay here till we -see what's going to happen to-night--and our friends here will do the -same. If all's quiet, you can go home to sleep. If not, we can give you -quarters--rough ones, I'm afraid." He rose from the table and went to a -window. "The crowd's thinner; they've gone off to eat and drink. We -shall have one quiet hour, at all events." - -An orderly entered and gave him a letter. - -He read it, and said: "Tell General Stenovics I will receive him here at -two o'clock." When the messenger had gone, he turned round towards the -table. "A last appeal, I suppose! With all the old arguments! But the -General has nothing to give in exchange for Mistitch. My price would be -very high." - -"No price! no price!" cried fiery Zerkovitch. "He raised his sword -against you! He must die!" - -"Yes, he must die." He turned to the window again. Sophy rose from the -table and joined him there, looking over the city. Directly beneath was -the great gate, flanked on either side by broad, massive walls, which -seemed to grow out of the waters of the river. He was aware of her -movement, though he had not looked round at her. "I've brought you, too, -into this trouble--you, a stranger," he said. - -"You don't think I'm sorry for that?" - -"No. But it makes my impotence worse." He waved his arm towards the -city. "There it is--here am I! And yet--I'm powerless!" - -Sophy followed his gesture, and understood what was passing in his -mind--the pang of the soldier without his armament, the workman without -his tools. Their midnight talk flashed back into recollection. She -remembered his bitter complaint. Under her breath, and with a sigh, she -whispered: "If you had the big guns now!" - -Low as the whisper was, he heard it--and it seemed to shoot through his -brain. He turned sharply round on her and gazed full into her eyes. So -he stood a moment, then quickly returned to the table and sat down. -Sophy followed, her gaze fixed on his face. Zerkovitch ceased -writing--he had been drawing up another plan; both he and Marie now -watched the Prince. Moments went by in silence. - -At last the Prince spoke--in a low voice, almost dreamy. "My guns for -Mistitch! Mistitch against my guns! That would be a price--a fair -price!" - -The three sat silent. The Zerkovitches, too, had heard him talk of the -guns: how on them hung the tranquillity of the city, and how on them -might hang the country's honor and existence. Stenovics could give them, -if he would, in return for Mistitch. But to give up Mistitch was a great -surrender. Sophy's whisper, almost involuntary, the voicing of a regret, -hardly even of a distant aspiration, had raised a problem of conduct, a -question of high policy. The Prince's brain was busy with it, and his -mind perplexed. Sophy sat watching him, not thinking now, but waiting, -conscious only that by what seemed almost chance a new face had, through -her, been put on the situation. - -Suddenly Zerkovitch brought his clinched fist down on the table. "No!" -he almost shouted. "They'll think you're afraid!" - -"Yes, they'll think that--but not all of them. Stenovics will know -better--and Stafnitz, too. They'll know I do it, not because I'm afraid, -but in order that I never need be." - -"Then Stenovics won't give them!" cried Marie. - -"I think he must give anything or everything for Mistitch." He rose and -paced restlessly about the room. Sophy still followed him with her eyes, -but she alone of the three offered no argument and made no suggestion. -The Prince stood still for a moment in deep thought. Then his face -cleared. He came quickly up to Sophy, took her hand, and kissed it. - -"Thank you," he said. "I don't know how it will turn out for me; the -case is too difficult for me to be able to foresee that. For me it may -be mastery--I always thought it would mean that. Or perhaps, somehow, it -may turn to ruin." He pressed Sophy's hand now and smiled at her. She -understood and returned his smile. "But the question isn't one of my -interest. My duty is plain." - -He walked quickly to his writing-table and unlocked a drawer. He -returned to the table with an envelope in his hand, and sat down between -Marie and Zerkovitch. - -The orderly entered again, announcing Stenovics. "Let him come in here," -said the Prince. His manner grew lighter, and the smile which had -comforted Sophy remained on his face. - -Stenovics came in; his air was nervous, and he looked at the Prince's -three companions with a visible access of embarrassment. At a nod from -the Prince, the orderly placed a chair for the General, and withdrew. - -"The same matter we discussed last night, General?" - -"There can be but one matter in the thoughts of all of us now, sir. -Pardon me--I understood your Royal Highness would receive me alone." - -The Prince gave a low laugh. "When one bargains, shouldn't one have -witnesses?" - -In an instant Stenovics laid hold of the significant word; it made him -forget his request for privacy. An eager light came into his eyes. - -"Bargains? You're ready now to--?" - -"_La nuit porte conseil._" He drew a paper from the envelope, unfolded -it, and handed it across the table. "You remember that--a memorandum I -sent to you three months ago--in my capacity as Commandant?" - -Stenovics looked at the paper. "I remember, sir." - -"It's indorsed in your hand?" - -"Yes." - -"The indorsement runs: 'Impossible.' Rather curt, General!" - -"The note was for my private use, but your Royal Highness particularly -pressed for the return of the document." - -"I did. And, after all, why use more words than necessary? One will -still be enough--but not that one." - -"I'm not following you, sir," said Stenovics. - -The Prince leaned across the table to him. "In our conversation, last -night, you asked me to do a very remarkable thing, and to get this lady -here" (he indicated Sophy) "to do it, too. You remember? We were to -think that, at night, in the Street of the Fountain, in the light of the -illuminations, Sergius Stefanovitch and Nikolas Stafnitz looked--and -sounded--just the same. I didn't see my way to that, and I didn't think -this lady would see hers. It seemed so difficult." - -Stenovics was in a strain of close attention. The paper from the -envelope crackled under the trembling of his hand. - -"Now, if we had such a memory as Lieutenant Rastatz is happy enough to -possess!" the Prince pursued. "Or if Colonel Stafnitz had taken us into -his confidence about his quarrel with Captain Mistitch! All that was not -so last night. Consequently, Captain Mistitch must be tried and shot, -instead of suffering some not very severe disciplinary punishment, for -brawling in the street and having a quarrel with his superior officer." - -Stenovics marked every word, and understood the implied offer. The offer -was good enough; Stafnitz himself would not and could not ask that no -notice whatever should be taken. The trifling nature of the punishment -would in itself be a great victory. But the price? He was to hear that -in a moment. - -"Sergius Stefanovitch--Nikolas Stafnitz! Which was it, General? It's -only changing two words, yet what a difference it makes!" - -"The difference of peace to-night or--" Stenovics waved his hand towards -the city. But the Prince interrupted him. - -"Never mind that," he said, rather sharply. "That's not first in my -mind, or I should have left the matter where it rested last night. I was -thinking of the difference to Captain Mistitch--and perhaps to you, -General." - -He looked full at Stenovics, and the General's eyes fell. The Prince -pointed his finger across the table at the paper under Stenovics's -hand. - -"I'm a liberal bargainer," he said, "and I offer you a good margin of -profit. I'll change two words if you'll change one--two for you against -one for me! 'Sergius Stefanovitch' becomes 'Nikolas Stafnitz' if -'Impossible' becomes 'Immediate.'" - -Stenovics gave one slight start, then leaned back in his chair and -looked past the Prince out of the window opposite to him. - -"Make that change, and we'll settle details afterwards. I must have full -guarantees. I must see the order sent, and the money deposited in my -name and at my disposal." - -"This afternoon, sir?" - -"Wouldn't it be well to release Captain Mistitch from Suleiman's Tower -before to-night?" - -"The money is difficult to-day." - -"The release will be impossible to-morrow." - -Again Stenovics's eyes wandered to the window, and a silence followed. -Perhaps he saw the big guns already in position, dominating the city; -perhaps he listened to the hum of voices which again began to swell in -volume from the wall and from the quays. There are times when a man must -buy the present with a mortgage on the future, however onerous the terms -may be. It was danger against destruction. He put out his hand and took -from Zerkovitch a quill which the journalist was twiddling in his -fingers. He made a scratch and a scribble on the paper which the Prince -had taken from the envelope. - -"'Impossible' has become 'Immediate,' sir." - -"And 'Sergius Stefanovitch' 'Nikolas Stafnitz,'" said the Prince. He -looked at Sophy for confirmation, and she softly clapped her hands. - - - - -VII - -THE BARONESS GOES TO COURT - - -The troops of the garrison and their allies, the scum of the streets, -thought that they had scored a great victory and inflicted deep -humiliation on the unpopular martinet who ruled and harried them. They -celebrated the event with noisy but harmless revels, and when Captain -Hercules was seen about again (he submitted to a fortnight's confinement -to barracks with feelings in which thankfulness, though not gratitude, -predominated), he found his popularity with them greater than ever. But -in the higher circles--the inner ring--of the party he served, his -reception was not so cordial. Stenovics would not see him; Stafnitz saw -him only to express a most uncompromising judgment on his conduct. - -Yielding in appearance, in point of substance the Prince of Slavna had -scored heavily. The big guns were ordered from Germany. The Prince had -the money to pay for them, and they were to be consigned to him; these -were the guarantees which he had asked from Stenovics. When the guns -came--and he had agreed to make an extra payment for early delivery--his -situation would be very different. With trusty men behind them, it would -go hard with him if he were not master of Slavna, and he had already -obtained the King's sanction to raise and train a force of artillery -from among his own men in Volseni and its neighborhood. The men of -Volseni were proof against Mistitch's bragging and the subtle indulgence -by which Stafnitz held his power over the rank and file of the army. -They were true to the Prince. - -The idle King's family pride was touched; it was the one thing which -could rouse him. At his son's express request--and at that only--he -acquiesced in the release of Mistitch and his satellite Sterkoff; but he -was determined to make his own attitude clear and to do what he could to -restore the prestige of his family. The Prince said dryly that the -prestige would profit best of all by the big guns; the King was minded -to supplement their effect by something more ornate. He created a new -Order, and made his son Grand Master of it. There was no harm in that, -and Stenovics readily consented. He declared that something more must be -done for the lady to whom his son owed his life; to be made Keeper of -the Tapestries might be a convenient recompense, but was not honor -enough. Stenovics declared that any mark of favor which His Majesty -designed for Mademoiselle de Gruche might most properly be hers. -Finally, the King instructed Stenovics to concentrate all his energies -on the matrimonial negotiations. A splendid marriage would enhance and -strengthen the prestige more than anything else. Stenovics promised -zealous obedience, and withdrew full of thought. The Order was an easy -matter, and honors for Sophy did no harm. The marriage was ground much -more delicate. It touched the "big stake" which Colonel Stafnitz had so -emphatically warned the General not to play on the bad hand dealt to him -by Mistitch's blundering. But with the big guns in position, and the -sturdy men of Volseni behind them--would a good hand ever come? - -There were but three in the inner secret of the scheme, but they were -three of the longest heads in Kravonia. Countess Ellenburg was a pious -woman and of exemplary demeanor; but (as Markart told Sophy) women are -ambitious, and she had borne the King a son. Stenovics saw himself cast -aside like an old glove if Prince Sergius came to the throne. Stafnitz -was a born fisher in troubled waters, and threw a skilful net. Twice -before in the country's history, intrigue had made revolution, and -changed the order of succession in the House of Stefanovitch. The three -waited on chance, but the chance was not yet. If the King were at enmity -with his son, or if there were a demise of the Crown while the Prince -was not on the spot to look after his interests, there might lie the -opportunity. But now the King was all cordiality for his Heir Apparent, -the Prince was on the spot; the guns and their Volsenian gunners -threatened to be on the spot, too, ere long. It was not now the moment -for the big stake. - -King Alexis was delighted with his new Order, and the Grand Master's -insignia were very handsome. In the centre of a five-pointed star St. -Michael slew the Dragon--a symbol, perhaps, of Captain Mistitch! The -broad ribbon was of virgin white; it would show up well against either -the black sheepskin of the Volsenian tunic or the bright blue of the -Prince's hussar uniform. There were, some day, to be five other Knights; -with the Grand Master and the Sovereign himself the mystic number Seven -would be reached--but it would never be exceeded; the Order would be -most select. All this the King explained in a florid speech, gleeful -with his new toy, while the serious folks listened with a respectful -deference and a secret smile. "If he would make order, instead of -Orders!" thought the Prince; and probably Colonel Stafnitz, in -attendance as his Majesty's aide-de-camp, had thoughts not very -different. Yet, even toys take on a significance when grown-up people -play with them. Countess Ellenburg was not pleased that only one -appointment should be made to the Order of St. Michael. Was it not time -that the pretty boy Alexis wore a Star? - -The King had not done yet; there was honor for the Prince's friends, -too; men should know that service to the Royal House was meritorious in -proportion to the illustrious position of that House. Zerkovitch stood -forward and was made Chevalier of the Cross of Kravonia. The occasion -cost Zerkovitch the price of a Court suit, but for Marie's sake he bore -the outlay patiently. Then the King, having refreshed himself with a -draught which his valet Lepage brought him, turned to his most pleasing -task. The Keeper of the Tapestries was called from her place in the -circle beside Marie Zerkovitch. Colonel Stafnitz had not noticed her -standing there, but now he gave a little start; the figure seemed -familiar. He turned his head round to Markart, who was just behind him. -"Yes, that's her," Markart whispered in answer to the question in the -Colonel's eyes. The eyes flew back to Sophy instantly. There, too, was -set the gaze of Countess Ellenburg. For Sophy was in full beauty that -day. She, too, loved toys; and her ancient hatred of the name to which -she had been born must be remembered. Her eyes glowed, and the Red Star -glowed on her cheek. All her air was triumphant as she courtesied to the -King, and then stood, erect and proud, to hear his gracious words. - -Gracious his words were for her deed, and gracious his smile for her -comely beauty. He could at least look a king--no man denied him -that--and speak in kingly phrases. "A service unmatched in courage, and -immeasurable in importance to us and our Royal House, the preservation -of our dearly loved son and only Heir." (Countess Ellenburg looked down -her nose at that!) For such an act did he confer a patent of nobility on -Sophy, and for greater honor gave her, as title the name of one of his -own estates, together with a charge on its revenues equal to her new -dignity. - -He ended and sank back in his chair. Her Prince came forward and kissed -her hand before them all. Countess Ellenburg bowed condescendingly. A -decorous murmur of applause filled the hall as, with shining eyes, -Sophia, Baroness Dobrava, courtesied again very low. - -So, as Sophy Grouch had gone, went Sophie de Gruche! - -"She's delighted--poor child!" whispered Marie Zerkovitch; but only -Julia Robins, in England far away, heard the full torrent of Sophy's -simple, child-like exultation. Such a letter went to her that -night!--but there was stuff in it besides the Baroness's paean. - -Suddenly a childish voice rang out clear through the hall--a fearless, -eager little voice. - -"What's that you've got on your cheek?" asked young Alexis, with -engaging candor; his finger pointed at Sophy's face. - -So quaint an interruption to the stately formality of the scene struck -people's sense of humor. Everybody laughed--even Countess Ellenburg. -Sophy's own laugh rose rich and merry. Her ignorance or carelessness of -etiquette betrayed itself; she darted at the pretty boy, caught him in -her arms, and kissed him, answering: "That's my luck--my Red Star." - -The boy touched the mark with his finger; a look of childish awe came -into his blue eyes. - -"Your luck!" he said, softly, and continued to look at the mysterious -sign after Sophy had set him down again. The little scene was told all -over Slavna before night--and men and women talked, according to their -temper, of the nature and the meaning of the Red Star. If only the -foolish think about such things, even the wise talk. - -The King left his chair and mingled with his guests. His movement was -the signal for a general relaxation of ceremony. The Prince came across -the room and joined Sophy, who had returned to Marie Zerkovitch's side. -He offered the Baroness his congratulations, but in somewhat constrained -tones. His mind seemed to be on something else; once or twice he looked -inquiringly at Marie, who in her turn showed signs of restlessness or -distress. A silence followed on Sophy's expression of her -acknowledgments. The Prince glanced again at Marie and made up his mind -to speak. - -"You've done me the kindness I asked?" he inquired of Marie. - -Marie picked at the feathers of her fan in unhappy embarrassment. "No, -sir, I haven't. I--I couldn't." - -"But why not?" he asked in surprise. - -"I--I couldn't," repeated Marie, flushing. - -He looked at her gravely for a moment, then smiled. "Then I must plead -my own cause," he said, and turned to Sophy. "Next week I'm leaving -Slavna and going to my Castle of Praslok. It's near Volseni, you know, -and I want to raise and train my gunners at Volseni. We must be ready -for our guns when they come, mustn't we?" - -His eyes met hers--eager glance exchanged for glance as eager. "Our -guns!" whispered Sophy under her breath. - -"Marie here and Zerkovitch have promised to come with me. He'll write -what ought to be written, and she'll cook the dinners." He laughed. "Oh, -well, we do live very simply at Praslok. We shall be there three months -at least. I asked Marie to persuade you to come with her and to stay as -long as you could. But she's disappointed me. I must plead for myself." - -The changing expressions of Sophy's eyes had marked every sentence of -his speech, and Marie marked every expression of the eyes. They had -grown forlorn and apprehensive when he spoke of leaving Slavna; a sudden -joy leaped into them at his invitation to Praslok. - -"You'll come for a little? The scenery is very fine, and the people -interesting." - -Sophy gave a low laugh. "Since the scenery is fine and the people -interesting--yes, Monseigneur." - -Their eyes met again, and he echoed back her laugh. Marie Zerkovitch -drew in her breath sharply. With swift insight she saw--and foresaw. She -remembered the presentiment, under whose influence she had begged Sophy -not to come to Kravonia. But fate had weighted the scales heavily -against her. The Baroness Dobrava was here. - -The Prince turned to Marie with a puzzled look. Sophy was lost in glad -anticipations. Marie met the Prince's look with a deprecating imploring -glance. He frowned a little--not in anger, but in puzzle; what she -foresaw he himself had not yet divined; he was feeling the joy without -understanding it. - -"At any rate you're not responsible now if we do freeze her to death -with our mountain snows," he said in a jest which veiled friendly -reproach. - -"No, at least I'm not responsible," Marie answered. - -There was a note in her voice now which commanded even Sophy's -pre-engaged attention. She looked sharply at her friend--and perhaps she -understood. But she did not yield to the suggestion. She drew herself up -proudly. "I'm not afraid of what may happen to me at Praslok, -Monseigneur," she said. - -A simultaneous exclamation of many voices broke across their talk. At -the other end of the room, men and women pressed into a circle round -some point of interest which could not be seen by Sophy and her -companions. A loud voice rang out in authoritative tones: "Stand back! -Stand back--and open all the windows!" - -"That's Natcheff's voice," said the Prince. Natcheff was the leading -physician of Slavna. "Somebody's fainted, I suppose. Well, the place is -stuffy enough!" - -Markart emerged from the circle, which had widened out in obedience to -the physician's orders. As he hurried past the Prince, he said: "The -King has fainted, sir. I'm going to fetch Lepage." Two or three other -men ran and opened the windows. - -"The King fainted! I never knew him do that before." - -He hastened to where his father lay, the subject of Natcheff's -ministrations. Sophy and Marie followed in his wake through the opening -which the onlookers made for him. The King showed signs of recovering, -but Natcheff's face was grave beyond even the requirements of his -profession or of his patient's rank. The next moment Lepage came up. -This man, the King's body-servant, was a small, plump person, who had -generally a weary, impassive, uninterested manner. He looked rather -uninterested even now, but his walk was very quick, and he was soon -aiding Natcheff with deft and nimble fingers. - -"This is strange, Lepage," said Natcheff. - -Lepage did not look up from his task. - -"Has it ever happened before?" - -Then Lepage did look up. He appeared to consider and to hesitate. He -glanced once at the King before he answered. - -"It's the third attack in two months," he said, at last. - -"You never told me!" The words shot sharp from Natcheff's lips. - -"That was by His Majesty's peremptory orders. He'll be angry that I've -told you now." - -"Clear the room!" ordered Natcheff, shortly. - -Slavna had plenty to talk about that night. Besides the Baroness -Dobrava's Red Star, there was the fainting fit of King Alexis! The -evening bulletin was entirely favorable; the King had quite recovered. -But many had heard Lepage's confession and seen the look that it brought -to Natcheff's face. - -Stenovics and Stafnitz rode back from the Palace to the city side by -side. The General was silent, immersed in deep thought. Stafnitz smoked -his cigarette with a light, rather mocking smile. At last, when they -were almost opposite the terrace of the Hotel de Paris, Stenovics spoke. - -"It looks like the handwriting on the wall," he said. - -"Quite so, General," Stafnitz agreed, cheerfully. "But at present -there's no evidence to show to whom, besides the King himself, the -message is addressed." - -"Or what it says?" - -"I think that's plain enough, General. I think it says that the time is -short." - -He watched his companion's face closely now. But Stenovics's mask was -stolid and unmoved; he said nothing; he contented himself with a sullen -grunt. - -"Short for the King!" pursued Stafnitz, with a shake of his head. "Short -for the Prince, perhaps! And certainly, General, uncomfortably short for -us!" - -Stenovics grunted again, and then rode on some while in silence. At -last, just as he was about to part from his companion, he made one -observation: - -"Fortunately Natcheff is a friend of mine; we shall get the best -possible information." - -"That might become of importance, no doubt, General," said Stafnitz, -smiling still. - - - - -VIII - -MONSEIGNEUR'S UNIFORM - - -Dr. Natcheff amply reassured public opinion. What information he gave to -General Stenovics, his friend, is another matter, and remained locked in -that statesman's heart. Publicly and to everybody else, from the Prince -of Slavna downward, he declared that there was no ground for -apprehension, and that the King merely needed rest and change; after a -few days of the former it was proposed to seek the latter by moving the -Court to His Majesty's country-seat at Dobrava--that estate from which -Sophy had been graciously bidden to choose her title. Meanwhile, there -was no reason why the Prince should not carry out his intention, and -proceed to the Castle of Praslok. - -Below Slavna, the main post-road--as has already been stated, there was -no railway at this time--follows the course of the River Krath for about -five miles in a southeasterly direction. It is then carried across the -stream (which continues to trend to the south) by an ancient wooden -bridge, and runs northeast for another fifteen miles, through flat -country, and past prosperous agricultural and pastoral villages, till it -reaches the marshy land bordering Lake Talti. The lake, extending from -this point to the spurs of the mountain-range which forms the frontier, -bars its farther direct progress, and it divides into two branches. The -right prong of the fork continues on the level till it reaches Dobrava, -eight miles from the point of bisection; here it inclines to the -northeast again, and, after some ten miles of steady ascent, crosses the -mountains by St. Peter's Pass, the one carriage-road over the range and -over the frontier. The left prong becomes a steep ascent directly the -bisection has occurred, rising sharply for five miles to the hill on -which the Castle of Praslok stands. Then it runs for another five miles -on a high plateau till it ends at the hill city of Volseni, which stands -on the edge of the plateau, looking down on Lake Talti and across to -Dobrava in the plain opposite. - -Beyond Volseni there is no road in the proper sense, but only cart or -bridle-tracks. Of these the principal and most frequented runs -diagonally across the valley in which Lake Talti lies, is interrupted by -the lake (at that point about a mile and a half wide), and then meets -the road from Dobrava half-way up St. Peter's Pass, and about twenty -miles across-country from Volseni. It thus forms the base of a rough and -irregular triangle of country, with the point where the Slavna road -bisects, the Pass and Volseni marking its three angles. Lake Talti is -set in the middle, backed by a chain of hills continuous everywhere -except at the indentation of the Pass. - -Though so near to Slavna in actual distance, the country is very -different from the fertile river-valley which surrounds the capital; it -is bleak and rough, a land of hill pastures and mountain woods. Its -natural features are reflected in the character of the inhabitants. The -men who count Volseni a local capital are hardier than the men of -Slavna, less given to luxury, less addicted to quarrels and riots, but -considerably more formidable opponents if once they take up arms. For -this reason, no less than on account of their devotion to him, the -Prince did well to choose this country as the recruiting-ground for his -new force of gunners. - -The Prince had been at Praslok for a week when Sophy set out to join him -there. At the last moment, Zerkovitch decided to remain in Slavna, at -least until the Court made its promised move to Dobrava: reassuring as -Dr. Natcheff was, it would do no harm to have a friendly pair of eyes -and ears in the capital so long as the King remained in residence. Thus -the two ladies were accompanied only by Peter Vassip, whom the Prince -had sent to escort them. They set out in a heavy travelling-carriage at -ten in the morning, reckoning to reach the Castle before evening fell; -their progress would never be rapid, and for the last five miles -exceedingly slow. They left the capital in complete tranquillity, and -when Sophy settled her bill at the sign of the Silver Cock, and bade -farewell to old Meyerstein, her landlord, he expressed the hope that she -would soon be back, though, indeed, his poor house was, he feared, no -fit quarters for the Baroness Dobrava. - -"I don't know whether I shall come back here, but I can never forget -your house. I shall always love it in my memory," said Sophy. - -Max von Hollbrandt had obtained leave of absence from his Legation, and -had accompanied the Prince to Praslok. The two were friends, having many -tastes in common, and not least the taste for soldiering. Besides having -the pleasure of his company, the Prince looked to obtain valuable aid -from Max in the task on which he was engaged. The young German was -amused and delighted with his expedition. Praslok is a primitive old -place. It stands on an abrupt mound, or knob, of ground by the -road-side. So steep and sudden is the ascent, that it was necessary to -build a massive causeway of wood--an inclined plane--to lead up from the -road to the gate of the square tower which forms the front of the -building; the causeway has cross-bars at short intervals, to give -foothold to the horses which, in old days, were stabled within the -walls. Recently, however, modern stables had been built on the other -side of the road, and it had become the custom to mount the causeway and -enter the Castle on foot. - -Within, the arrangements were quaint and very simple. Besides the tower -already mentioned, which contained the dining-room and two bedrooms -above it, the whole building, strictly conditioned by the shape of the -hill on which it stood, consisted of three rows of small rooms on the -ground-floor. In one row lived the Prince and his male guests, in the -second the servants, in the third the guard. The ladies were to be -accommodated in the tower above the dining-room. The rows of rooms -opened on a covered walk or cloister, which ran round the inner court of -the Castle. The whole was solidly built of gray stone--a business-like -old hill-fortress, strong by reason of its massive masonry and of the -position in which it stood. Considered as a modern residence--it had to -be treated humorously--so Max declared, and found much pleasure in it -from that point of view. The Prince, always indifferent to physical -comfort, and ever averse from luxury, probably did not realize how much -his ancestral stronghold demanded of his guests' indulgence. Old Vassip, -Peter's father, was major-domo--always in his sheepskin coat and high -boots. His old wife was cook. Half a dozen servants completed the -establishment, and of these three were grooms. The horses, in fact, -seemed to Max the only creatures whose comforts were at all on a modern -footing. But the Prince was entirely satisfied, and never so happy -anywhere as at Praslok. He loved the simple, hardy life; he loved even -more, though perhaps less consciously, the sense of being among friends. -He would not yield an inch to court popularity in Slavna; but his heart -went out to meet the unsought devotion of Volseni, the mountain town, -and its surrounding villages. Distant and self-restrained in Slavna, -here he was open, gay, and full of an almost boyish ardor. - -"It's worth coming here, just to see its effect on you," Max told him, -as the two rode back together from Volseni on the day of Sophy's -arrival. They had been at work, and the recruiting promised well. - -The Prince laughed gayly. "Coming here from Slavna is like fresh air -after an oven," he said. "No need to watch your tongue--or other -people's! You can laugh when you like, and frown when you like, without -a dozen people asking what's your motive for doing it." - -"But, really, you shouldn't have chosen a diplomatist for your -companion, sir, if you feel like that." - -"I haven't," he smiled. "I've left the diplomatist down there and -brought the soldier up. And now that the ladies are coming--" - -"Ah, now we must watch our tongues a little bit! Madame Zerkovitch is -very pretty--and the Baroness might make me absolutely poetical!" - -Least prying of men, yet Max von Hollbrandt could not resist sending -with this speech a glance at his companion--the visit of the Baroness -compelled this much tribute to curiosity. But the Prince's face was a -picture of unembarrassed pleasure. - -"Then be poetical! We'll all be poetical!" he cried, merrily. "In the -intervals of drilling, be it understood!" he added, with a laugh. - -Into this atmosphere, physical and moral--the exhilaration of keen -mountain breezes, the brightness of a winter sun, the play of high hopes -and of high spirit--came Sophy, with all her power of enjoying and her -ardor in imagining. Her mind leaped from the sad embraces of the past, -to fly to the arms of the present, to beckon gladly to the future. No -more than this had yet emerged into consciousness; she was not yet -asking how, for good or evil, she stood or was to stand towards the -Prince. Fortune had done wonderful things for her, and was doing more -yet. That was enough, and beyond that, for the moment, she was not -driven. - -The mixture of poetry and drilling suited her to perfection. She got -both when she rode over to Volseni with the Prince. Crisp snow covered -the ground, and covered, too, the roofs of the old, gray, hill-side -city--long, sloping roofs, with here and there a round-tower with a -snow-clad extinguisher atop. The town was no more than one long street, -which bayed out at the farther end into a market-place. It stood with -its back against a mountain-side, defended on the other three sides by a -sturdy wall, which only now, after five centuries, began to crumble away -at the top. - -At the city-gate bread and salt were brought to the Bailiff and his -companion, and she and he rode side by side down the long street to the -market-place. Here were two or three hundred, tall, fine fellows, -waiting their leader. Drill had not yet brought formality; on the sight -of him they gave a cheer and ran to form a ring about him. Many caught -his hand and pressed or kissed it. But Sophy, too, claimed their eyes. -It was very cold; she wore a short jacket of sable over her habit, and a -round cap of the same fur--gifts of Lady Meg's in the days of her -benevolence. She was at the pitch of pleasure and excitement. - -In a moment, a quick-witted fellow divined who she was. "The lady who -saved him! The lady who saved him!" he cried, at the full pitch of his -voice. The Prince drew himself up in the saddle and saluted her. "Yes, -the lady who saved me," he said. Sophy had the cheers now, and they -mounted to her head with fumes of intoxication. It may be guessed how -the Red Star glowed! - -"And you'll save him, if need be?" she cried--quite indiscreetly. The -Prince smiled and shook his head, but the answer was an enraptured -cheer. The hatred of Slavna was a recommendation to Volseni's increased -regard, the hint of danger a match to its fiery enthusiasm. - -"A favor, Bailiff, a favor!" cried a young man of distinguished -appearance. He seemed to be well known and to carry weight, for there -were shouts of "Hear Lukovitch! Hear Lukovitch!"--and one called, with a -laugh: "Ay, listen to the Wolf!" - -"What is it, Lukovitch?" asked the Prince. - -"Make the lady of our company, Bailiff." New cheers were raised. "Make -her a lieutenant of our artillery." - -Sophy laughed gayly. - -"I have His Majesty's authority to choose my officers," said the Prince, -smiling. "Baroness, will you be a lieutenant, and wear our sheepskins in -place of your sables there?" - -"It is your uniform, Monseigneur," Sophy answered, bowing her head. - -Lukovitch sprang forward and kissed her hand. - -"For our Bailiff's preserver as for our Bailiff, men of Volseni!" he -cried, loudly. The answering cheer brought tears to Sophy's sparkling -eyes. For a moment she could not see her Prince nor the men who thus -took her to their hearts. - -Suddenly, in the midst of her exultation, she saw a face on the -outskirts of the throng. A small, spare man stood there, dressed in -unobtrusive tweeds, but making no effort to conceal himself; he was just -looking on, a stranger to the town, interested in the picturesque little -scene. The face was that of Lieutenant Rastatz. - -She watched the drilling of the gunners, and then rode back with the -Prince, escorted beyond the gates by a cheering throng, which had now -been joined by many women. Dusk was falling, and the old, gray city took -on a ghostly look; the glory of the sunshine had departed. Sophy -shivered a little beneath her furs. - -"Monseigneur, did you see Rastatz?" she asked. - -"No, I didn't see him; but I knew he was here. Lukovitch told me -yesterday." - -"And not in uniform!" - -"He has leave, no doubt, and his uniform wouldn't make his stay in -Volseni any more pleasant." - -"What's he there for?" she asked, fretfully. - -"Ah, Baroness, you must inquire of those who sent him, I think." His -tone was light and merry. - -"To spy on you, I suppose! I hate his being there. He--he isn't worthy -to be in dear Volseni." - -"You and Volseni have fallen in love with each other, I see! As for -spying, all I'm doing I do openly, and all I shall do. But I don't -blame Stenovics for keeping an eye on me, or Stafnitz either. I do my -best to keep an eye on them, you know. We needn't be afraid of Rastatz, -we who have beaten Hercules Mistitch in open fight!" - -"Oh, well, away with him!" cried Sophy. "The snow's not frozen--shall we -canter home, Monseigneur?" - -Merrily they cantered through the fast falling evening, side by side. -Rastatz was out of mind now; all was out of mind save the fascination of -the crisp air, the silent suggestion of gathering night, her Prince who -rode beside her. The dark mass of the tower of Praslok rose too soon -before her unwilling eyes. She drew rein, sighing. - -"If life were just all that and nothing else!" she said, as he helped -her to dismount and the grooms took the horses. She stopped half-way up -the steep wooden causeway and turned to look back towards Volseni. The -Prince stood close by her. - -"That's good, but life has better things," he said, softly. "To ride -together is good, and to play together. But to work together is better -still, Baroness." - -For a moment Sophy was silent. Then she laughed in joy. - -"Well, I'm to wear your uniform henceforth, Monseigneur!" - -He took her hand and kissed it. Very slowly and gradually she drew it -away, her eyes meeting his as he raised his head. The heavy door at the -top of the causeway opened; Marie Zerkovitch stood there, holding a lamp -high in her hand; the sudden light flooded their faces. For a moment -more he looked at her, then went down again on his way to the stables. -Sophy ran up to where Marie Zerkovitch stood. - -"You heard our horses?" she asked, gayly. - -But there was no responsive smile on Marie's lips. For her, too, the -light had shone on those two faces, and she was sorely troubled. - -The next day again they rode together, and the next. On the third day, -Sophy rode into Volseni in the sheepskin cap and tunic, a short habit of -blue hiding her leather breeches and coming half-way over her long -boots. The Prince gave her his hand as they rode into the market-place. - -Marie Zerkovitch trembled, Max von Hollbrandt shrugged his shoulders -with a laugh--and little Rastatz drove back to Slavna through the night. -He thought that he had seen enough for his purposes; his report might be -useful in the city on the Krath. - - - - -IX - -COUNTESS ELLENBURG PRAYS - - -In Slavna, Dr. Natcheff continued his reassuring reports until the -public at large was so reassured as to ask for no more reports even of -the most optimistic description. But the state of mind of the few people -behind the scenes was very different. Stafnitz's conclusion held sway -there. The time was short! That was the ruling thought and the governing -fact. It might be very short; and the end might come without warning. -The secret was well kept, but to those to whom he spoke at all Natcheff -spoke openly. The King's life hung on a thread, which the least accident -might break. With perfect quiet and tranquillity he might live a year, -possibly two years; any shock or overstrain would precipitate the end. -Countess Ellenburg and her confidential friends knew this, the King knew -it himself, and Lepage his valet, knew it. There the possession of the -secret stopped. - -The King was gay and courageous; courage, at least, he had never lacked. -He seemed almost indifferent. The best years were over, he said, and why -not an end? An end swift, without pain, without waiting! There was much -to be said for it. Lepage agreed with his master and told him so in his -usual blunt fashion; they agreed together not to cry about it, and the -King went fishing still. But the time was short, and he pushed on his -one great idea with a zeal and an earnestness foreign to his earlier -habit. He would see his son married, or at least betrothed, before he -died; he would see the great marriage in train--the marriage which was -to establish forever the rank and prestige of the House of Stefanovitch. -The Prince of Slavna must set forth on his travels, seeking a wife; the -King even designated a Princess of most unquestionable exaltedness, as -the first object of his son's attentions or pursuit. With an unusual -peremptoriness, and an unusual independence, he sent Stenovics orders to -communicate his wishes directly to the Prince. Stenovics received the -royal memorandum on the day on which Lieutenant Rastatz returned to -Slavna with the fruits of his observation at Volseni in his hand. - -At first sight the King's commands were totally at variance with the -interests of the Ellenburg coterie, and with the progress of their great -plan. They did not want the House of Stefanovitch strengthened and -glorified in the person of its present Heir Apparent. But the matter was -more complicated than a first glance showed. There were the guns to be -considered as well--and the gunners training at Volseni; these would be -sources of strength and prestige to the Prince, not less valuable, more -tangible, than even a great match. And now the Prince was on the spot. -Send him on his travels! The time was short; when the short time ended, -he might be far away. Finally, he might go and yet take nothing by his -journey; the exalted Princess would be hard to win; the King's family -pride might defeat itself by making him pitch his hopes and his claims -too high. - -On the whole the matter was difficult. The three chief conspirators -showed their conviction of this in their characteristic ways. Countess -Ellenburg became more pious than ever; General Stenovics more silent--at -least more prone to restrict his conversation to grunts; Colonel -Stafnitz more gay and interested in life; he, too, was fishing, and in -his favorite waters, and he had hopes of a big rise. - -There was one contingency impossible to overlook. In spite of his -father's orders, the Prince might refuse to go. A knowledge of the state -of the King's health would afford him a very strong excuse, a suspicion -of the plans of the coterie an overpowering motive. The King himself had -foreseen the former danger and feared its effect on his dominant hopes; -by his express command the Prince was kept in ignorance; he had been -amply reassured by Dr. Natcheff. On the latter point the coterie had, -they flattered themselves, nothing to fear. On what ground, then, could -the Prince justify a refusal? His gunners? That would be unwarrantable; -the King would not accept the plea. Did Rastatz's report suggest any -other ground for refusal? If it did, it was one which, to the King's -mind, would seem more unwarrantable still. - -There is no big game without its risk; but after full consideration, -Stenovics and Stafnitz decided that the King's wishes were in their -interest, and should be communicated to the Prince without delay. They -had more chances for them than against them. If their game had its -dangers--well, the time might be very short. - -In these days Countess Ellenburg made a practice of shutting herself up -in her private rooms for as much as two additional hours every day. She -told the King that she sought a quiet time for meditation and prayer. -King Alexis shrugged his shoulders; meditation wouldn't help matters, -and, in face of Dr. Natcheff's diagnosis of the condition of his heart, -he must confess to a serious doubt even about prayer. He had outlived -his love for the Countess, but to the end he found in her a source of -whimsical amusement; divining, if not her ambitions, at least her -regrets; understanding how these regrets, when they became very acute, -had to be met by an access of piety. Naturally they would be acute now, -in view of Natcheff's diagnosis. He thanked her for her concern, and -bade her by all means go and pray. - -What was the stuff of her prayers--the stuff behind the words? No doubt -she prayed for her husband's life. No doubt she prayed for her son's -well-being. Very likely she even prayed that she might not be led into -temptation, or to do anything wrong, by her love for her son; for it was -her theory that the Prince himself would ruin his own chances, and throw -the Crown away. It is not easy always to be sure of conscious -insincerity. - -Yet the devil's advocate would have had small difficulty in placing a -fresh face on her prayers, in exhibiting what lay below the words, in -suggesting how it was that she came forth from her secret devotions, not -happy and tranquillized, but with weary eyes, and her narrow lips -close-set in stern self-control. Her prayer that she might do nothing -wrong was a prayer that the Prince might do nothing right. If that -prayer were granted, sin on her part would become superfluous. She -prayed not to be led into temptation--that sounded quite orthodox; was -she to presume to suggest to Heaven the means by which temptation should -be avoided? - -Stenovics skilfully humored this shade of hypocrisy. When he spoke to -her, there were in his mouth no such words as plans or schemes or hopes -or ambitions--no, nor claims nor rights. It was always, "the -possibilities we are compelled to contemplate"--"the steps we may be -forced into taking"--"the necessities of mere self-defence"--"the -interests of the kingdom"--"the supreme evil of civil strife"--which -last most respectable phrase meant that it was much better to jockey the -Prince out of his throne than to fight him for it. Colonel Stafnitz bit -his lip and gnawed his mustache during these interviews. The Countess -saw--and hated him. She turned back to Stenovics's church-going phrases -and impassive face. Throughout the whole affair the General probably -never once mentioned to her in plain language the one and only object of -all their hopes and efforts. In the result business took rather longer -to transact--the church-going phrases ran to many syllables; but -concessions must be made to piety. Nor was the Countess so singular; we -should often forego what we like best if we were obliged to define it -accurately and aloud. - -After one of these conferences the Countess always prayed; it may be -presumed that she prayed against the misfortune of a cast-iron -terminology. Probably she also urged her views--for prayer is in many -books and mouths more of an argument than a petition--that all marriages -were on one and the same footing, and that Heaven knew naught of a -particular variety named in some countries morganatic. Of the keeping of -contracts, made contrary to the presumed views of Heaven, we are all -aware that Churches--and sometimes States, too--are apt to know or count -nothing. - -Such were the woman and her mind. Some pity may go out to her. In the -end, behind all her prayers, and inspiring them--nay, driving her to -her knees in fear--was the conviction that she risked her soul. When she -felt that, she pleaded that it was for her son's sake. Yet there lay -years between her son and man's estate; the power was for some one -during those years. - -"If I had the Countess's views and temperament, I should grow -potatoes--and, if possible, grow them worse than my neighbors," said -Colonel Stafnitz. "If I lived dully, I should at least die in peace!" - -The King held a very confidential conference. It was to sign his will. -The Countess was there; the little boy, who moved in happy -unconsciousness of all the schemes which centred round him, was sent -into the next room to play with Lepage. Stenovics and Stafnitz were -present as witnesses, and Markart as secretary. The King touched lightly -on his state of health, and went on to express his conviction of the -Prince of Slavna's distinguished consideration for Countess Ellenburg -and fraternal affection for little Alexis. "I go the happier for being -sure of this, gentlemen," he said, to his two counsellors. "But in any -case the Countess and my son are well secured. There will be enough for -you, Charlotte, to live in suitable style, here or abroad, as you -please. My son I wish to stay here and enter my army. I've settled on -him the estate of Dobrava, and he will have means equal to his station. -It's well to have this arranged; from day to day I am in the hands of -God." - -As with another King, nothing in life became him like the leaving of it. -There was little more work to do--he had but to wait with courage and -with dignity. The demand now was on what he had in abundance, not on a -faculty which he had always lacked. He signed the document, and bade the -General and Stafnitz witness it. In silence they obeyed him, meaning to -make waste-paper of the thing to which they set their names. - -That business done--and the King alone seemed happy in the doing of it -(even Stafnitz had frowned)--the King turned suddenly to Stenovics. - -"I should like to see Baroness Dobrava. Pray let her be sent for this -afternoon." - -The shock was sudden, but Stenovics's answer came steady, if slow. - -"Your Majesty desires her presence?" - -"I want to thank her once again, Stenovics. She's done much for us." - -"The Baroness is not in Slavna, sir, but I can send for her." - -"Not in Slavna? Where is she, then?" - -He asked what the whole kingdom knew. Save himself, nobody was ignorant -of Sophy's whereabouts. - -"She is on a visit to his Royal Highness at Praslok, sir." Stenovics's -voice was a triumph of neutrality. - -"On a visit to the Prince?" Surprise sounded in his voice. - -"Madame Zerkovitch is there too, sir," Stenovics added. "The ladies have -been there during the whole of the Prince of Slavna's stay." - -The King shot a glance at Countess Ellenburg; she was looking prim and -grim. He looked, also, at Stafnitz, who bit his mustache, without quite -hiding an intentional but apparently irrepressible smile. The King did -not look too grave--and most of his gravity was for Countess Ellenburg. - -"Is that--hum--at this moment, quite desirable?" he asked. - -His question met with silence; the air of all three intimated that the -matter was purely one for His Majesty. The King sat a moment with a -frown on his brow--the frown which just supplants a smile when a thing, -generally amusing and not unnatural, happens by chance to occur -inconveniently. - -Across this silence came a loud voice from the next room--Lepage's -voice. "Take care, take care! You'll upset the flowers, Prince!" - -The King started; he looked round at his companions. Then he struck a -hand-bell on the table before him. Lepage appeared. - -"Lepage, whom did you address as 'Prince' just now?" - -"Count Alexis, sir." - -"Why?" - -"The Count insisted." - -"Don't do it again. It's absurd! Go away!" - -A dull red patched Countess Ellenburg's cheeks. Lids brooded low over -the eyes of Stafnitz and of Stenovics. It was a very awkward little -scene--the King's irritation had got the better of him for the moment. -What would the kindred of the exalted Princess have said? The King -turned to Countess Ellenburg and forced a smile. - -"The question of reproof is one for you, Countess," he said, frigidly. -"And now about the Baroness--No, I mean, I wanted to ask if my wishes -have been communicated to the Prince of Slavna." - -"The Prince has received them, sir. He read them in the presence of my -messenger, and requested leave to send his answer in writing, unless he -might wait on Your Majesty." - -"There are reasons why I had better not see him just now. Ask him to -write--but very soon. The matter isn't one for delay." The King rose -from his seat. - -"Your Majesty still wishes me to send for Baroness Dobrava?" - -The King reflected for a moment, and answered simply: "No." - -His brief word broke up the conference--it had already lasted longer -than suave and reassuring Dr. Natcheff would have advised. The men went -away with a smile, all of them--the King, Stenovics, Stafnitz, -round-faced Markart--each smiling according to the quality of each, -their smiles answering to Max von Hollbrandt's shrug of the shoulders. -There are things which bring men to what painful youth was taught to -call the least common denominator. A horse-race does it, a prize-fight, -a cricket-match, a battle, too, in some sort. Equally efficacious, very -often, though it is to be recorded with reluctance, is a strong -flirtation with no proper issue obvious. - -The matter was grave, yet all the men laughed. The matter was grave, and -Countess Ellenburg did not laugh. Was that what Stafnitz called her -views and her temperament? In part, no doubt. Besides, men will laugh at -the side-issues of the gravest affairs; it is not generally the case -with woman. Added again to this, perhaps Countess Ellenburg knew more, -or divined more. Among glaring diversity there was, perhaps, -something--an atom--of similarity between her and Sophy--not the -something which refuses, but the something which couples high conditions -with assent. The thousandth chance is to most men negligible; to most -women it is no worse than the tenth; their sense of mathematical odds is -sorely--and sometimes magnificently--imperfect. - -It had flashed across Countess Ellenburg's mind that maybe Sophy, too, -played for a big stake--or, rather, lived for it and so would die. The -men had not thought of that; to them, the violent flirtation had its -obvious end and its passing inconvenience. It might delay the Prince's -departure for a while; it might make his marriage more entirely an -affair of duty and of state. With this idea they smiled and shrugged; -the whole business came under the head which, in their thoughts and -their confidential conversations, they would style nonsense. - -It was not so with the Countess. Disconcerted by that episode of Lepage -and young Alexis, more moved by the sudden appearance of Baroness -Dobrava as a factor in the game, she returned to prayer. - -What now was the form and matter of her prayer? The form must go -unformulated--and the words unconjectured. Yet she prayed so long that -she must have succeeded in putting a good face on her petitions. Without -a plausible plea nobody could have rested on their knees so long. - -It is probable that she prayed for others as she prayed for herself--she -prayed that the Prince of Slavna and the Baroness Dobrava might escape -temptation. - -Or that, if they fell--? Again it was not for her to dictate to Heaven. -Heaven had its ways of dealing with such sinners. - -Yet through all her prayers must have echoed the words: "It's absurd!" -She prayed again, most likely, against being suspected of wishing that -the man who uttered them--her husband--might soon be dead. - -The King dead--and the Prince a slave to love--to the idle hours of an -unprofitable love! It was a fine vision, and needed a vast deal of -covering with the veil of prayer. - - - - -X - -THE SOUND OF A TRUMPET - - -The Prince of Slavna's answer to the intimation of his father's wishes -was dutiful, courteous, and discreetly diplomatic. The Prince was much -occupied with his drills and other occupations; he availed himself of -Max von Hollbrandt's practised pen--the guest was glad to do his royal -host this favor. - -They talked over the sense of the reply; Max then draughted it. The -Prince did no more than amend certain expressions which the young -diplomatist had used. Max wrote that the Prince cordially sympathized -with the King's wishes; the Prince amended to the effect that he -thoroughly understood them. Max wrote that the Prince was prepared -cordially and energetically to co-operate in their realization; the -Prince preferred to be prepared to consider them in a benevolent spirit. -Max suggested that two or three months' postponement of the suggested -journey would not in itself be fatal; the Prince insisted that such a -delay was essential, in order that negotiations might be set on foot to -ensure his being welcomed with due _empressement_. Max added that the -later date would have an incidental advantage, since it would obviate -the necessity of the Prince's interrupting the important labors on which -he was engaged; the Prince said instead that, in his judgment, it was -essential, in the interests of the kingdom, that the task of training -the artillery should not be interfered with by any other object, however -well worthy of consideration that object might be. - -In the result, the draught as amended, though not less courteous or -dutiful than Max's original, was noticeably more stiff. Translate them -both into the terse and abrupt speech of every-day life, and one said: -"I'd rather not, please," while the other came at least very near to a -blank "I won't!" Max's was acquiescence, coupled with a prayer for -postponement; the Prince's was postponement first, with an accompanying -assurance of respectful consideration. - -Max was not hurt, but he felt a professional disapproval; the Prince had -said more, and shown more of his mind, than was needful; it was throwing -more cards on the table than the rules of the game demanded. - -"Mine would have done just as well," he complained to Marie Zerkovitch. -"If mine had been rejected, his could have followed. As it is, he's -wasted one or other of them. Very foolish, since just now time's his -main object!" He did not mean saving time, but protracting it. - -Marie did no more than toss her head peevishly. The author of the -original draught persevered. - -"Don't you think mine would have been much wiser--to begin with?" - -"I don't see much difference. There's little enough truth in either of -them!" she snapped. - -Max looked at her with an amused and tolerant smile. He knew quite well -what she meant. He shook his head at her with a humorous twinkle. "Oh, -come, come, don't be exacting, madame! There's a very fair allowance of -truth. Quite half the truth, I should think. He is really very anxious -about the gunners!" - -"And about what else?" - -Max spread out his hands with a shrug, but passed the question by. "So -much truth, in fact, that it would have served amply for at least two -letters," he remarked, returning to his own special point of complaint. - -Marie might well amuse the easy-going, yet observant and curious, young -man; he loved to watch his fellow-creatures under the stress of feelings -from which he himself was free, and found in the opportunities afforded -him in this line the chief interest both of his life and of his -profession. - -But Marie had gradually risen to a high, nervous tension. She was no -puritan--puritans were not common in Kravonia, nor had Paris grafted -such a slip onto her nature. Had she thought as the men in the Palace -thought when they smiled, had she thought that and no more, it is -scarcely likely that she would have thus disturbed herself; after all, -such cases are generally treated as in some sense outside the common -rules; exceptional allowances are, in fact, whether properly or not, -made for exceptional situations. Another feeling was in her mind--an -obsession which had come almost wholly to possess her. The fateful -foreboding which had attacked her from the first had now full dominion -over her; its rule was riveted more closely on her spirit day by day, as -day by day the Prince and Sophy drew closer together. Even that Sophy -had once saved his life could now no longer shake Marie's doleful -prepossession. Unusual and unlooked-for things take color from the mind -of the spectator; the strange train of events which had brought Sophy -to Praslok borrowed ominous shadows from a nervous, apprehensive -temperament. - -No such gloom brooded over Sophy. She gave herself up to the hour: the -past forgotten, the future never thought of. It was the great time of -her life. Her feelings, while not less spontaneous and fresh, were more -mature and more fully satisfied than when Casimir de Savres poured his -love at her feet. A cry of happiness almost lyrical runs through her -scanty record of these days--there was little leisure for diary or -letters. - -Winter was melting into spring, snow dwelled only on the hill-tops, Lake -Talti was unbound and sparkled in the sun; the days grew longer, yet -were far too short. To ride with him to Volseni, to hear the cheers, to -see the love they bore him, to watch him at work, to seem to share the -labor and the love--then to shake off the kindly clinging friends and -take to a mountain-path, or wander, the reins on the horses' necks, by -the margin of the lake, and come home through the late dusk, talking -often, silent often, always together in thought as in bodily -presence--was not this enough? "If I had to die in a month, I should owe -life a tremendous debt already"--that is her own summing up; it is -pleasant to remember. - -It would be enough to say--love; enough with a nature ardent as hers. -Yet, with love much else conspired. There was the thought of what she -had done, of the things to which she was a party; there was the sense of -power, the satisfaction of ambition, a promise of more things; there was -the applause of Volseni as well as the devotion of the Prince; there -was, too--it persisted all through her life--the funny, half-childish, -and (to a severe eye) urchin-like pleasure in the feeling that these -were fine doings for Sophy Grouch, of Morpingham in Essex! "Fancy _me_!" -is the indefensibly primitive form in which this delight shows in one of -the few letters bearing date from the Castle of Praslok. - -Yet it is possible to find this simple, gracious surprise at Fortune's -fancies worthy of love. Her own courage, her own catching at Fortune's -forelock, seem to have been always unconscious and instinctive. These -she never hints at, nor even begins to analyze. Of her love for the -Prince she speaks once or twice--and once in reference to what she had -felt for Casimir. "I loved him most when he left me, and when he died," -she writes. "I love him not less now because I love Monseigneur. But I -can love Monseigneur more for having loved Casimir. God bade the dear -dead die, but He bade me live, and death helped to teach me how to do -it." Again she reflects: "How wonderfully everything is _worth -while_--even sorrows!" Following which reflection, in the very next line -(she is writing to Julia Robins), comes the naive outburst: "I look just -splendid in my sheepskin tunic--and he's given me the sweetest toy of a -revolver; that's in case they ever charge, and try and cut us up behind -our guns!" She is laughing at herself, but the laugh is charged with an -infectious enjoyment. So she lived, loved, and laughed through those -unequalled days, trying to soothe Marie Zerkovitch, bantering Max von -Hollbrandt, giving her masculine mind and her feminine soul wholly to -her Prince. "She was like a singularly able and energetic sunbeam," Max -says quaintly, himself obviously not untouched by her attractions. - -The Prince's mind was simple. He was quite sincere about his guns; he -had no wish to go on his travels until they had arrived, and he could -deliver them into the safe custody of his trained and trusty Volsenians, -and of Lukovitch their captain. Less than that was not safety, with -Stenovics in office and Colonel Stafnitz on duty at the capital. But -Marie Zerkovitch was right, too, even though over-exacting, as Max had -told her. The letter to the King held but half the truth, and that half -not the more significant. He could not go from Sophy's side to seek a -wife. The desire of his heart and the delight of his eyes--she was here -in Praslok. - -Her charm was not only for his heart and eyes, her fascination not -solely for his passion; on his intellect also she laid her powerful -hold, opening the narrow confines of his mind to broader views, and -softening the rigor of his ideals. He had seen himself only as the stern -master, the just chastiser of a turbulent capital and an unruly -soldiery. But was there not a higher aim? Might he not be loved in the -plains as on the hills, at Slavna as at Volseni? - -By himself he could not achieve that; his pride--nay, his -obstinacy--forbade the first step. But what his sensitive dignity -rejected for himself, he could see her sunny graciousness accomplish -without loss of self-respect, naturally, all spontaneously. He was a -soldier; hers were the powers of peace, of that instinctive -statesmanship of the emotions by which hearts are won and kingdoms knit -together by a tie stronger than the sword. Because in his mind's eye he -saw her doing this, the idea at which the men in the Palace had smiled, -and which even Marie Zerkovitch would have accepted as the lesser evil, -never came into his head. In the future years she was to be openly at -his side, doing these things for him and for the land of his love and -labor. Would she not be a better partner than some stranger, to whom he -must go cap in hand, to whom his country would be a place of exile and -his countrymen seem half-barbarians, whose life with him would be one -long tale of forced and unwilling condescension? A pride more subtle -than his father's rose in revolt. - -If he could make the King see that! There stood the difficulty. Right in -the way of his darling hope was the one thing on which the King -insisted. The pride of family--the great alliance--the single point -whereon the easy King was an obstacle so formidable! Yet had he -despaired, he would have been no such lover as he was. - -His answer had gone to the King; there was no news of its reception yet. -But on the next day, in the evening, great tidings came from Slavna, -forwarded by Zerkovitch, who was in charge of the Prince's affairs -there. The Prince burst eagerly into the dining-room in the tower of -Praslok, where Sophy sat alone. He seemed full of triumphant excitement, -almost boyish in his glee. It is at such moments that hesitations are -forgotten and the last reserves broken down. - -"My guns!" he cried. "My guns! They've started on their way. They're due -in Slavna in a month!" - -"In a month!" she murmured softly. "Ah, then--" - -"Our company will be ready, too. We'll march down to Slavna and meet the -guns!" He laughed. "Oh, I'll be very pleasant to Slavna now--just as you -advise me. We'll meet them with smiles on our faces." He came up to her -and laid his hand on hers. "You've done this for me," he said, smiling -still, yet growing more grave. - -"It'll be the end of this wonderful time, of this our time together!" - -"Of our time at Praslok--not of our time together. What, won't -Lieutenant Baroness Dobrava march with her battery?" - -She smiled doubtfully, gently shaking her head. "Perhaps! But when we -get to Slavna--? Oh, I'm sorry that this time's so nearly done!" - -He looked at her gravely for a few moments, making, perhaps, a last -quick calculation--undergoing, perhaps, a last short struggle. But the -Red Star glowed against the pallor of her face; her eyes were gleaming -beacons. - -"Neither the guns, nor the men, nor Slavna--no, nor the Crown, when that -time comes--without you!" he said. - -She rose slowly, tremblingly, from her chair, and stretched out her -hands in an instinctive protest: "Monseigneur!" Then she clasped her -hands, setting her eyes on his, and whispering again, yet lower: -"Monseigneur!" - -"Marie Zerkovitch says Fate sent you to Kravonia. I think she's right. -Fate did--my fate. I think it's fated that we are to be together to the -end, Sophy." - -A step creaked on the old stairs. Marie Zerkovitch was coming down from -her room on the floor above. The door of the dining-room stood open, but -neither of them heard the step; they were engrossed, and the sound -passed unheeded. - -Standing there with hands still clasped, and eyes still bound to his, -she spoke again--and Marie Zerkovitch stood by the door and heard the -quick yet clear words, herself fascinated, unable to move or speak. - -"I've meant nothing of it. I've thought nothing of it. I seem to have -done nothing towards it. It has just come to me." Her tone took on a -touch of entreaty, whether it were to him, or to some unseen power -which ruled her life, and to which she might have to render an account. - -"Yet it is welcome?" he asked quietly. She was long in answering; he -waited without impatience, in a confidence devoid of doubt. She seemed -to seek for the whole truth and to give it to him in gravest, fullest -words. - -"It is life, Monseigneur," she said. "I can't see life without it now." - -He held out his hands, and very slowly she laid hers in them. - -"It is enough--and nothing less could have been enough from you to me -and from me to you," he said gently. "Unless we live it together, I -think it can be no life for us now." - -The chain which had held Marie Zerkovitch motionless suddenly snapped. -She rushed into the room, and, forgetful of everything in her agitation, -seized the Prince by the arm. - -"What do you mean?" she cried. "What do you mean? Are you mad?" - -He was very fond of little Marie. He looked down at her now with an -affectionate, indulgent smile. - -"Come, you've heard what I said, I suppose--though it wasn't meant for -your ears, you know! Well, then, I mean just what I said, Marie." - -"But what do you mean by it?" she persisted in a feverish, almost -childish, excitement. She turned on Sophy, too. "And what do you mean by -it, Sophy?" she cried. - -Sophy passed a hand across her brow. A slow smile relieved the enchanted -tension of her face; she seemed to smile in a whimsical surprise at -herself. Her answer to Marie came vague and almost dreamy. "I--I -thought of nothing, dear Marie," she said; then with a sudden low murmur -of delighted laughter she laid her hands in the Prince's again. She had -thought of nothing but of that life together and their love. - -"She'll share my life, Marie, and, when the time comes, my throne," the -Prince said softly: he tried to persuade and soothe her with his gentle -tones. - -Marie Zerkovitch would not have it. Possessed by her old fear, her old -foreboding, she flung away the arm she held with an angry gesture. "It's -ruin!" she cried. "Ruin, ruin!" Her voice rang out through the old room -and seemed to fill all the Castle of Praslok with its dirgeful note. - -"No," said he firmly. "Ruin will not come through me, nor through her. -It may be that ruin--what you call ruin--will come. It may be that I -shall lose my life or my throne." He smiled a little. "Such changes and -chances come as nothing new to a Stefanovitch. I have clever and bold -men against me. Let them try! We'll try, too. But ruin will not be by -her fault, nor through this. And if it were, don't I owe her my life -already? Should I refuse to risk for her the life she has given?" He -dropped his voice to homelier, more familiar tones, and ended, with a -half-laugh: "Come, little friend, you mustn't try to frighten Sergius -Stefanovitch. It's better the House should end than live on in a coward, -you know." - -The plea was not perfect--there was wisdom as well as courage in -question. Yet he would have maintained himself to be right in point of -wisdom, too, had Marie pressed him on it. But her force was spent; her -violence ended, and with it her expostulations. But not her terror and -dismay. She threw herself into a chair and covered her face with her -hands, sobbing bitterly. - -The Prince gently caressed her shaking shoulder, but he raised his eyes -to Sophy, who had stood quiet through the scene. - -"Are you ready for what comes, Sophy?" he asked. - -"Monseigneur, I am ready," she said, with head erect and her face set. -But the next instant she broke into a low yet rich and ringing laugh; it -mingled strangely with Marie's sobs, which were gradually dying away, -yet sounded still, an undertone of discord with Sophy's mirth. She -stretched out her hands towards him again, whispering in an amused pity: -"Poor child--she thought that we should be afraid!" - -Out from the dusk of the quiet evening came suddenly the blare of a -trumpet, blown from Volseni by a favoring breeze. It sounded every -evening, at nightfall, to warn the herdsmen in the hills of the closing -of the gates, and had so sounded from time beyond man's memory. - -The Prince raised his hand to bid her listen. - -"In good Volseni there is watch and ward for us!" - -The echoes of the blast rang for an instant round the hills. - -"And there is watch and ward, and the glad sound of a trumpet, in my -heart, Monseigneur," she said. - -The sobs were still, laughter was hushed, the echoes died away. In utter -silence their hands and their eyes met. Only in their hearts love's -clarion rang indomitable and marvellously glad. - - - - -XI - -M. ZERKOVITCH'S BEDROOM FIRE - - -Often there are clever brains about us of whose workings we care -nothing, save so far as they serve to the defter moving of our dishes or -the more scientific brushing and folding of our clothes. Humorists and -philosophers have described or conjectured or caricatured the world of -those who wait on us, inviting us to consider how we may appear to the -inward gaze of the eyes which are so obediently cast down before ours or -so dutifully alert to anticipate our orders. As a rule, we decline the -invitation; the task seems at once difficult and unnecessary. Enough to -remember that the owners of the eyes have ears and mouths also! A small -leak, left unstanched, will empty the largest cask at last; it is well -to keep that in mind both in private concerns and in affairs of public -magnitude. - -The King's body-servant, Emile Lepage, had been set a-thinking. This was -the result of the various and profuse scoldings which he had undergone -for calling young Count Alexis "Prince." The King's brief, sharp words -at the conference had been elaborated into a reproof both longer and -sterner than his Majesty was wont to trouble himself to administer; he -had been very strong on the utter folly of putting such ideas into the -boy's head. Lepage was pretty clear that the idea had come from the -boy's head into his, but he said nothing more of that. The boy himself -scolded Lepage--first for having been overheard, secondly (and, as -Lepage guessed, after being scolded himself very roundly) for using the -offending title at all. Meekly Lepage bore this cross also--indeed, with -some amusement, and a certain touch of pity for young Alexis, who was -not a prince and obviously could not make out why: in the books a king's -sons were always princes, even though there were (as in those glorious -days there often were) fifty or threescore of them. - -Then Countess Ellenburg scolded him: the King's "It's absurd!" was -rankling sorely in her mind. Her scolding was in her heaviest -manner--very religious: she called Heaven to witness that never, by word -or deed, had she done anything to give her boy such a notion. The days -are gone by when Heaven makes overt present answer; nothing happened! -She roundly charged Lepage with fostering the idea for his own purposes; -he wanted to set the Prince of Slavna against his little brother, she -supposed, and to curry favor with the rising sun at the poor child's -cost. - -She was very effective, but she angered Lepage almost beyond endurance. -By disposition he was thoroughly good-natured, if sardonic and -impassive; he could not suffer the accusation of injuring the pretty boy -for his own ends; it was both odious and absurd. He snapped back smartly -at her: "I hope nobody will do more to put wrong ideas in his head than -I have done, Madame la Comtesse." In a fury she drove him from the room. -But she had started ever so slightly. Lepage's alert brain jumped at the -signal. - -Finally, Stenovics himself had a lecture for poor, much-lectured Lepage. -It was one of the miscalculations to which an over-cautious cunning is -prone. Stenovics was gentle and considerate, but he was very -urgent--urgent, above all, that nothing should be said about the -episode, neither about it, nor about the other reprimands. Silence, -silence, silence was his burden. Lepage thought more and more. It is -better to put up with gossip than to give the idea that the least gossip -would be a serious offence. People gossip without thinking, it's easy -come and gone, easy speaking and easy forgetting; but stringent -injunctions not to talk are apt to make men think. References to the -rising sun, also, may breed reflection in the satellites of a setting -orb. Neither Countess Ellenburg nor General Stenovics had been as well -advised as usual in this essentially trumpery matter. - -In short, nervousness had been betrayed. Whence came it? What did it -mean? If it meant anything, could Lepage turn that thing to account? The -King's favorite attendant was no favorite with Countess Ellenburg. For -Lepage, too, the time might be very short! He would not injure the boy, -as the angry mother had believed, or at least suggested; but, without -question of that, there was no harm in a man's looking out for himself; -or if there were, Lepage was clear in thinking that the Countess and the -General were not fit preachers of such a highly exacting gospel. - -Lepage concluded that he had something to sell. His wares were a -suspicion and a fact. Selling the suspicion wronged nobody--he would -give no warranty with it--_Caveat emptor_. Selling the fact was -disobedience to the King his master. "Disobedience, yes; injury, no," -said Lepage with a bit of casuistry. Besides, the King, too, had scolded -him. - -Moreover, the Prince of Slavna had always treated Monsieur Emile Lepage -with distinguished consideration. The Bourbon blood, no doubt, stretched -out hands to _la belle France_ in Monsieur Lepage's person. - -Something to sell! Who was his buyer? Whose interest could be won by his -suspicion, whose friendship bought with his fact? The ultimate buyer was -plain enough. But Lepage could not go to Praslok, and he did not approve -of correspondence, especially with Colonel Stafnitz in practical control -of the Household. He sought a go-between--and a personal interview. At -least he could take a walk; the servants were not prisoners. Even -conspirators must stop somewhere--on pain of doing their own cooking and -the rest! At a quarter past eight in the evening, having given the King -his dinner and made him comfortable for the next two hours, Lepage -sallied forth and took the road to Slavna. He was very carefully -dressed, wore a flower in his buttonhole, and had dropped a discreet -hint about a lady, in conversation with his peers. If ladies often -demand excuses, they may furnish them too; present seriousness invoked -aid from bygone frivolity. - -At ten o'clock he returned, still most spruce and orderly, and with a -well satisfied air about him. He had found a purchaser for his suspicion -and his fact. His pocket was the better lined, and he had received -flattering expressions of gratitude and assurances of favor. He felt -that he had raised a buttress against future assaults of Fortune. He -entered the King's dressing-room in his usual noiseless and unobtrusive -manner. He was not aware that General Stenovics had quitted it just a -quarter of an hour before, bearing in his hand a document which he had -submitted for his Majesty's signature. The King had signed it and -endorsed the cover "_Urgent_." - -"Ah, Lepage, where have you been?" asked the King. - -"Just to get a little air and drink a glass at the Golden Lion." - -"You look gayer than that!" smiled the King. Evidently his anger had -passed; perhaps he wished to show as much to an old servant whom he -liked and valued. - -Conscience-stricken--or so appearing--Lepage tore the flower from his -coat. "I beg Your Majesty's pardon. I ought to have removed it before -entering your Majesty's presence. But I was told you wished to retire at -once, sir, so I hurried here immediately." - -The King gave a weary yawn. "Yes, I'll go to bed at once, Lepage; and -let me sleep as long as I can. This fag-end of life isn't very amusing." -He passed his hand wearily across his brow. "My head aches. Isn't the -room very close, Lepage? Open the window." - -"It has begun to rain, sir." - -"Never mind, let's have the rain, too. At least, it's fresh." - -Lepage opened a window which looked over the Krath. The King rose: -Lepage hastened to offer his arm, which his Majesty accepted. They went -together to the window. A sudden storm had gathered; rain was pelting -down in big drops. - -"It looks like being a rough night," remarked the King. - -"I'm afraid it does, sir," Lepage agreed. - -"We're lucky to be going to our beds." - -"Very, sir," answered Lepage, wondering whose opposite fate his Majesty -was pitying. - -"I shouldn't care, even if I were a young man and a sound one, to ride -to Praslok to-night." - -"To Praslok, sir?" There was surprise in Lepage's voice. He could not -help it. Luckily it sounded quite natural to the King. It was certainly -not a night to ride five and twenty miles, and into the hills, unless -your business was very urgent. - -"Yes, to Praslok. I've had my breath of air--you can shut the window, -Lepage." - -The King returned to the fireplace and stood warming himself. Lepage -closed the window, drew the curtains, and came to the middle of the -room, where he stood in respectful readiness--and, underneath that, a -very lively curiosity. - -"Yes," said the King slowly, "Captain Markart goes to Praslok -to-night--with a despatch for his Royal Highness, you know. Business, -Lepage, urgent business! Everything must yield to that." The King -enunciated this virtuous maxim as though it had been the rule of his -life. "No time to lose, Lepage, so the Captain goes to-night. But I'm -afraid he'll have a rough ride--very rough." - -"I'm afraid so, sir," said Lepage, and added, strictly in his thoughts: -"And so will Monsieur Zerkovitch!" - -Captain Markart was entirely of his Majesty's opinion as he set out on -his journey to Praslok. His ride would be rough, dark, and solitary--the -last by Stenovics's order. Markart was not afraid, he was well armed; -but he expected to be very bored, and knew that he would be very wet, by -the time he reached the Castle. He breathed a fervent curse on the -necessities of State, of which the Minister had informed him, as he -buttoned up his heavy cavalry overcoat, and rode across the bridge on to -the main road on the right bank, an hour before midnight. - -Going was very heavy, so was the rain, so was the darkness; he and his -horse made a blurred, laboring shape on the murky face of night. But his -orders were to hasten, and he pushed on at a sharp trot and soon covered -his first stage, the five miles to the old wooden bridge, where the road -leaves the course of the Krath, is carried over the river, and strikes -northeast, towards the hills. - -At this point he received the first intimation that his journey was not -to be so solitary as he had supposed. When he was half-way across the -bridge, he heard what sounded like an echo of the beat of his horse's -hoofs on the timbers behind him. The thing seemed odd. He halted a -moment to listen. The sound of his horse's hoofs stopped--but the echo -went on. It was no echo, then; he was not the only traveller that way! -He pricked his horse with the spur; regaining the road, he heard the -timbers of the bridge still sounding. He touched his horse again and -went forward briskly. He had no reason to associate his -fellow-traveller's errand with his own, but he was sure that when -General Stenovics ordered despatch, he would not be pleased to learn -that his messenger had been passed by another wayfarer on the road. - -But the stranger, too, was in a hurry, it seemed; Markart could not -shake him off. On the contrary, he drew nearer. The road was still broad -and good. Markart tried a canter. The stranger broke into a canter. "At -any rate, it makes for good time," thought Markart, smiling uneasily. In -fact, the two found themselves drawn into a sort of race. On they went, -covering the miles at a quick, sustained trot, exhilarating to the men, -but rather a strain on their horses. Both were well mounted. Markart -wondered who the stranger with such a good horse was. He turned his -head, but could see only the same sort of blur as he himself made; part -of the blur, however, seemed of a lighter color than his dark overcoat -and bay horse produced. - -Markart's horse pecked; his rider awoke to the fact that he was pounding -his mount without doing much good to himself. He would see whether the -unknown meant to pass him or was content to keep on equal terms. His -pace fell to a gentle trot--so did the stranger's. Markart walked his -horse for half a mile--so did the stranger. Thenceforward they went -easily, each keeping his position, till Markart came to where the road -forked--on the right to Dobrava, on the left to Praslok and Volseni. -Markart drew rein and waited; he might just as well see where the -stranger was going. - -The stranger came up--and Markart started violently. The lighter tinge -of the blur was explained. The stranger rode a white horse. It flashed -on Markart that the Prince rode a white charger, and that the animal had -been in Slavna the day before--he had seen it being exercised. He peered -into the darkness, trying to see the man's face; the effort was of no -avail. The stranger came to a stand beside him, and for a few moments -neither moved. Then the stranger turned his horse's head to the left: he -was for Praslok or Volseni, then! Markart followed his example. He knew -why he did not speak to the stranger, but he was wondering why on earth -the stranger did not speak to him. He went on wondering till it occurred -to him that, perhaps, the stranger was in exactly the same state of -mind. - -There was no question of cantering, or even of trotting, now. The road -rose steeply; it was loose and founderous from heavy rain; great stones -lay about, dangerous traps for a careless rider. The horses labored. At -the same moment, with the same instinct, Markart and the stranger -dismounted. The next three miles were done on foot, and there before -them, in deeper black, rose the gate-tower of the Castle of Praslok. The -stranger had fallen a little behind again; now he drew level. They were -almost opposite the Castle. - -A dog barked from the stables. Another answered from the Castle. Two -more took up the tune from the stables; the Castle guardian redoubled -his responsive efforts. A man came running out from the stables with a -lantern; a light flashed in the doorway of the Castle. Both Markart and -the stranger came to a stand-still. The man with the lantern raised it -high in the air, to see the faces of the travellers. - -They saw each other's faces, too. The first result was to send them into -a fit of laughter--a relief from tension, a recognition of the absurdity -into which their diplomatic caution had led them. - -"By the powers, Captain Markart!" - -"Monsieur Zerkovitch, by Heaven!" - -They laughed again. - -"Ah, and we might have had a pleasant ride together!" - -"I should have rejoiced in the solace of your conversation!" - -But neither asked the other why he had behaved in such a ridiculous -manner. - -"And our destination is the same?" asked Zerkovitch. "You stop here at -the Castle?" - -"Yes, yes, Monsieur Zerkovitch. And you?" - -"Yes, Captain, yes; my journey ends at the Castle." - -The men led away their horses, which sorely needed tending, and they -mounted the wooden causeway side by side, both feeling foolish, yet sure -they had done right. In the doorway stood Peter Vassip with his lantern. - -"Your business, gentlemen?" he said. It was between two and three in the -morning. - -They looked at each other; Zerkovitch was quicker, and with a courteous -gesture invited his companion to take precedence. - -"Private and urgent--with his Royal Highness." - -"So is mine, Peter," said Zerkovitch. - -Markart's humor was touched again; he began to laugh. Zerkovitch -laughed, too, but there was a touch of excitement and nervousness in his -mirth. - -"His Royal Highness went to bed an hour ago," said Peter Vassip. - -"I'm afraid you must rouse him. My business is immediate," said Markart. -"And I suppose yours is too, Monsieur Zerkovitch?" he added jokingly. - -"That it is," said Zerkovitch. - -"I'll rouse the Prince. Will you follow me, gentlemen?" - -Peter closed and barred the gate, and they followed him through the -court-yard. A couple of sentries were pacing it; for the rest, all was -still. Peter led them into a small room, where a fire was burning, and -left them together. Side by side they stood close to the fire; each -flung away his coat and tried to dry his boots and breeches at the -comforting blaze. - -"We must keep this story a secret, or we shall be laughed at by all -Slavna, Monsieur Zerkovitch." - -Zerkovitch gave him a sharp glance. "I should think you would report -your discreet conduct to your superiors, Captain. Orders are orders, -secrecy is secrecy, even though it turns out that there was no need for -it." - -Markart was about to reply with a joke when the Prince entered. He -greeted both cordially, showing, of course, in Markart's presence, no -surprise at Zerkovitch's arrival. - -"There will be rooms and food and wine ready for you, gentlemen, in a -few minutes. Captain Markart, you must rest here for to-night, for your -horse's sake as well as your own. I suppose your business will wait till -the morning?" - -"My orders were to lose not a moment in communicating it to you, sir." - -"Very well. You're from his Majesty?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"The King comes first--and I dare say your affair will wait, -Zerkovitch?" - -Zerkovitch protested with an eagerness by no means discreet in the -presence of a third party--an aide-de-camp to Stenovics!--"No, sir, -no--it can't wait an--" - -The Prince interrupted. "Nonsense, man, nonsense! Now go to your room. -I'll come in and bid you 'Good-night.'" He pushed his over-zealous -friend from the room, calling to Peter Vassip to guide him to the -apartment he was to occupy. Then he came back to Markart. "Now, -Captain!" - -Markart took out his letter and presented it with a salute. "Sit down -while I read it," said the Prince, seating himself at the table. - -The Prince read his letter, and sat playing with it in his fingers for -half a minute or so. Then a thought seemed to strike him. "Heavens, I -never told Peter to light fires! I hope he has. You're wet--and -Zerkovitch is terribly liable to take cold." He jumped up. "Excuse me; -we have no bells in this old place, you know." He ran out of the room, -closing the door behind him. - -Markart sprang to the door. He did not dare to open it, but he listened -to the Prince's footsteps. They sounded to the left--one, two, three, -four, five, six paces. They stopped--a door opened and shut. Markart -made a mental note and went back to the fire, smiling. He thought that -idea of his really would please General Stenovics. - -In three minutes the Prince returned. "I did Peter -injustice--Zerkovitch's fire is all right," he said. "And there's a good -one in your room, too, he tells me. And now, Captain Markart, to our -business. You know the contents of the letter you carried?" - -"Yes, sir. They were communicated to me, in view of their urgency, and -in case of accident to the letter." - -"As a matter of form, repeat the gist to me." - -"General Stenovics has to inform your Royal Highness on the King's -behalf that his Majesty sees no need of a personal interview, as his -mind is irrevocably fixed, and he orders your Royal Highness to set out -for Germany within three days from the receipt of this letter. No -pretext is to delay your Royal Highness's departure." - -"Perfectly correct, Captain. To-morrow I shall give you an answer -addressed directly to the King. But I wish now to give you a message to -General Stenovics. I shall ask the King for an audience. Unless he -appoints a time within two days, I shall conclude that he has not had -the letter, or--pray mark this--has not enjoyed an opportunity of -considering it independently. General Stenovics must consider what a -responsibility he undertakes if he advises the King to refuse to see his -son. I shall await his Majesty's answer here. That is the message. You -understand?" - -"Perfectly, sir." - -"Just repeat it. The terms are important." - -Markart obeyed. The Prince nodded his head. "You shall have the letter -for the King early in the morning. Now for bed! I'll show you to your -room." - -They went out and turned to the left. Markart counted their paces. At -six paces they came to a door--and passed it. Four farther on, the -Prince ushered him into the room where he was to sleep. It was evident -that the Prince had made personal inspection of the state of Monsieur -Zerkovitch's fire! - -"Good-night, Captain. By-the-way, the King continues well?" - -"Dr. Natcheff says, sir, that he doesn't think his Majesty was ever -better in his life." - -The Prince looked at him for just a moment with a reflective smile. "Ah, -and a trustworthy man, Natcheff! Good-night!" - -Markart did not see much reason to think that the question, the look, -the smile, and the comment had any significance. But there would be no -harm in submitting the point to General Stenovics. Pondering over this, -he forgot to count the Prince's paces this time. If he had counted, the -sum would have been just four. Monsieur Zerkovitch's fire needed another -royal inspection--it needed it almost till the break of day. - -"The King's life hangs by a hair, and your Crown by a thread." That was -the warning which Lepage had given and Zerkovitch had carried through -the night. - - - - -XII - -JOYFUL OF HEART - - -The storm had passed; day broke calm and radiant over the Castle of -Praslok; sunshine played caressingly on the lake and on the hills. - -Markart had breakfasted and paid a visit to his horse; he wanted to be -off by nine o'clock, and waited only for the Prince's letter. He was -returning from the stables, sniffing the morning air with a vivid -enjoyment of the change of weather, when he saw Sophy coming along the -road. She had been for a walk. Her eyes and cheeks glowed with -exhilaration. She wore her sheepskin tunic, her sheepskin cap with its -red cockade, and her short, blue skirt over high boots. She walked as -though on the clouds of heaven, a wonderful lightness in her tread; the -Red Star signalled the exaltation of her spirit; the glad sound of the -trumpet rang in her heart. - -Her cordial greeting to Markart was spiced with raillery, to which he -responded as well as his ignorance allowed; he was uncertain how much -she knew of the real situation. But if his tongue was embarrassed, his -eyes spoke freely. He could not keep them from her face; to him she -seemed a queen of life and joy that glorious morning. - -"You've recovered from your fright?" she asked. "Poor Monsieur -Zerkovitch is still sleeping his off, I suppose! Oh, the story's all -over the Castle!" - -"It'll be all over the country soon," said Markart with a rueful smile. - -"Well, after all, Monsieur Zerkovitch is a journalist, and journalists -don't spare even themselves, you know. And you're not a reticent person, -are you? Don't you remember all the information you gave me once?" - -"Ah, on the terrace of the Hotel de Paris! Much has happened since then, -Baroness." - -"Much always happens, if you keep your eyes open," said Sophy. - -"If you keep yours open, nothing happens for me but looking at them." - -She laughed merrily; a compliment never displeased Sophy, and she could -bear it very downright. - -"But if I were to shut my eyes, what would you do then?" - -He looked doubtfully at her mocking face; she meant a little more than -the idle words naturally carried. - -"I don't think you'll give me the chance of considering, Baroness." He -indicated her costume with a gesture of his hand. "You've entered the -service, I see?" - -"Yes, Captain Markart, the King's service. We are brethren--you serve -him, too?" - -"I have that honor." Markart flushed under her laughing scrutiny. - -"We fight shoulder to shoulder then. Well, not quite. I'm a gunner, you -see." - -"Minus your guns, at present!" - -"Not for long!" She turned round and swept her arms out towards the lake -and the hills. "It's a day to think of nothing--just to go riding, -riding, riding!" Her laugh rang out in merry longing. - -"What prevents you?" - -"My military duties, perhaps, Captain," she answered. "You're lucky--you -have a long ride; don't spoil it by thinking!" - -"I think? Oh no, Baroness! I only obey my orders." - -"And they never make you think?" Her glance was quick at him for an -instant. - -"There's danger in thinking too much, even for ladies," he told her. - -She looked at him more gravely, for his eyes were on her now with a -kindly, perhaps a remorseful, look. - -"You mean that for me?" she asked. "But if I, too, only obey my orders?" - -"With all my heart I hope they may lead you into no danger," he said. - -"There's only one danger in all the world--losing what you love." - -"Not, sometimes, gaining it?" he asked quickly. - -"Still, the only danger would be of losing it again." - -"There's life, too," he remarked with a shrug. - -"Sir, we're soldiers!" she cried in merry reproof. - -"That doesn't prevent me from prizing your life, Baroness, in the -interests of a world not too rich in what you contribute to it." - -Sophy looked at him, a subtle merriment in her eyes. "I think, Captain -Markart, that, if you were my doctor, you'd advise me to try--a change -of air! Praslok is too exciting, is that it? But I found Slavna--well, -far from relaxing, you know!" - -"The Kravonian climate as a whole, Baroness--" - -"Oh no, no, that's too much!" she interrupted. Then she said: "It's very -kind of you--yes, I mean that--and it's probably--I don't know--but -probably against your orders. So I thank you. But I can face even the -rigors of Kravonia." - -She held out her hand; he bent and kissed it. "In fact, I hadn't the -least right to say it," he confessed. "Not the least from any point of -view. It's your fault, though, Baroness." - -"Since I'm party to the crime, I'll keep the secret," she promised with -a decidedly kindly glance. To Sophy, admiration of herself always argued -something good in a man; she had none of that ungracious scorn which -often disfigures the smile of beauty. She gave a little sigh, followed -quickly by a smile. - -"We've said all we possibly can to one another, you and I; more than we -could, perhaps! And now--to duty!" She pointed to the door of the -Castle. - -The Prince was coming down the wooden causeway. He, too, wore the -Volseni sheepskins. In his hand he carried a sealed letter. Almost at -the same moment a groom led Markart's horse from the stables. The Prince -joined them and, after a bow to Sophy, handed the letter to Markart. - -"For his Majesty. And you remember my message to General Stenovics?" - -"Accurately, sir." - -"Good!" He gave Markart his hand. "Good-bye--a pleasant ride to you, -Captain--pleasanter than last night's." His grave face broke into a -smile. - -"I'm not to have Monsieur Zerkovitch's company this time, sir?" - -"Why, no, Captain. You see, Zerkovitch left the Castle soon after six -o'clock. Rather a short night, yes, but he was in a hurry." - -Sophy burst into a laugh at the dismay on Markart's face. "We neither of -us knew that, Captain Markart, did we?" she cried. "We thought he was -sleeping off the fright you'd given him!" - -"Your Royal Highness gives me leave--?" stammered Markart, his eye on -his horse. - -"Certainly, Captain. But don't be vexed, there will be no invidious -comparisons. Zerkovitch doesn't propose to report himself to General -Stenovics immediately on his arrival." - -Good-natured Markart joined in the laugh at his own expense. "I'm hardly -awake yet; he must be made of iron, that Zerkovitch!" - -"Quicksilver!" smiled the Prince. As Markart mounted, he added: "Au -revoir!" - -Markart left the two standing side by side--the Prince's serious face -lit up with a rare smile, Sophy's beauty radiant in merriment. His own -face fell as he rode away. "I half wish I was in the other camp," he -grumbled. But Stenovics's power held him--and the fear of Stafnitz. He -went back to a work in which his heart no longer was; for his heart had -felt Sophy's spell. - -"You can have had next to no sleep all night, Monseigneur," said Sophy -in reproach mingled with commiseration. - -"I don't need it; the sight of your face refreshes me. We must talk. -Zerkovitch brought news." - -In low, grave tones he told her the tidings, and the steps which he and -Zerkovitch had taken. - -"I understand my father's reasons for keeping me in the dark; he meant -it well, but he was blinded by this idea about my marriage. But I see, -too, how it fitted in with Stenovics's ideas. I think it's war between -us now--and I'm ready." - -Sophy was almost dazed. The King's life was not to be relied on for a -week--for a day--no, not for an hour! But she listened attentively. -Zerkovitch had gone back to Slavna on a fresh horse and at top speed; he -would have more than two hours' lead of Markart. His first duty was to -open communications with Lepage and arrange that the valet should send -to him all the information which came to his ears, and any impressions -which he was able to gather in the Palace. Zerkovitch would forward the -reports to Praslok immediately, so long as the Prince remained at the -Castle. But the Prince was persuaded that his father would not refuse to -see him, now that he knew the true state of the case. "My father is -really attached to me," he said, "and if I see him, I'm confident that I -can persuade him of the inexpediency of my leaving the kingdom just now. -A hint of my suspicions with regard to the Countess and Stenovics would -do it; but I'm reluctant to risk giving him such a shock. I think I can -persuade him without." - -"But is it safe for you to trust yourself at Slavna--in the Palace? And -alone?" - -"I must risk the Palace alone--and I'm not much afraid. Stenovics might -go to war with me, but I don't think he'd favor assassination. And to -Slavna I sha'n't go alone. Our gunners will go with us, Sophy. We have -news of the guns being on the way; there will be nothing strange in my -marching the gunners down to meet them. They're only half-trained, even -in drill, but they're brave fellows. We'll take up our quarters with -them in Suleiman's Tower. I don't fear all Slavna if I hold Suleiman's -Tower with three hundred Volsenians. Stafnitz may do his worst!" - -"Yes, I see," she answered, thoughtfully. "I can't come with you to -Suleiman's Tower, though." - -"Only if there are signs of danger. Then you and Marie must come; if all -is quiet, you can stay in her house. We can meet often--as often as -possible. For the rest, we must wait." - -She saw that they must wait. It was impossible to approach the King on -the matter of Sophy. It cut dead at the heart of his ambition; it would -be a shock as great as the discovery of Countess Ellenburg's ambitions. -It could not be risked. - -"But if, under Stenovics's influence, the King does refuse to see you?" -she asked--"Refuses to see you, and repeats his orders?" - -The Prince's face grew very grave, but his voice was firm. - -"Not even the King--not even my father--can bid me throw away the -inheritance which is mine. The hand would be the King's, but the voice -the voice of Stenovics. I shouldn't obey; they'd have to come to Volseni -and take me." - -Sophy's eyes kindled. "Yes, that's right!" she said. "And for to-day?" - -"Nothing will happen to-day--unless, by chance, the thing which we now -know may happen any day; and of that we shouldn't hear till evening. And -there's no drill even. I sent the men to their homes on forty-eight -hours' furlough yesterday morning." His face relaxed in a smile. "I -think to-day we can have a holiday, Sophy." - -She clapped her hands in glee. "Oh, Monseigneur, a holiday!" - -"It may be the last for a long time," he said; "so we must enjoy it." - -This day--this holiday which might be the last--passed in a fine -carelessness and a rich joy in living. The cloudless sky and the -glittering waters of Lake Talti were parties to their pleasure, whether -as they rode far along the shore, or sat and ate a simple meal on the -rock-strewn margin. Hopes and fears, dangers and stern resolves, were -forgotten; even of the happier issues which the future promised, or -dangled before their eyes, there was little thought or speech. The blood -of youth flowed briskly, the heart of youth rose high. The grave Prince -joked, jested, and paid his court; Sophy's eyes gleamed with the fun as -not even the most exalted and perilous adventure could make them -sparkle. - -"Oh, it's good," she cried--"good to live and see the sun! Monseigneur, -I believe I'm a pagan--a sun-worshipper! When he's good enough to warm -me through, and to make the water glitter for me, and shadows dance in -such a cunning pattern on the hills, then I think I've done something -that he likes, and that he's pleased with me!" She sprang to her feet -and stretched out her hands towards the sun. "In the grave, I believe, I -shall remember the glorious light; my memory of that could surely never -die!" - -His was the holiday mood, too. He fell in with her extravagance, meeting -it with banter. - -"It's only a lamp," he said, "just a lamp; and it's hung there for the -sole purpose of showing Sophy's eyes. When she's not there, they put it -out--for what's the use of it?" - -"They put it out when I'm not there?" - -"I've noticed it happen a dozen times of late." - -"It lights up again when I come, Monseigneur?" - -"Ah, then I forget to look!" - -"You get very little sun anyhow, then!" - -"I've something so much better." - -It is pathetic to read--pathetic that she should have set it down as -though every word of it were precious--set it down as minutely as she -chronicled the details of the critical hours to which fate was soon to -call her. - -Yet, was she wrong? Days of idleness are not always the emptiest; life -may justify its halts; our spirits may mount to their sublimest pitch in -hours of play. At least, the temper of that holiday, and her eager -prizing and recording of it, show well the manner of woman that she -was--her passionate love of beauty, her eager stretching out to all that -makes life beautiful, her spirit, sensitive to all around, taking color -from this and that, reflecting back every ray which the bounty of nature -or of man poured upon it, her great faculty of living. She wasted no -days or hours. Ever receiving, ever giving, she spent her sojourn in a -world that for her did much, yet never could do enough, to which she -gave a great love, yet never seemed to herself to be able to give -enough. Perhaps she was not wrong when she called herself a pagan. She -was of the religion of joy; her kindest thought of the grave was that -haply through some chink in its dark walls there might creep one tiny -sunbeam of memory. - -They rode home together as the sun was setting--a sun of ruddy gold, -behind it one bright, purple cloud, the sky beyond blue, deepening -almost into black. When Praslok came in sight, she laid her hand on his -with a long-drawn sigh. - -"We have been together to-day," she said. "That will be there always. -Yes, the sun and the world were made for us this day--and we have been -worthy." - -He pressed her hand. "You were sent to teach me what joy is--the worth -of the world to men who live in it. You're the angel of joy, Sophy. -Before you came, I had missed that lesson." - -"I'm very glad"--thus she ends her own record of this day of -glory--"that I've brought joy to Monseigneur. He faces his fight joyful -of heart." And then, with one of her absurd, deplorable, irresistible -lapses into the merest ordinary feminine, she adds: "That red badge is -just the touch my sheepskin cap wanted!" - -Oh, Sophy, Sophy, what of that for a final reflection on the eve of -Monseigneur's fight? - - - - -XIII - -A DELICATE DUTY - - -There was a stir in Slavna; excitement was gradually growing, not -unmixed with uneasiness; gossip was busy at the Hotel de Paris and at -the Golden Lion. Men clustered in groups and talked, while their wives -said that they would be better at home, minding their business and -letting politics alone. Knowledge was far to seek; rumors were -plentiful. Dr. Natcheff might be as reassuring as he pleased--but he had -spent the night at the Palace! All was quiet in the city, but news came -of the force that was being raised in Volseni, and the size of the force -lost nothing as the report passed from mouth to mouth. Little as Slavna -loved the Prince, it was not eager to fight him. A certain reaction in -his favor set in. If they did not love him, they held him in sincere -respect; if he meant to fight, then they were not sure that they did! - -Baroness Dobrava's name, too, was much on men's lips; stories about -Sophy were bandied to and fro; people began to remember that they had -from the beginning thought her very remarkable--a force to be reckoned -with. The superstitious ideas about her made their first definite -appearance now. She had bewitched the Prince, they said, and the men of -the hills, too; the whole mountain country would rise at her bidding and -sweep down on Slavna in rude warfare and mad bravery. The Sheepskins -would come, following the Red Star! - -The citizens of Slavna did not relish the prospect; at the best it would -be very bad for trade; at the worst it would mean blood and death let -loose in the streets. A stern ruler was better than civil war. The -troops of the garrison were no longer such favorites as they had been; -even Captain Hercules subdued his demeanor (which, indeed, had never -quite recovered from the chastisement of the Prince's sword) to a -self-effacing discretion. He, too, in his heart, and in his heavy, -primitive brain, had an uneasy feeling about the witch with the Red -Star; had she not been the beginning of trouble? But for her, Sterkoff's -long knife would have set an end to the whole chapter long ago! - -The time was short and the omens doubtful. It was the moment for a bold -stroke, for a forcing game. The waverers must be shown where power lay, -whose was the winning side. - -Captain Markart arrived at Slavna at one o'clock. Zerkovitch had used -his start well and reached the city nearly three hours earlier. When -Markart told Stenovics (he reported himself at once to the General) how -he had been outwitted, Stenovics smiled, saying: "I know, and I know -what he has done since he got here. They stole a march on you, but not -on me, Captain. And now--your story!" He listened to Markart's tale with -a frowning brow, and then dismissed him, saying: "You will meet me at -the Palace. We meet the King in conference at four o'clock." But the -General himself went to the Palace long before four, and he and Stafnitz -were closeted with Countess Ellenburg. Lepage, returning from a walk to -the city at two o'clock, saw the General arrive on horseback. -Lieutenant Rastatz saw Lepage arrive--ay, and had seen him set out, and -marked all his goings; but of this Lepage was unconscious. The little -lieutenant was not much of a soldier, but he was an excellent spy. -Lepage had been with Zerkovitch. - -The King was confined to his apartments, a suite of six rooms on the -first floor, facing the river. Here he had his own sitting-room, -dressing, and bedrooms. Besides these there were the little cupboard -Lepage slept in, and a spare room, which at present accommodated Dr. -Natcheff. The sixth room was occupied by odds and ends, including the -tackle, rods, and other implements of his Majesty's favorite pastime. -The council was held in the sitting-room. Natcheff and Lepage were not -present, but each was in his own room, ready for any possible call on -his services. Markart was there, first to tell his story and deliver his -letter, secondly in his capacity as secretary to General Stenovics. The -Countess and Stafnitz completed the party. - -The King was anxious, worried, obviously unwell; his voice trembled as -he read aloud his son's letter. It was brief but dutiful, and even -affectionate. After a slight reproach that he should have been kept in -ignorance of the apprehensions entertained about the King's health, the -Prince requested an audience within the next two days; he had -considerations which it was his duty to lay before his Majesty, and he -firmly but respectfully claimed the right of confidential communication -with his father; that was essential to his Majesty's obtaining a true -appreciation of his views. The hit at Stenovics was plain enough, and -the Prince did not labor it. The letter ended there, with an expression -of earnest concern for the King's health. There was no word in it about -starting on his journey. - -Then Markart told his story--not that he had much to tell. In essence he -added only that the Prince proposed to await the King's answer at -Praslok. Neither to him had the Prince said a word about starting on his -journey. - -On this point Stenovics seized, pursuant, no doubt, to the plan devised -in that preliminary discussion with the other two members of the little -_coterie_. - -"It is remarkable, sir--even more than remarkable--that his Royal -Highness makes no reference at all to the direct command which your -Majesty was pleased to issue to him," he observed. - -The King listened, puzzled and rather distressed. "Yes, it isn't proper, -it isn't respectful. But now that my son knows of the state of my -health, I think I must see him. It seems unnatural to refuse. After all, -it may be the last time--since he's going on this journey." - -"But is the Prince going on his journey, sir?" asked Stenovics. "Does -the studied silence of his letter augur well for his obedience? Doesn't -he seek an interview in order to persuade your Majesty against your -better judgment? I must be pardoned freedom of speech. Great interests -are at stake." The last words were true enough, though not in the sense -in which the King was meant to understand them. - -"My son knows how near this matter is to my heart. I shall be able to -persuade him to do his duty," said the King. - -The first round of the fight was going against the _coterie_. They did -not want the King to see his son. Danger lay there. The Prince's was the -stronger character; it might well prevail; and they were no longer -certain that the Prince knew or guessed nothing of their hopes and -intentions; how much news had Zerkovitch carried to Praslok the night -before? Stenovics addressed the King again. - -"Captain Markart gathered that the Prince was reluctant to interrupt the -military training on which he is engaged at Volseni, sir." - -"A very excellent thing, that; but the other matter is more urgent. I -shouldn't change my mind on account of that." - -"A personal interview might be trying to your Majesty." - -The King looked annoyed, possibly a little suspicious. "You've no other -objection than that to urge, General Stenovics?" - -Stenovics had none other which he could produce. "No, sir," he said. - -"While I'm here I must do my duty--and I shall induce my son to do his. -I'll receive the Prince of Slavna in private audience to-morrow or next -day. I'll fix the precise time later, and I'll write the letter myself." - -The decision was final--and it was defeat so far. There was a moment's -silence. Markart saw Colonel Stafnitz nod his head, almost -imperceptibly, towards Countess Ellenburg. The need and the moment for -reinforcements had come; the Colonel was calling them up. The order of -battle had been well considered in Countess Ellenburg's apartments! The -second line came into action. The Countess began with a question, put -with a sneer: - -"Did no other reason for the Prince's unwillingness to set out on his -journey suggest itself to Captain Markart from what he saw at Praslok?" - -The King turned sharply round to her, then to Markart. "Well?" he asked -the latter. - -Markart was sadly embarrassed. - -"Who was at Praslok?" asked the Countess. - -"Madame Zerkovitch, and her husband for one night, and Baroness -Dobrava." - -"Yes, Baroness Dobrava!" - -"She's still there?" asked the King. He looked perplexed, even vexed, -but again he smiled. He looked at Stenovics and Stafnitz, but this time -he found no responsive smiles. Their faces were deadly serious. "Oh, -come, well--well, that's not serious. Natural, perhaps, but--the Prince -has a sense of duty. He'll see that that won't do. And we'll send the -Baroness a hint--we'll tell her how much we miss her at Slavna." He -tried to make them answer his smile and accept his smoothing away of the -difficulty. It was all a failure. - -"I'm bound to say, sir, that I consider Baroness Dobrava a serious -obstacle to his Royal Highness's obeying your wishes--a serious -obstacle," said Stenovics. - -"Then we must get her away, General." - -"Will he let her go?" snapped the Countess. - -"I must order it, if it comes to that," said the King. "These -little--er--affairs--these--what?--holiday flirtations--" - -The Countess lost--or appeared to lose--control of herself suddenly. -"Little affairs! Holiday flirtations! If it were only that, it would be -beneath your notice, sir, and beneath mine. It's more than that!" - -The King started and leaned forward, looking at her. She rose to her -feet, crying: "More than that! While we sit talking here, he may be -marrying that woman!" - -"Marrying her?" cried the King; his face turned red, and then, as the -blood ebbed again, became very pale. - -"That's what she means--yes, and what he means, too!" - -The King was aghast. The second assault struck home--struck at his -dearest hopes and wounded his most intimate ambitions. But he was still -incredulous. He spread out trembling hands, turning from the vehement -woman to his two counsellors. - -"Gentlemen!" he said, imploringly, with out-stretched hands. - -They were silent--grave and silent. - -"Captain Markart, you--you saw anything to suggest this--this terrible -idea?" - -The fire was hot on poor Markart again. He stammered and stuttered. - -"The--the Baroness seemed to have much influence, sir; to--to hold a -very high position in the Prince's regard; to--to be in his -confidence--" - -"Yes!" struck in the Countess. "She wears the uniform of his artillery! -Isn't that a compliment usually reserved for ladies of royal rank? I -appeal to you, Colonel Stafnitz!" - -"In most services it is so, I believe, Countess," the Colonel answered -gravely. - -"But I should never allow it--and without my consent--" - -"It might be invalid, sir, though there's some doubt about that. But it -would be a fatal bar to our German project. Even an influence short of -actual marriage--" - -"She means marriage, I say, marriage!" The Countess was quite rudely -impatient of her ally--which was very artistic. "An ambitious and -dangerous woman! She has taken advantage of the favor the King showed -her." - -"And if I died?" asked the King. - -Stenovics shrugged his shoulders. "Of course, there would be no control -then," said he. - -The King looked round. "We must get her away from Praslok." - -"Will she come?" jeered the Countess. "Not she! Will he let her go? Not -he!" - -The King passed his hand weakly across his brow. Then he rang a bell on -the table. Lepage entered, and the King bade him bring him the draught -which Natcheff had prescribed for his nerves. Well might the unfortunate -man feel the need of it, between the Countess's open eruption and the -not less formidable calm of Stenovics and Stafnitz! And all his favorite -dreams in danger! - -"She won't leave him--or he'll follow her. The woman has infatuated -him!" the Countess persisted. - -"Pray, madame, let me think," said the harassed and sick King. "We must -open communications with Baroness Dobrava." - -"May I suggest that the matter might prove urgent, sir?" said Stenovics. - -"Every hour is full of danger," declared the Countess. - -The King held up his hand for silence. Then he took paper and pen, and -wrote with his own hand some lines. He signed the document and folded -it. His face was now firm and calmer. The peril to his greatest -hopes--perhaps a sense of the precarious tenure of his power--seemed to -impart to him a new promptness, a decision alien to his normal -character. "Colonel Stafnitz!" he said in a tone of command. - -The Colonel rose to his feet and saluted. From an adviser in council he -became in a moment a soldier on duty. - -"I am about to entrust to you a duty of great delicacy. I choose you -because, short of General Stenovics himself, there is no man in whom I -have such confidence. To-morrow morning you will go to Praslok and -inform his Royal Highness that you have a communication from me for -Baroness Dobrava. If the Prince is absent, you will see the Baroness -herself. If she is absent, you will follow her and find her. The matter -is urgent. You will tell her that it is my request that she at once -accompany you back here to the Palace, where I shall receive her and -acquaint her with my further wishes. If she asks of these, say that you -are not empowered to tell her anything; she must learn them from myself. -If she makes any demur about accompanying you immediately, or if demur -is made or delay suggested from any quarter, you will say that my -request is a command. If that is not sufficient, you will produce this -paper. It is an order under my hand, addressed to you and directing you -to arrest Baroness Dobrava and escort her here to my presence, -notwithstanding any objection or resistance, which any person whatever -will offer at his peril. You will be back here by to-morrow evening, -with the Baroness in your charge. Do it without employing the order for -arrest if possible, but do it anyhow and at all costs. Do you -understand?" - -"Perfectly, sir. Am I to take an escort?" - -The answer to that question was anxiously considered--and awaited -anxiously. - -"Yes," said the King, "you will. The precise force I leave to your -discretion. It should be large enough to make you secure from -hinderance by any act short of open and armed resistance to my -commands." - -Stafnitz saluted again, and at a sign from the King resumed his seat. -The King's manner relaxed as he turned to Stenovics. "When we've got her -here, we'll reason with her--she'll hear reason--and persuade her that -her health will benefit by a foreign trip. If necessary, I shall cause -her to be deported. She must be out of Kravonia in three days unless she -can clear herself from all suspicion. I'll arrange that the Prince -sha'n't come for his audience until she is well out of Slavna. It is, of -course, absolutely essential that no word of this should pass the walls -of this room. If once a hint of it reached Praslok, the task of laying -our hands on the Baroness might become infinitely more difficult." - -The three were well pleased. They had come to fear Sophy, and on that -score alone would be right glad to see the last of her. And when she had -gone, there was a fairer chance that the Prince, too, would go on his -travels; whether he went after her or not they cared little, so that he -went, and the recruiting and training at Volseni were interrupted. - -Again, she was to go before the audience. That was another point. The -peril of the audience remained, but they had improved their chances. -Perhaps Stafnitz's brain was already busy with the possibilities of his -mission and his escort. The latter was to be large enough to make him -secure from hinderance by any act short of open and armed resistance to -the King's commands. If it were impossible (as his Majesty obviously -considered) to contemplate such resistance, it was evidently no less -impossible to reckon what might happen as a consequence of it. - -The King rang his bell impatiently. "I want my draught again. I'm very -tired. Is there anything else which need detain us to-day?" - -As he spoke, before Stenovics could answer, Lepage came in with the -draught. The valet wore an even unusually demure and uninterested -expression. - -"There is one other matter, sir," said Stenovics. - -The King paused in the act of drinking and listened with his glass in -his hand, Lepage standing beside him. - -"Your Majesty just now impressed on us the need of secrecy as to what -passes between these walls. I think, sir, you would insist on the same -thing with all who serve you confidentially. You haven't asked, sir, how -the Prince became aware of the state of your Majesty's health." - -The King started a little. "No, I forgot that. It was against my direct -orders. How was it?" - -Stenovics kept his eyes on the King; Markart and Stafnitz allowed -themselves to study Lepage's features; he stood the scrutiny well. - -"The news, sir, was betrayed by a man within these walls--a man in close -touch with your Majesty." - -"Natcheff!" exclaimed the King. - -"Certainly not, sir. Another. This man, of whom I had suspicions, and -whom I caused to be watched, went by night to the house of Monsieur -Zerkovitch, who is, as you are aware, a close friend and (if I may use -the word) an adherent of the Prince of Slavna. Their interview took -place between nine and ten last night. At eleven Zerkovitch, having -borrowed a horse from the Prince's stables, set out for Praslok. He rode -hard through the night and reached the Castle, as Captain Markart has -told us, in the small hours of the morning. There he had an interview -with the Prince. He left Praslok between six and seven in the morning -and arrived at his house on the south boulevard by eleven. At half-past -eleven he walked up the Street of the Fountain, crossed St. Michael's -Square, and entered a small inn in a little alley behind the Cathedral. -Here the man I speak of was waiting for him. They were together half an -hour. Zerkovitch then left. The man remained till one, then came out, -and returned to the Palace by a circuitous route, arriving here about -two o'clock. I venture to say that the meaning of all this is quite -clear. This man is in communication with Praslok, using Zerkovitch as -his intermediary. It's for your Majesty to say how far his disobedience -in regard to acquainting the Prince with your condition is a serious -offence. As to that I say nothing. But it will be obvious that this man -should know nothing of any private measures undertaken or contemplated." - -The King had listened carefully. "The case seems clear," he said. "This -fellow's a traitor. He's done harm already, and may do more. What do you -ask, General?" - -"We might be content to let him know nothing. But who can be quite -certain of insuring that? Sir, you have just arrived at a very important -decision--to take certain action. Absolute secrecy is essential to its -success. I've no wish to press hardly on this man, but I feel bound to -urge that he should be put under arrest and kept in the charge of a -person who is beyond suspicion until the action to which I refer has -been successfully carried out." - -"The precaution is an obvious one, and the punishment hardly -sufficient." The King rose. "Do as you say, General. I leave you full -discretion. And now I'll go to my room and rest. I'm very tired. Give -me your arm, Lepage, and come and make me comfortable." - -Lepage did not offer his arm. He was not looking at the King, nor -listening to him; his eyes and his ears were for General Stenovics. -Stenovics rose now and pointed his finger at Lepage. - -"That, sir, is the man," said he. - -"Lepage!" cried the King, and sank heavily into his seat with a -bewildered face. Lepage--his familiar--the man he trusted! - - - - -XIV - -HIS MAJESTY DIES--TO-MORROW! - - -The King's ambition and pride had quivered under the threat of a cruel -blow; the charge against Lepage wounded him hardly less deeply. He -regarded his body-servant with the trustful affection which grows on an -indolent man in course of years--of countless days of consulting, -trusting, relying on one ever present, ever ready, always trustworthy. -Lepage had been with him nearly thirty years; there was hardly a secret -of the King's manhood which he had not known and kept. At last had he -turned traitor? - -Stenovics had failed to allow for this human side of the matter; how -much more alone the revelation would make the King feel, how much more -exposed and helpless--just, moreover, when sickness made his invaluable -servant more indispensable still. A forlorn dignity filled the King's -simple question: "Is it true, Lepage?" - -Lepage's impassivity vanished. He, too, was deeply moved. The sense of -guilt was on him--of guilt against his master; it drove him on, beyond -itself, to a fierce rage against those who had goaded him into his -disobedience, whose action and plans had made his disobedience right. -For right now he believed and felt it; his talks with Zerkovitch had -crystallized his suspicions into confident certainty. He was carried -beyond thinking of what effect his outburst might have on his own -fortunes or how it might distress the already harassed King. He struck -back fiercely at his accuser, all his national quickness of passion -finding vent in the torrent of words he poured forth in excuse or -justification. He spoke his native French, very quickly, one word -jostling over another, his arms flying like windmills, and his hair -bristling, as it seemed, with defiance. - -"Yes, it's true, sir. I disobeyed your Majesty--for the first time in -thirty years! For the first time in my life, sir, I did it! And why? -Because it was right; because it was for honor. I was angry, yes! I had -been scolded because Count Alexis bade me call him 'Prince,' and you -heard me do it. Yes, I was angry. Was it my fault? Had I told him he was -a prince? No! Who had told him he was a prince? Don't ask me, sir. Ask -somebody else. For my part, I know well the difference between one who -is a prince and one who is not. Oh, I'm not ignorant of that! I know, -too, the difference between one who is a queen and one who is not--oh, -with the utmost respect to Madame la Comtesse! But I know it--and I -remember it. Does everybody else remember it?" - -He stopped for a moment and clutched at his stiff, tight collar, as -though to wrench it away from his neck, and let the stream of his words -flow even more freely. While he paused, nobody spoke. Stenovics's heavy -gaze was on the King, Stafnitz's eyes discreetly on the ceiling; the -Countess looked scared. Had they made a mistake? Would it have been -better to run the risk of what Lepage could do? The King's hands were on -the table in front of him; they trembled where they lay. - -"Why wasn't the Prince to know? Because then he wouldn't go on his -journey! His journey after the German princess!" He faced Stenovics now, -boldly and defiantly, pointing a forefinger at him. "Yes, they wanted -him to go. Yes, they did! Why, sir? To marry a princess--a great -princess? Was that what they wanted? Eh, but it would have been little -use for Count Alexis to ask me to call him a prince then! And Madame la -Comtesse--with the utmost respect to Madame la Comtesse--she wanted a -great princess here? Oh, she wanted that mightily, to be sure!" - -The King stirred uneasily in his chair. - -"Sir, will you listen to him?" the Countess broke in. - -His answer was cold: "I listen to every man before I order him to be -punished." - -"Yes, they wanted him to go. Yes, certainly! For he trains his men at -Volseni, trains them for his big guns. When the men are trained and the -guns have come--well, who'll call Count Alexis a prince then? Will even -they who taught him to think himself a prince? Oh yes; they wanted him -to go. And he wouldn't go if he knew your Majesty was ill. He loves your -Majesty. Yes! But if he hated you, still would he go?" With a sudden -turn he was round on Stenovics again, and threw out his arms as though -to embrace a picture. "Look! The Prince is away, the guns are come, the -King dies! Who commands in the Palace? Who governs Slavna?" He was back -to the King with another swift turn. "May I answer, sir? May I tell you? -The mother of Prince Alexis commands in the Palace; Slavna is ruled by -the friends of Captain Mistitch!" His voice fell to an ironical murmur. -"And the Prince is far off--seeking a great princess! Sir, do you see -the picture?" - -Stafnitz suddenly lowered his eyes from the ceiling and looked at the -gesticulating little man with a smile. - -"Such imagination in the servants' hall!" he murmured half under his -breath. - -The King neither rebuked his levity nor endorsed the insinuated satire. -He took no notice at all. His eyes were fixed on his still trembling -hands. - -Stenovics spoke in a calm, smooth voice. "Absolutely, sir, I believe the -man's honest!" he said, with an inflection of good-humored surprise. -"One sees how he got the idea! I'm sure he's genuinely devoted to your -Majesty, and to the Prince--as we all are. He sees something going on -which he doesn't understand; he knows something more is going on that -he's ignorant of. He knows the unfortunate condition of your Majesty's -health. He's like a nurse--forgive me--in charge of a sick child; he -thinks everybody but himself has designs on his charge. It's really -natural, however absurd--but it surely makes the precaution I suggested -even more necessary? If he went about spreading a tale like this!" - -The line was clever--cleverer far than the Countess's rage, cleverer -than Stafnitz's airily bitter sneer. But of it, too, the King took no -notice. Lepage took no more than lay in a very scornful smile. He leaned -down towards the motionless, dull-faced King, and said in his ear: - -"They wanted him to go, yes! Did they want him to come back again, sir?" -He bent a little lower, and almost whispered: "How long would his -journey have taken, sir? How long would it have taken him to get back -if--in case of need?" One more question he did not ask in words; but it -was plain enough without them: "How long can your Majesty count on -living?" - -At last the King raised his head and looked round on them. His eyes were -heavy and glassy. - -"This man has been my trusted servant for many, many years. You, General -Stenovics, have been my right hand, my other self. Colonel Stafnitz is -high in my confidence. And Lepage is only my servant." - -"I seek to stand no higher than any other of your Majesty's servants, -except in so far as the nature of my services gives me a claim," said -Stenovics. - -"But there's one here who stands far nearer to me than any one, who -stands nearer to me than any living being. She must know of this thing, -if it's true; if it's being done, her hand must be foremost among the -hands that are doing it." His eyes fixed themselves on the Countess's -face. "Is it true?" he asked. - -"Sir, how can you ask? How can you listen? True! It's a malignant -invention. He's angry because I reproved him." - -"Yes, I'm angry. I said so. But it's true for all that." - -"Silence, Lepage! Am I to take your word against the Countess's?" - -Markart, a silent listener to all this scene, thought that Lepage's game -was up. Who could doubt what the Countess's word would be? Probably -Lepage, too, thought that he was beaten, that he was a ruined man. For -he played a desperate card--the last throw of a bankrupt player. Yet it -was guided by shrewdness, and by the intimate knowledge which his years -of residence in the Palace had given him. He knew the King well; and he -knew Countess Ellenburg hardly less thoroughly. - -"I speak truth, sir, as I believe it. But I can't expect you to take my -word against the Countess's. I have too much respect for Madame la -Comtesse to ask that." - -Again he bent down towards the King; the King looked up at him; -Stenovics's simile came back into the mind. In a low, soothing tone -Lepage made his throw--his last suggestion. "Madame la Comtesse is of -great piety. If Madame la Comtesse will take a solemn oath--well, then -I'm content! I'll say I was mistaken--honest, I declare, sir, but -mistaken." - -Stenovics raised his head with a sharp jerk. Stafnitz smiled scornfully; -he was thinking that Lepage was not, after all, a very resourceful -fellow. An oath! Great Heavens! Oaths were in the day's work when you -put your hand to affairs like this. But here Stenovics was wiser--and -Lepage was shrewder. Stafnitz generalized from an experience rather -one-sided; the other two knew the special case. When oaths were -mentioned--solemn oaths--Stenovics scented danger. - -The King knew his wife, too; and he was profoundly affected, convulsed -to the depths of his mind. The thing sounded true--it had a horrible -sound of truth. He craved the Countess's denial, solemn as it could be -framed. That would restore the confidence which was crumbling from -beneath his tormented, bewildered mind. - -"Can anybody object to that," he asked slowly, "if I say it will relieve -my mind?" He smiled apologetically. "I'm a sick man, you know. If it -will relieve a sick man's mind, banish a sick man's fancies? If I shall -sleep a little better--and old Lepage here be ashamed of himself?" - -None of them dared to object. None could plausibly, unless the Countess -herself--and she dared not. In his present mood the King would not -accept the plea of her dignity; against it he would set the indulgence -due to a sick man's rebellious fancies; could she, for her dignity's -sake, deny him what would make him sleep? - -He looked at her; something in her face appeared to strike him as -strange. A sort of quiver ran through his body; he seemed to pull -himself together with an effort; as he spoke to her, his voice sounded -faint and ever so slightly blurred. - -"You've heard Lepage, and I know that you'll speak the truth to me on -your oath--the truth about the thing nearest to the heart of a dying -man--nearest to the heart of your dying husband. You wouldn't lie on -oath to a dying man, your husband and your King. For I am dying. You -have years still; but they'll end. You believe that some day you and I -will stand together before the Throne. As you shall answer to Heaven in -that day, is this true? Was it in your heart, and in the heart of these -men, to keep my son, the heir of my House, from his throne? Is it true? -As you shall answer to God for your soul, is there any truth in it?" - -The woman went gray in the face--a sheet of gray paper seemed drawn over -her cheeks; her narrow lips showed a pale red streak across it. Her -prayers--those laborious, ingenious, plausible prayers--helped her -nothing here. - -"I protest! At this time, sir! The Countess will be upset!" - -Stenovics had been driven to this; he feared greatly. Not a soul heeded -him; every eye now was on the woman. She struggled--she struggled to -lie; she struggled to do what she believed would bring perdition to her -soul. Her voice was forced and harsh when at last she broke silence. - -"As I shall answer in that day--" - -"As you shall answer to God for your soul in that day--" the King -repeated. - -She gave a wild glance at Stenovics, seeking succor, finding no refuge. -Her eyes came back to the King's face. "As I shall answer--" Every word -came forth by its own self, with its separate birth-pang--"As I shall -answer to God for my soul--" - -She stopped. There was silence while a man might count ten. She threw -her hands above her head and broke into a violent torrent of sobs. "I -can't! I can't!" they heard her say through her tumultuous weeping. - -The King suddenly started back in his chair as though somebody had -offered to strike him. "You--you--you, my wife! You, Stenovics! You, -whom I trusted--trusted--trusted like--! Ah, is that you, Lepage? Did I -hear rightly--wouldn't she swear?" - -"With the utmost respect to Madame la Comtesse, she could not swear, -sir." - -The King sprang to his feet. "Go!" he cried. - -They all rose--the Countess shaken with unconquerable sobs. But the next -moment the King made a quick in-drawing of the breath, like a man -suddenly pricked by some sharp thing. He dropped back in his chair; his -head fell to meet his hands on the table in front. The hands were palms -downward, and his forehead rested on his knuckles. - -There was a moment's pause. Then Lepage darted from the room, crying: -"Dr. Natcheff! Dr. Natcheff!" Stenovics wiped his brow. Stafnitz raised -his head with a queer look at the King, and his mouth shaped for a -whistle. The Countess's sobs seemed as though frozen, her whole frame -was rigid. The King did not move. - -Natcheff came rushing in; Lepage, who followed closely, shut the door -after him. They both went to the King. There was silence while Natcheff -made his examination. In a couple of minutes he turned round to them. - -"Something has caused his Majesty strong agitation?" - -"Yes," answered Stenovics. - -"Yes!" said Natcheff. He cleared his throat and glanced doubtfully at -the Countess. - -"Well?" asked Stenovics. - -Natcheff threw out his hands, shrugging his shoulders ever so slightly: - -"I regret to say that the effect is the worst possible. His Majesty is -dead." - -Silence again--a silence strangely broken. Stafnitz sprang across the -room with a bound like a cat's, and caught the physician by the -shoulder. - -"No!" he said. "Not for twenty-four hours yet! His Majesty -dies--to-morrow!" - - - - -XV - -A JOB FOR CAPTAIN HERCULES - - -"His Majesty dies--to-morrow!" - -Stafnitz's words seemed to freeze them all stiff where they stood; even -Countess Ellenburg's sobs, which had threatened to break forth again, -were arrested in their flow. - -"Markart, lock the door leading to the King's apartments. Natcheff and -Lepage, carry the King into his bedroom; lay him on the bed; stay there -till I call you. Countess, General, I invite your earnest attention." - -Stenovics's mind excelled in the waiting game, the slow, tortuous -approach, the inch-by-inch advance of leisurely diplomacy. For him this -crisis was at first too sudden. The swift and daring intellect of -Stafnitz naturally and inevitably took the lead; his strong will -fascinated his confederates. - -"Is this to be the beginning or the end?" he asked. "For us and our -friends--which? If we send a courier to Praslok to call King Sergius to -his capital--what then? For you, Countess, and your son, oblivion and -obscurity at Dobrava--for all the rest of your life, just that! For you, -General, and for me, and our friends--yes, you too, Markart!--our -_conge_, more or less civilly given. There won't be more insignificant -men in all Slavna on the day King Sergius enters. But there's no King -Sergius yet!" - -Stenovics was regaining the use of his brain; his eyes grew distant in -deep meditation. Countess Ellenburg looked eager and grim; her lips -could not swear a false oath--well, she was not asked to swear any oath -now. Markart could not think; he stood staring at Stafnitz. - -"In half an hour that courier must start for Praslok, if he starts at -all. Of all things, we mustn't hesitate." - -He had painted the result to them of the coming of King Sergius; it -meant the defeat of years of effort; it entailed the end of hopes, of -place, of power or influence. There was no future for those three in -Kravonia if King Sergius came. And Markart, of course, seemed no more -than one of Stenovics's train. - -"And if the courier doesn't start?" asked Stenovics. He took out and lit -a cigar, asking no leave of the Countess; probably he hardly knew that -he was smoking it. - -Stafnitz looked at his watch. "Five o'clock! We have twenty-four -hours--it would be risky to keep the secret longer. There's not much -time; we must be prompt. But we mustn't sacrifice anything to hurry. For -instance, it would look odd to present the King's orders to Baroness -Dobrava in the middle of the night! She'd smell a rat, if she's as -clever as they say. And so would the Prince, I think. I could have a -hundred men at Praslok by midnight, but I shouldn't propose to have them -there before eleven o'clock to-morrow. Well, they could be back here by -five in the afternoon! In the course of the day we'll occupy all the -important points of the city with troops we can trust. Then, in the -evening--as soon as we see how matters have gone at Praslok--we proclaim -King Alexis!" - -The Countess gave a little shiver--whether of fear or of eagerness it -was impossible to tell. Stenovics drummed his fingers on the table and -turned his cigar quickly round and round in his mouth. Markart had -recovered his clearness of mind and closely watched all the scene. - -The Countess rose suddenly--in strong agitation. "I--I can't bear it," -she said. "With him lying there! Let me go! Presently--presently you -shall tell me--anything." - -Stenovics laid down his cigar and went to her. "Wait in there"--he -pointed to Natcheff's room--"till you're quite composed. Then go to your -own room and wait till I come. Mind, Countess, no sign of agitation!" He -led her out. Stafnitz shrugged his shoulders. - -"She'll be all right," he said to Markart with a passing smile. - -"I think she was fond of the King," said Markart. - -Stenovics returned. "Now!" he said, seating himself again and resuming -his cigar. "You suggest that we still use that order--for the arrest of -Baroness Dobrava?" - -"It's signed 'Alexis,' and King Alexis lives till five to-morrow. -Moreover, if all goes well, King Alexis lives again for many years after -that." - -Stenovics nodded slightly. "The Baroness comes willingly--or you bring -her? At any rate, one way or the other, she's in our hands by this time -to-morrow?" - -"Exactly, General. I fail to perceive that this lamentable event"--he -waved his hand towards the King's empty chair--"alters the case as -regards the Baroness one jot." - -"Not the least--unless you consider that risking our heads on the throw -has any such effect," replied Stenovics; and for the first time he -smiled. - -"Once you wanted to play the big stake on a bad hand, General. Won't you -put it on the table now, when you've a good one?" - -"I'm thinking of a certain strong card in the other hand which you -haven't mentioned yet. Baroness Dobrava is to be in our power by this -time to-morrow. But what will the Prince of Slavna be doing? Still -drilling his men at Volseni, still waiting for his guns?" - -Stafnitz looked him full in the face. "No," he said. "The Prince had -better not still be drilling his men at Volseni, nor waiting for his -guns." - -"I think not, too," Stenovics agreed, twisting his cigar round again. - -"General, do you think the Prince will let Baroness Dobrava come to -Slavna without him?" - -"I don't know. He might have confidence enough in you; he wouldn't wish -to annoy or agitate the King. He might await his summons to an audience. -On the whole, I think he would submit--and rely on being able to induce -the King to alter his mind when they met. I'm not sure he wouldn't -advise her to go with you." - -"Well, yes, I confess that struck me, too, as rather likely--or at least -possible." - -"If it happened, it wouldn't be convenient," said Stenovics, with a -patient sigh. "Because he would come after her in a day or two." - -"But if I were detained by urgent business in Slavna--and we've agreed -that there's work to be done to-morrow in Slavna--another officer would -go to Praslok. The order, which I have here, mentions no name, although -the King designated me by word of mouth." - -"The order mentions no name?" - -"No; it directs the Baroness to accompany the bearer. True, at the foot -my name is written--'Entrusted to Colonel Stafnitz.' But with care and a -pair of scissors--!" He smiled at Markart again, as though taking him -into the joke. - -"Well, well, suppose another officer goes to Praslok--why shouldn't the -Prince trust the Baroness to the care of that officer as readily as to -you? You don't--how shall I put it?--monopolize his confidence, -Colonel." - -Stafnitz still wore his easy, confidential smile, as he answered with an -air of innocent slyness: "Suppose the officer were--Captain Mistitch? I -think it's just the job for Captain Hercules!" - -Even Stenovics started a little at that. He laid down his cigar and -looked at his friend the Colonel for some seconds. Then he looked at -Markart, smiling, seeming to ponder, to watch how Markart was taking it, -even to sympathize with Markart on having to consider a rather startling -proposal, on having, possibly, to do some little violence to his -feelings. Certainly Captain Markart gathered the impression that -Stenovics was doubtful how he would stand this somewhat staggering -suggestion. At last the General turned his eyes back to Stafnitz again. - -"That's as ingenious a bit of deviltry as I ever heard, Colonel," he -remarked quietly. - -"Captain Mistitch is restored to duty. He's of proper rank to perform -such a service, and to command an escort of a hundred men. After all, an -officer of my rank made a certain concession in accepting so small a -command." - -"Of course, if the Prince knew you as I do, my dear Colonel, he'd trust -her to a thousand Mistitches sooner than to you--" - -"But then--he doesn't!" the Colonel smiled. - -"He'd regard the sending of Mistitch as a deliberate insult." - -"I'm afraid he would." - -"He's hot-tempered. He'd probably say as much." - -"Yes. And Mistitch is hot-tempered. He'd probably resent the -observation. But you'll remember, General, that the escort is to be -large enough to make the officer commanding it secure against hinderance -by any act short of open and armed resistance to the King's command." - -"He'll never believe the King would send Mistitch!" - -"Will that make his peaceable obedience more likely?" - -"In a moment they'd be at each other's--" He stopped. "Markart, go and -see if they need anything in there." He pointed to the King's bedroom, -where Natcheff and Lepage were. - -Markart rose and obeyed. His head was swimming; he hardly yet understood -how very ingenious the ingenious deviltry was, how the one man was to be -sent whose directions the Prince could not submit to, whose presence was -an insult, to whom it was impossible to entrust Baroness Dobrava. He was -very glad to get out of the room. The last he saw was Stafnitz drawing -his chair close up to Stenovics and engaging in low-voiced, earnest -talk. - -The King's body lay on the bed, decently disposed, and covered with a -large fur rug. Lepage sat on a chair near by, Natcheff on another in the -window. Both looked up for a moment as Markart entered, but neither -spoke. Markart found a third chair and sat down. Nobody said anything; -the three were as silent and almost as still as the fourth on the bed. A -low murmur of voices came from the next room; the words were -indistinguishable. So passed full half an hour--a strange and terrible -half-hour it seemed to Markart. - -The door opened, and Stafnitz called Natcheff. The physician rose and -followed him. Another twenty minutes went by, still in silence; but once -Markart, looking for a moment at his mute companion, saw a tear rolling -slowly down Lepage's wrinkled cheek. Lepage saw him looking and broke -the silence: - -"I suppose I helped to kill him!" - -Markart shrugged his shoulders helplessly. Silence came again. Very long -it seemed; but, on looking at his watch, Markart found that it was not -yet half-past six. - -Again the door opened, and Stafnitz called to them both. They followed -him into the next room. Stenovics was sitting at the table with his -hands clasped on it in front of him. Stafnitz took up a position by his -side, standing as though on duty. Natcheff had disappeared. Stenovics -spoke in calm, deliberate tones; he seemed to have assumed command of -the operations again. - -"Captain Markart, I'm about to entrust to you an important and -responsible duty. For the next twenty-four hours, and afterwards until -relieved by my orders, you will be in charge of this man Lepage, and -will detain him in these apartments. His own room and this room will be -at the disposal of yourself and your prisoner, but you must not let the -prisoner out of your sight. Dr. Natcheff remains in his room. He will -have access to the King's room when he desires, but he will not leave -the suite of apartments. Beyond seeing to this, you will have no -responsibility for him. The door leading to the suite will be locked by -me, and will be opened only by me, or by my orders. I remain at the -Palace to-night; under me Captain Sterkoff will be the officer on guard. -He will himself supply you with any meals or other refreshments which -you may require. Ring this hand-bell on the table--no other bell, -mind--and he will be with you immediately. Do you understand your -orders?" - -Markart understood them very well; there was no need of Stafnitz's -mocking little smile to point the meaning. Markart was to be Lepage's -jailer, Sterkoff was to be his. Under the most civil and considerate -form he was made as close a prisoner as the man he guarded. Evidently, -Stenovics had come to the conclusion that he could not ask Markart to -put too great a strain on his conscience! The General, however, seemed -very kindly disposed towards him, and was, indeed, almost apologetic: - -"I've every hope that this responsible and, I fear, very irksome duty -may last only the few hours I mentioned. You put me under a personal -obligation by undertaking it, my dear Markart." - -In the absence of any choice, Markart saluted and answered: "I -understand my orders, General." - -Stafnitz interposed: "Captain Sterkoff is also aware of their purport." - -Stenovics looked vexed. "Yes, yes, but I'm sure Markart himself is quite -enough." It seems odd that, in the midst of such a transaction as that -in which he was now engaged, Stenovics should have found leisure--or -heart--to care about Markart's feeling. Yet so it was--a curiously -human touch creeping in! He shut Markart up only under the strongest -sense of necessity and with great reluctance. Probably Stafnitz had -insisted, in the private conversation which they had held together: -Markart had shown such evident signs of jibbing over the job proposed -for Captain Hercules! - -Lepage's heart was wrung, but his spirit was not broken. Stafnitz's -ironical smile called an answering one to his lips. - -"It would console my feelings if I also were put in charge of somebody, -General," he said. "Shall I, in my turn, keep an eye on Dr. Natcheff, or -report if the Captain here is remiss in the duty of keeping himself a -prisoner?" - -"I don't think you need trouble yourself, Monsieur Lepage. Captain -Sterkoff will relieve you of responsibility." To Lepage, too, Stenovics -was gentle, urbane, almost apologetic. - -"And how long am I to live, General?" - -"You're in the enviable position, Monsieur Lepage, of being able, -subject to our common mortality, to settle that for yourself. Come, -come, we'll discuss matters again to-morrow night or the following -morning. There are many men who prefer not to do things, but will accept -a thing when it's done. They're not necessarily unwise. I've done no -worse to you than give you the opportunity of being one of them. I think -you'll be prudent to take it. Anyhow, don't be angry; you must remember -that you've given us a good deal of trouble." - -"Between us we have killed the King." - -Stenovics waved his hands in a commiserating way. "Practical men mustn't -spend time in lamenting the past," he said. - -"Nor in mere conversation, however pleasant," Stafnitz broke in with a -laugh. "Captain Markart, march your prisoner to his quarters." - -His smile made the order a mockery. Markart felt it, and a hatred of the -man rose in him. But he could do nothing. He did not lead Lepage to his -quarters, but followed sheepishly in his prisoner's wake. They went -together into the little room where Lepage slept. - -"Close quarters too, Captain!" said the valet. "There is but one -chair--let me put it at your service." He himself sat down on the bed, -took out his tobacco, and began to roll himself a cigarette. - -Markart shut the door and then threw himself on the solitary chair, in a -heavy despondency of spirit and a confused conflict of feelings. He was -glad to be out of the work, yet he resented the manner in which he was -put aside. There were things going on in which it was well to have no -hand. Yet was there not a thing going on in which every man ought to -have a hand, on one side or the other? Not to do it, but to be ready to -accept it when done! He was enough of a soldier to feel that there lay -the worst, the meanest thing of all. Not to dare to do it, but to profit -by the doing! Stenovics had used the words to Lepage, his prisoner. By -making him in effect a prisoner, too, the General showed that he applied -them to the Captain also. Anything seemed better than that--ay, it would -be better to ride to Praslok behind Captain Hercules! In that adventure -a man might, at least, risk his life! - -"An odd world!" said the valet, puffing out his cigarette smoke. "Honest -men for prisoners, and murderers for jailers! Are you a prisoner or a -jailer, Captain Markart?" - - - - -XVI - -A FRENCHMAN AND A MATTRESS - - -To say the truth, the word "murderers" seemed to Captain Markart more -than a little harsh. To use it was to apply to Kravonian affairs the -sterner standards of more steady-going, squeamish countries. A _coup -d'etat_ may well involve fighting; fighting naturally includes killing. -But are the promoters of the _coup_ therefore murderers? Murderers with -a difference, anyhow, according to Kravonian ideas, which Captain -Markart was inclined to share. Moreover, a _coup d'etat_ is war; the -suppression of information is legitimate in war. If the Prince of Slavna -could not find out for himself what had happened in the Palace, were his -opponents bound to tell him? In fact, given that an attempt to change -the succession in your own interest was not a crime, but a legitimate -political enterprise, the rest followed. - -Except Mistitch! It was difficult to swallow Mistitch. There was a -mixture of ingenuity and brutality about that move which not even -Kravonian notions could easily accept. If Stafnitz had gone--nay, if he -himself had been sent--probably Markart's conscience would not have -rebelled. But to send Captain Hercules--that was cogging the dice! Yet -he was very angry that Stenovics should have divined his feelings and -shut him up. The General distrusted his courage as well as his -conscience--there lay the deepest hurt to Markart's vanity; it was all -the deeper because in his heart he had to own that Stenovics read him -right. Not only the brazen conscience was lacking, but also the iron -nerve. - -Getting no answer to his unpleasantly pointed question, Lepage relapsed -into silence. He stood by the window, looking out on the lawn which -sloped down to the Krath. Beyond the river the lights of Slavna glowed -in the darkening sky. Things would be happening in Slavna soon; Lepage -might well look at the city thoughtfully. As a fact, however, his mind -was occupied with one problem only--where was Zerkovitch and how could -he get at him? For Lepage did not waver--he had taken his line. - -Presently, however, his professional instincts seemed to reassert -themselves. He opened a cupboard in the room and brought out a clean -pair of sheets, which he proceeded to arrange on the bed. Busy at this -task, he paused to smile at Markart and say: "We must do the best we -can, Captain. After all, we have both camped, I expect! Here's the bed -for you--you'll do finely." He went back to the cupboard and lugged out -a mattress. "And this is for me--the shake-down on the floor which I use -when I sleep in the King's room--or did use, I should say. In my -judgment, Captain, it's comfortable to go to bed on the floor--at least, -one can't fall." - -It was eight o'clock. They heard the outer door of the suite of rooms -open and shut. A man was moving about in the next room; if they could -judge by the sound of his steps, he also paid Dr. Natcheff a brief -visit. They heard the clink of dishes and of glass. - -"Dinner!" said Lepage. "Ah, that's not unwelcome! Have I permission?" -Markart nodded, and he opened the door. On the table in the -sitting-room was a savory dish, bread, and two bottles of wine. Captain -Sterkoff was just surveying the board he had spread, with his head on -one side. There was nothing peculiar in that; his head was permanently -stuck on one side--a list to starboard--since the Virgin with the lamp -had injured the vertebrae of his neck. But the attitude, together with -his beaked nose, made him look like a particularly vicious parrot. -Markart saw him through the open door and could not get the resemblance -out of his mind. - -"Supper, gentlemen!" said Sterkoff with malevolent mirth. "The Doctor -can't join you. He's a little upset and keeps his bed. A good appetite! -I trust not to be obliged to disturb you again to-night." - -Markart had come in by now, but he was too surly and sore to speak. -Without a word he plumped down into a chair by the table and rested his -chin on his hands, staring at the cloth. It was left to Lepage to bow to -Sterkoff, and to express their joint thanks. This task he performed with -sufficient urbanity. Then he broke into a laugh. - -"They must think it odd to see you carrying dishes and bottles about the -Palace, Captain?" - -"Possibly," agreed Sterkoff. "But you see, my friend, what they think in -the Palace doesn't matter very much, so long as none of them can get -outside." - -"Oh, they none of them spend the evening out?" - -"Would they wish to, when the King has an attack of influenza, and Dr. -Natcheff is in attendance? It would be unfeeling, Lepage!" - -"Horribly, Captain! Probably even the sentries would object?" - -"It's possible they would," Sterkoff agreed again. He drew himself up -and saluted Markart, who did not move or pay any attention. -"Good-night, Lepage." He turned to the door; his head seemed more cocked -on one side than ever. Lepage bade him "Good-night" very respectfully; -but as the key turned in the door, he murmured longingly: "Ah, if I -could knock that ugly mug the rest of the way off his shoulders!" - -He treated Markart with no less respect than he had accorded to -Sterkoff; he would not hear of sitting down at table with an officer, -but insisted on handing the dish and uncorking the wine. Markart -accepted his attentions and began to eat languidly, with utter want of -appetite. - -"Some wine, Captain, some wine to cheer you up in this tiresome duty of -guarding me!" cried Lepage, picking up a bottle in one hand and a glass -in the other. "Oh, but that wry-necked fellow has brought you a dirty -glass! A moment, Captain! I'll wash it." And off he bounded--not even -waiting to set down the bottle--into the little room beyond. - -His brain was working hard now, marshalling his resources against his -difficulties. The difficulties were thirty feet to fall, Sterkoff's -sentries, the broad, swift current of the Krath--for even in normal -times there was always a sentry on the bridge--then the search for -Zerkovitch in Slavna. His resources were a mattress, a spare pair of -sheets, and a phial half full of the draught which Dr. Natcheff had -prescribed for the King. - -"It's very unfortunate, but I've not the least notion how much would -kill him," thought Lepage, as he poured the medicine--presumably a -strong sedative--into the wine-glass and filled up with wine from the -bottle Sterkoff had provided. He came back, holding the glass aloft with -a satisfied air. "Now it's fit for a gentleman to drink out of," said -he, as he set it down by Markart's hand. The Captain took it up and -swallowed it at a draught. - -"Ugh! Corked, I think! Beastly, anyhow!" said he. - -"They poison us as well as shut us up!" cried Lepage in burlesque anger. -"Try the other bottle, Captain!" - -The other bottle was better, said Markart, and he drank pretty well the -whole of it, Lepage standing by and watching him with keen interest. It -was distressing not to know how much of the King's draught would kill; -it had been necessary to err on the safe side--the side safe for Lepage, -that is. - -Captain Markart thought he would smoke his cigar in the little room, -lying on the bed; he was tired and sleepy--very sleepy, there was no -denying it. Lepage sat down and ate and drank; he found no fault with -the wine in the first bottle. Then he went and looked at Markart. The -Captain lay in his shirt, breeches, and boots. He was sound asleep and -breathing heavily; his cigar had fallen on the sheet, but apparently had -been out before it fell. Lepage regarded him with pursed lips, shrugged -his shoulders, and slipped the Captain's revolver into his pocket. The -Captain's recovery must be left to Fate. - -For the next hour he worked at his pair of sheets, slicing, twisting, -and splicing. In the end he found himself possessed of a fairly stout -rope twelve or thirteen feet long, but he could find nothing solid to -tie it to near the window, except the bed, and that was a yard away. He -would still have a fall of some twenty feet, and the ground was hard -with a spring frost. There would be need of the mattress. He put out -all the lights in the room and cautiously raised the window. - -The night was dark, he could not see the ground. He stood there ten -minutes. Then he heard a measured tramp; a dark figure, just -distinguishable, came round the corner of the Palace, walked past the -window to the end of the building, turned, walked back, and disappeared. -Hurriedly Lepage struck a match and took the time. Again he waited, -again the figure came. Again he struck a light and took the time. He -went through this process five times before he felt reasonably sure that -he could rely on having ten minutes to himself if he started the moment -Sterkoff's sentry had gone round the corner of the building. - -He pulled the mattress up onto the sill of the window and waited. There -was no sound now but of Markart's stertorous breathing. But presently -the measured tramp below came, passed, turned, and passed away. Lepage -gave a last tug at the fastenings of his rope, threw the end out of -window, took the mattress, and dropped it very carefully as straight -down as he could. - -The next moment, in spite of Sterkoff, somebody had left the Palace. Why -not? The runaway was aware that the King was not really suffering from -influenza--he could spend an evening in Slavna without reproach! - -"I wish I knew the safest way to fall!" thought Lepage, dangling at the -end of his rope. It swayed about terribly; he waited awhile for it to -steady itself--he feared to miss the mattress; but he could not wait -long, or that measured tramp and that dark figure would come. There -would be a sudden spurt of light, and a report--and what of Lepage -then? He gathered his legs up behind his knees, took a long breath--and -fell. As luck would have it, though he landed on the very edge of the -mattress, yet he did land on it, and tumbled forward on his face, -shaken, but with bones intact. There was a numb feeling above his -knees--nothing worse than that. - -He drew another long breath. Heavy bodies--and even mattresses--fall -quickly; he must have seven or eight minutes yet! - -But no! Heavy bodies, even mattresses, falling quickly, make a noise. -Lepage, too, had come down with a thud, squashing hidden air out of the -interstices of the mattress. The silence of night will give resonance to -gentler sounds than that, which was as though a giant had squeezed his -mighty sponge. Lepage, on his numb knees, listened. The steps came, not -measured now, but running. The dark figure came running round the -corner. What next? Next the challenge--then the spurt of light and the -report! What of Lepage then? Nothing--so far as Lepage and the rest of -humanity for certainty knew. - -Of that nothing--actual or possible--Lepage did not approve. He hitched -the mattress onto his back, bent himself nearly double, and, thus both -burdened and protected, made for the river. He must have looked like a -turtle scurrying to the sea, lest he should be turned over--and so left -for soup in due season. - -"Who goes there? Halt! Halt!" - -The turtle scurried on; it was no moment to stop and discuss matters. - -The spurt of light, the report! There was a hole in the mattress, but -well above Lepage's head. Indeed, if hit at all, he was not most likely -to be hit in the head; that vital portion of him was tucked away too -carefully. He presented a broader aim; but the mattress masked him -nobly. - -There was another shot--the northwest corner of the mattress this time. -But the mattress was on the river's edge. The next instant it was -floating on the current of the Krath, and Sterkoff's sentry was -indulging in some very pretty practice at it. He hit it every time, -until the swift current carried it round the bend and out of sight. - -The whole thing seemed strange and rather uncanny to the sentry. He -grounded his rifle and wiped his brow. It had looked like a carpet -taking a walk on its own account--and then a swim! Superior officers -might be accustomed to such strange phenomena. The sentry was not. He -set off at a round pace to the guard-room; he did not even stay to -notice the white rope which dangled in the air from a first-floor -window. Had he stopped, he would have heard Markart's invincible, -drug-laden snoring. - -Lepage had separated himself from his good friend and ally, the -mattress, and dived under water while the sentry blazed away. He -welcomed the current which bore him rapidly from the dangerous -neighborhood of the Palace. He came to the surface fifty feet down -stream and made for the other side. He could manage no more than a very -slanting course, but he was a strong swimmer, lightly dressed, with an -in-door man's light kid shoes. He felt no distress; rather a vivid, -almost gleeful, excitement came upon him as he battled with the strong, -cold stream. He began to plume himself on the mattress. Only a Frenchman -would have thought of that! A Slavna man would have ran away with -unguarded flanks. A Volsenian would have stayed to kill the sentry, and -be shot down by Sterkoff's guard. Only a Frenchman would have thought of -the mattress! - -He made land a quarter of a mile below the Palace. Ah, it was colder on -the road there than struggling with the cold water! But his spirit was -not quenched. He laughed again--a trifle hysterically, perhaps. In spite -of Sterkoff he was spending the evening out! He set his feet for -Slavna--briskly, too! Nay, he ran, for warmth's sake, and because of -what the sentry might even now be reporting to Sterkoff, and, through -him, to General Stenovics. The thought brought him to a stand-still -again; there might be a cordon of sentries across the road! After a -moment's hesitation he broke away from the main road, struck due south, -and so ran when he could, walked when he must, two miles. - -He was getting terribly tired now, but not cold--rather he was -feverishly hot inside his clammy garments. He turned along a country -cross-road which ran west, and passed through a village, leaving the -Hotel de Paris on the main road far to his right. At last he reached the -main road south and turned up it, heading again for Slavna and for the -bridge which crossed the South River. He passed the bridge without being -challenged as the Cathedral clock struck midnight from St. Michael's -Square. The worst of his task was accomplished. If now he could find -Zerkovitch! - -But he was sore spent; running was out of the question now; he slunk -slowly and painfully along the south boulevard, clinging close to the -fences of the gardens, seeking the shelter of the trees which overhung -them. - -Draggled, hatless, dirty, infinitely weary, at last he reached -Zerkovitch's house at the corner where the boulevard and the Street of -the Fountain meet. He opened the garden gate and walked in. Spent as he -was, he breathed a "Bravo!" when he saw a light burning in the hall. He -staggered on, rang the bell, and fairly fell in a lump outside the door. - -He had done well; he, a man of peace, busy with clothes--he had done -well that night! But he was finished. When Zerkovitch opened the door, -he found little more than a heap of dank and dirty raiment; he hauled it -in and shut the door. He supported Lepage into the study, sat him down -by the fire, and got brandy for him to drink, pouring out full half a -tumbler. Lepage took it and drank the better part of it at a gulp. - -"The King died at five o'clock, Monsieur Zerkovitch," he said. He drank -the rest, let the tumbler fall with a crash in the fender, buried his -head on his breast, and fell into blank unconsciousness. - -He was out of the battle--as much as Markart, who slept the clock round -in spite of Stenovics's shakings and Dr. Natcheff's rubbings and -stimulants. But he had done his part. It was for Zerkovitch to do his -now. - -The King had died at five o'clock? It was certainly odd, that story, -because Zerkovitch had just returned from the offices of _The Patriot_; -and, immediately before he left, he had sent down to the foreman-printer -an official _communique_, to be inserted in his paper. It was to the -effect that Captain Mistitch and a guard of honor of fifty men would -leave Slavna next morning at seven o'clock for Dobrava, to be in -readiness to receive the King, who had made magnificent progress, and -was about to proceed to his country seat to complete his convalescence. - -Captain Mistitch and a guard of honor for Dobrava! Zerkovitch decided -that he would, if possible, ride ahead of them to Dobrava--that is, part -of the way. But first he called his old housekeeper and told her to put -Lepage to bed. - -"Don't worry about anything he says. He's raving," he added -thoughtfully. - -But poor Lepage raved no more that night. He did not speak again till -all was over. He had done his part. - -At five o'clock in the morning, Zerkovitch left Slavna, hidden under a -sack in a carrier's cart. He obtained a horse at a high price from a -farmer three miles along the road, and thence set out for the Castle at -his best speed. At six, Captain Mistitch, charged with Stafnitz's -careful instructions, set out with his guard of honor along the same -road--going to Dobrava to await the arrival of the King, who lay dead in -the Palace on the Krath! - -But since they started at six, and not at seven, as the official -_communique_ led Zerkovitch to suppose, he had an hour less to spare -than he thought. Moreover, they went not fifty strong, but one hundred. - -These two changes--of the hour and the force--were made as soon as -Stenovics and Stafnitz learned of Lepage's escape. A large force and a -midnight march would have aroused suspicion in Slavna. The General did -what he could safely do to meet the danger which the escape -suggested--the danger that news of the King's death might be carried to -Praslok before Mistitch and his escort got there. - - - - -XVII - -INGENIOUS COLONEL STAFNITZ - - -After his happy holiday the Prince slept well, and rose in a cheerful -mood--still joyful of heart. He anticipated that the day would bring him -a summons from his father; he had little doubt that in the course of a -personal interview he could persuade the King to agree to a postponement -of his journey. Of Sophy he meant to say nothing--by a reservation -necessary and not inexcusable. It was impossible not to take into -account the knowledge he had acquired of the state of the King's health. -The result of that condition was that his provision must, in all -likelihood, be for months only, and not for years. The task for the -months was to avoid disturbing the King's mind, so long as this course -was consistent with the maintenance of his own favorable position. It -must be remembered that no man in the kingdom built more on this latter -object than the King himself; no man was less a partisan of Countess -Ellenburg and of young Alexis than the husband of the one and the father -of the other. The royal line--the line which boasted Bourbon blood--was -for the King the only line of Stefanovitch. - -Of the attack prepared against him the Prince knew nothing--nothing even -of the King's mind having been turned against the Baroness Dobrava, -whom so short a time ago he had delighted to honor; nothing, of course, -of Stafnitz's audacious _coup_, nor of the secret plan which Stenovics -and the Colonel had made, and of which Mistitch was to be the -instrument. Of all the salient features of the situation, then, he was -ignorant, and his ignorance was shared by those about his person. On the -other hand, Stenovics had his finger on every thread save one--the -Lepage-Zerkovitch thread, if it may so be called. That was important, -but its importance might be nullified if Mistitch made good speed. - -On the whole, the odds were much in favor of the coterie. If by any -means they could prevent the King from coming alive and free to Slavna, -the game would be theirs. If he did come alive and free, their game -would probably be up. His presence would mean a hard fight--or a -surrender; and Slavna had no stomach for such a fight--though it would -be piously thankful to be rid of Sergius, whether as Prince or King, -without the necessity of an ordeal so severe. - -As a preliminary to the summons he anticipated, and to a possible stay -of some days with his father at Slavna, the Prince had details to -discuss and routine business to transact with Lukovitch, the captain of -his battery in Volseni. He was early on horseback; Sophy and Max von -Hollbrandt (Max's stay at the Castle was to end the next day) rode with -him as far as the gates of the city; there they left him and turned down -into the plain, to enjoy a canter on the banks of Lake Talti. The three -were to meet again for the mid-day meal at Praslok. Marie Zerkovitch had -been ailing, and kept her bed in the morning. The Prince's mounted guard -rode behind him and his friends to Volseni, for the sake of exercising -their horses. In the Castle there were left only Marie Zerkovitch and -the servants. The Prince did not anticipate that any message would come -from the Palace before noon at the earliest. - -Morning avocations pursued their usual peaceful and simple course at the -Castle; old Vassip, his wife, and the maids did their cleaning; Peter -Vassip saw to his master's clothes, and then, to save his father labor, -began to sluice the wooden causeway; the stablemen groomed their -horses--they had been warned that the Prince might want another mount -later in the day. Marie Zerkovitch lay in her bed, sleeping soundly -after a restless night. There seemed no hint of trouble in the air. It -must be confessed that up to now it looked as though Praslok would be -caught napping. - -It was Peter Vassip, busy on the causeway, who first saw Zerkovitch. He -rested and leaned on his mop to watch the head which rose over the hill, -the body that followed, the farm-horse lumbering along in a slow, -clumsy, unwilling gallop. The man was using stick and spur--he was -riding mercilessly. Peter ran down to the road and waited. A groom came -across from the stables and joined him. - -"He's got no call to treat the horse like that, whoever he is," the -groom observed. - -"Not unless he's on urgent business," said Peter, twirling the water -from his mop. - -Zerkovitch was up to them; he leaped from his horse. "I must see the -Prince," he cried, "and immediately!" - -"The Prince is at Volseni, sir; he rode over to see Captain Lukovitch." - -"When will he be back?" - -"We don't expect him till twelve o'clock." - -Zerkovitch snatched out his watch. - -"There's nobody here but Madame Zerkovitch, sir; she's still in bed, not -very well, sir." - -"Twelve o'clock!" muttered Zerkovitch, paying no heed to the news about -his wife. - -"The Baroness and Baron von Hollbrandt are out riding--" - -"Can you give me a fresh horse? I must ride on and find the Prince at -Volseni." - -"Oh yes, sir." He signed to the groom. "And hurry up!" he added. - -"The guard's here, of course?" - -"No, sir. They've gone with the Prince." - -Zerkovitch twitched his head irritably and again looked at his watch. -"There must be time," he said. "They can't be here at soonest for an -hour and a half." - -Peter Vassip did not understand him, but neither did he venture to ask -questions. - -"Your horse 'll be here in a minute, sir. I think you'll find the Prince -in his office over the city gate. He went to do business, not to drill, -this morning." - -Zerkovitch looked at him for a moment, wondering, perhaps, whether he -would be wise to tell his news. But what was the use of telling Peter -Vassip? Or his own wife? What could she do? It was for the Prince to say -who should be told. The one thing was to find the Prince. There was -time--at the very least an hour and a half. - -The groom brought the fresh horse, and Zerkovitch began to mount. - -"A glass of wine, sir?" Peter Vassip suggested. He had marked -Zerkovitch's pale face and strained air; he had wondered to see his -clothes sprinkled with whitey-brown fibres--traces of the sack under -whose cover he had slid out of Slavna. - -Zerkovitch was in the saddle. "No," he answered. "But a bumper, Peter, -when I've found the Prince!" He set spurs to his horse and was off at a -gallop for Volseni; the road, though high on the hills, was nearly level -now. - -Peter scratched his head as he looked after him for a moment; then he -returned to his mop. - -He was just finishing his task, some twenty minutes later, when he heard -Sophy's laugh. She and Hollbrandt came from a lane which led up from the -lake and joined the main road a hundred yards along towards Volseni. -Peter ran and took their horses, and they mounted the causeway in -leisurely, pleasant chat. Sophy was in her sheepskin uniform; her cheeks -were pale, but the Star glowed. The world seemed good to her that -morning. - -"And that is, roughly, the story of my life," she said with a laugh, as -she reached the top of the causeway and leaned against the rude -balustrade which ran up the side of it. - -"A very interesting one--even very remarkable," he said, returning her -laugh. "But much more remains to be written, I don't doubt, Baroness." - -"Something, perhaps," said Sophy. - -"A good deal, I imagine!" - -She shot a mischievous glance at him: she knew that he was trying to -lure from her an avowal of her secret. "Who can tell? It all seems like -a dream sometimes, and dreams end in sudden awakenings, you know." - -"If it's a dream, you make an excellent dream-lady, Baroness." - -Peter Vassip put his mop and pail down by the stables, and came up and -stood beside them. - -"Did the mare carry you well to-day, sir?" he asked Max. - -"Admirably, Peter. We had a splendid ride--at least I thought so. I hope -the Baroness--?" - -Sophy threw out her arms as though to embrace the gracious world. "I -thought it beautiful; I think everything beautiful to-day. I think you -beautiful, Baron von Hollbrandt--and Peter is beautiful--and so is your -mother, and so is your father, Peter. And I half believe that, just this -morning--this one splendid morning--I'm beautiful myself. Yes, in spite -of this horrible mark on my cheek!" - -"I hear something," said Peter Vassip. - -"Just this morning--this one splendid morning--I agree with you," -laughed Max. "Not even the mark shall change my mind! Come, you love the -mark--the Red Star--don't you?" - -"Well, yes," said Sophy, with a little, confidential nod and smile. - -"I hear something," said Peter Vassip, with his hand to his ear. - -Sophy turned to him, smiling. "What do you hear, Peter?" - -He gave a sudden start of recollection. "Ah, has that anything to do -with Monsieur Zerkovitch?" - -"Monsieur Zerkovitch?" broke from them both. - -"He's been here; he's ridden at a gallop on to Volseni--to find the -Prince." He added briefly all there was to add--his hand at his ear all -the time. - -"Hum! That looks like news," said Max. "What can it be?" - -"He didn't stop even to tell Marie! It must be urgent." - -They looked in one another's faces. "Can there be--be anything wrong in -Slavna?" - -"You mean--the troops?" - -"I had thought of that." - -"I can think of nothing but that. If it were anything from the Palace, -it would come by a royal courier sooner than by any other hand." - -"I can hear plainly now," said Peter Vassip. "Listen!" - -They obeyed him, but their ears were not so well trained. A dull, -indefinite sound was all they could distinguish. - -"Horses--a number of them. Mounted men it must be--the hoofs are so -regular. Cavalry!" - -"It's the Prince coming back from Volseni!" cried Sophy. - -"No, it's from the other direction; and, besides, there are too many for -that." - -Mounted men on the Slavna road--and too many to be the Prince's guard! - -"What can it be?" asked Sophy in a low voice. - -"I don't know. Zerkovitch's arrival must be connected with the same -thing, I think." - -"There! There are their shakoes coming over the rise of the hill!" cried -Peter Vassip. - -The next moment showed the company. They rode in fours, with sergeants -on the flanks. The officer in command was behind--the three on the -causeway could not see him yet. They were Hussars of the King's Guard, -the best regiment in the army. The Prince of Slavna had made them good -soldiers--they hated him for it. But Stafnitz was their colonel. On they -came; in their blue tunics and silver braid they made a brave show in -the sunshine. - -The three watched now without word or motion. The sudden sight held them -spellbound. Not one of them thought of sending to warn the Prince. If -they had, the thought would have been useless, unless it had chimed in -with Mistitch's will. Twenty men could have been on them before there -was time to saddle a horse. If the expedition were a hostile one, the -Castle was caught napping in very truth! - -Sophy stood forward a pace in front of her companions; her hand rested -on the little revolver which Monseigneur had given her. - -On came the company; the foremost file reached within twenty yards of -the causeway. There they halted. Half of them dismounted, each man as he -did so intrusting his horse to his next fellow. Half of the fifty thus -left mounted repeated this operation, leaving the remaining twenty-five -in charge of all the horses. The seventy-five took position, four deep, -on the road. They separated, lining either side. - -The figure of their commander now appeared. He rode to the foot of the -causeway, then dismounted, and gave his horse to the sergeant who -attended him. His men followed and drew up in the road, blocking the -approach to the Castle. Big Mistitch began to ascend the causeway, a -broad smile on his face. It was a great moment for Captain Hercules--the -day of revenge for which he had waited in forced patience and discreet -unobtrusiveness. It was a critical day, also, in view of the -instructions he had. To do him justice, he was not afraid. - -Sophy saw and knew. This must have been the news that Zerkovitch -carried, that he had galloped on to tell to the Prince at Volseni. Some -event--some unknown and untoward turn of fortune--had loosed Mistitch on -them! That was all she had time to realize before Mistitch saluted her -and spoke. - -"I have the honor of addressing the Baroness Dobrava?" - -"You know me well, I think, Captain Mistitch, and I know you." - -"Our journey together will be all the pleasanter for that." - -"Your business with me, please?" - -"I have it in command from his Majesty to escort you to Slavna--to the -Palace and into his presence. The King himself will then acquaint you -with his wishes." - -"You're a strange messenger to send." - -"That's a point to put to my superior officer, Colonel Stafnitz, who -sent me, Baroness." - -Sophy pointed at his men. "You ride strongly supported!" - -"Again the Colonel's orders, Baroness. I confess the precautions seemed -to me excessive. I had no doubt you would willingly obey his Majesty's -commands. Here, by-the-way, is the written order." He produced the order -the King had signed before his death. - -Sophy had been thinking. Neither her courage nor her cunning forsook -her. She waved the document away. "I can take your word, Captain? You're -making no mistake to-day?--I really am Baroness Dobrava--not somebody -else with whom you have a feud?" She laughed at him gayly and went on: -"Well, I'm ready. I'm dressed for a ride--and I'll ride with you -immediately. In two minutes we'll be off." She saw a groom in the road -staring at the troopers, and called to him to bring her a horse. - -This prompt obedience by no means suited Mistitch's book. It forced him -either to show his hand or to ride off with Sophy, leaving the Prince to -his devices--and, in a little while, to his revenge. - -"I mustn't hurry you. You have some preparations--?" - -"None," said Sophy. Her horse was led out into the road. - -"You'll at least desire to acquaint his Royal Highness--?" - -"Not at all necessary. Baron von Hollbrandt can do that later on." - -Mistitch looked puzzled. Sophy smiled; her intuition had been right. The -attack on her was a feint, her arrest a blind; the Prince was the real -object of the move. She stepped down towards Mistitch. - -"I see my horse is ready. We can start at once, Captain," she said. - -"I'm instructed to express to the Prince regret that it should be -necessary--" - -"The regret will be conveyed to him. Come, Captain!" - -But Mistitch barred her way. - -"His Royal Highness is in the Castle?" he asked. His voice grew angry -now; he feared the great stroke had failed; he saw that Sophy played -with him. How would he and his escort look riding back to Slavna with -nothing to show for their journey save the capture of one unresisting -woman--a woman whom they dared not harm while the Prince remained free, -and might become all-powerful? - -"If he had been, you'd have known it by now, I think," smiled Sophy. -"No, the Prince isn't at the Castle." - -"I'll see that for myself!" Mistitch cried, taking a step forward. - -With a low laugh Sophy drew aside, passed him, and ran down the -causeway. In an instant she darted between the ranks of Mistitch's men -and reached her horse. The groom mounted her. She looked up to Mistitch -and called to him gayly: - -"Now for Slavna, Captain! And hurry, or you'll be left behind!" - -Her wit was too quick for him. Max von Hollbrandt burst out laughing; -Peter Vassip grinned. - -"What are you waiting for, Captain?" asked Max. "Your prisoner's only -too anxious to go with you, you see!" - -"I'll search the Castle first!" he cried in a rage which made him forget -his part. - -Peter Vassip sprang forward and barred the way. Mistitch raised his -mighty arm. But Sophy's voice rang out gayly: - -"Nonsense, Peter! There's nothing to conceal. Let the Captain pass!" - -Her words stopped Mistitch--he feared a trap. Max saw it and mocked him. -"Don't be afraid, Captain--take fifty men in with you. The garrison -consists of a lady in bed, an old man, and five female servants." - -Sophy heard and laughed. Even the troopers began to laugh now. Mistitch -stood on the top of the causeway, irresolute, baffled, furious. - -But behind his stupidity lay the cunning astuteness of Stafnitz, the -ingenious bit of devilry. Mistitch's name availed where his brain could -not. For the moment the Prince made little of the Crown which had become -his; when he heard Zerkovitch's news, his overpowering thought was that -the woman he loved might be exposed to the power and the insults of -Mistitch. Sophy was playing a skilful game for him, but he did not know -it. - -"I hear something," said Peter Vassip again, whispering to Max von -Hollbrandt. - -Yes, there was the galloping of horses on the Volseni road! - -Colonel Stafnitz had not miscalculated. - -Now Mistitch heard the sound. His heavy face brightened. He ran down the -causeway, loudly ordering his men to mount. He was no longer at a loss. -He had his cue now--the cue Stafnitz had given him. - - - - -XVIII - -TO THE FAITHFUL CITY - - -The King had died yesterday--yet none had told his heir! Mistitch had -set out for Dobrava with fifty men to wait for the King--who was dead! -The dead King would never go to Dobrava--and no messenger came to the -new King at Praslok! - -Zerkovitch's news was enough to raise the anger of a King--and Sergius -blazed with it. But more potent still was his wrathful fear as he -thought of Sophy at Praslok, in the power of Captain Hercules. - -He had his guard of twenty mounted men with him. With these he at once -set forth, bidding Lukovitch collect all the men he could and follow him -as speedily as possible. If Mistitch had really gone to Dobrava, then he -would find him there and have the truth out of him. But if, as the -Prince hardly doubted, he was making for Praslok, there was time to -intercept him, time to carry off Sophy and the other inmates of the -Castle, send them back to safety within the walls of Volseni, and -himself ride on to meet Mistitch with his mind at ease. - -Relying on Zerkovitch's information, he assumed that the troopers had -not started from Slavna till seven in the morning. They had started at -six. He reckoned also on Zerkovitch's statement, that they were but -fifty strong. They were a hundred. Yet, had he known the truth, he could -not have used more haste--and he would not have waited for another man! -He stayed to tell no man in Volseni the news about his father--except -Lukovitch. But as his twenty rode out of the gate behind him, he turned -his head to Zerkovitch, who trotted beside him--for Zerkovitch neither -could nor would rest till the game was played--and said: "Tell them that -the King is dead, and that I reign." Zerkovitch whispered the news to -the man next him, and it ran along the line. A low, stern cheer, hardly -more than a murmured assurance of loyalty and service, came from the -lips of the men in sheepskins. - -Mistitch saw them coming, and turned to his troop; he had time for a -little speech--and Stafnitz had taught him what to say: "Men, you are -servants of the King, and of the King only. Not even the Prince of -Slavna can command you against the King's orders. The King's orders are -that we take Baroness Dobrava to Slavna, no matter who resists. If need -be, these orders stand even against the Prince." - -Stafnitz's soldiers--the men he petted, the men who had felt the -Prince's stern hand--were only too glad to hear it. To strike for the -King and yet against the hated Prince--it was a luxury, a happy and -unlooked-for harmonizing of their duty and their pleasure. Their -answering cheer was loud and fierce. - -It struck harsh on the ears of the advancing Prince. His face grew hard -and strained as he heard the shouts and saw the solid body of men across -his path, barring access to his own castle. And within a yard or two of -their ranks, by the side of the road, sat the figure which he knew so -well and so well loved. - -Now Mistitch played his card--that move in the game which Sophy's cool -submission to his demand had for the moment thwarted, but to which the -Prince's headlong anger and fear now gave an opening--the opening which -Stafnitz had from the first foreseen. It would need little to make the -fiery Prince forget prudence when he was face to face with Mistitch. It -was not a safe game for Mistitch personally--both Stafnitz and he knew -that. But Captain Hercules was confident. He would not be caught twice -by the Volseni trick of sword! The satisfaction of his revenge, and the -unstinted rewards that his Colonel offered, made it worth his while to -accept the risk, and rendered it grateful to his heart. - -Sophy sat smiling. She would fain have averted the encounter, and had -shaped her manoeuvres to that end. It was not to be so, it seemed. -Now, she did not doubt Monseigneur's success. But she wished that -Zerkovitch had not reached Volseni so quickly, that the Prince had -stayed behind his walls till his plans were ready; and that she was -going a prisoner to Slavna to see the King, trusting to her face, her -tongue, her courage, and the star of her own fortune. Never had her -buoyant self-confidence run higher. - -On the top of the causeway, Max von Hollbrandt looked to his revolver, -Peter Vassip loosened his knife in its leather sheath. A window above -the gate opened, and Marie Zerkovitch's frightened face looked out. The -women-servants jostled old Vassip in the doorway. The grooms stood -outside the stables. No one moved--only the Prince's little troop came -on. When they were fifty yards away, Mistitch cried to his men: "Draw -swords!" and himself pricked his horse with his spur and rode up to -where Sophy was. - -Mistitch drew his horse up parallel to Sophy's, head to tail, on her -right side, between her and the approaching force. With the instinct of -hatred she shrank away from him; it had all been foreseen and rehearsed -in Stafnitz's mind! Mistitch cried loudly: "In the King's name, Baroness -Dobrava!" He leaned from the saddle and caught her right wrist in his -huge hand: he had the justification that, at his first attempt to touch -her, Sophy's hand had flown to her little revolver and held it now. -Mistitch crushed her wrist--the revolver fell to the ground. Sophy gave -one cry of pain. Mistitch dropped her wrist and reached his arm about -her waist. He was pulling her from her horse, while again he cried out: -"In the King's name! On guard!" - -It was a high jump from the top of the causeway, but two men took it -side by side--Max von Hollbrandt, revolver in hand, Peter Vassip with -knife unsheathed. - -As they leaped, another shout rang out: "Long live King Sergius!" - -The Prince rode his fastest, but faster still rode Zerkovitch. He -outpaced the Prince and rode right in among Mistitch's men, crying -loudly again and again, unceasingly: "The King is dead! The King is -dead! The King is dead!" - -Then came the Prince; he rode full at Mistitch. His men followed him, -and dashed with a shock against the troopers of Mistitch's escort. As -they rode, they cried: "Long live King Sergius!" They had unhorsed a -dozen men and wounded four or five before they realized that they met -with no resistance. Mistitch's men were paralyzed. The King was -dead--they were to fight against the King! The magic of the name worked. -They dropped the points of their swords. The Volsenians, hesitating to -strike men who did not defend themselves, puzzled and in doubt, turned -to their Bailiff--their King--for his orders. - -As the Prince came up, Mistitch hurled Sophy from him; she fell from her -horse, but fell on the soft, grassy road-side, and sprang up unhurt save -for a cruel pain in her crushed wrist. She turned her eyes whither all -eyes were turned now. The general battle was stayed, but not the single -combat. For a moment none moved save the two who were now to engage. - -The fight of the Street of the Fountain fell to be fought again. For -when Peter Vassip was darting forward, knife in hand, with a spring like -a mountain goat's, his master's voice called: "Mine, Peter, mine!" It -was the old cry when they shot wild-boar in the woods about Dobrava, and -it brought Peter Vassip to a stand. Max von Hollbrandt, too, lowered his -pointed revolver. Who should stand between his quarry and the King, -between Sophy's lover and the man who had so outraged her? Big Mistitch -was the King's game, and the King's only, that day. - -Mistitch's chance was gone, and he must have known it. Where was the -sergeant who had undertaken to cover him? He had turned tail. Where was -the enveloping rush of his men, which should have engulfed and paralyzed -the enemy? Paralysis was on his men themselves; they believed -Zerkovitch, and lacked appetite for the killing of a King. Where was his -triumphant return to Slavna, his laurels, his rewards, his wonderful -swaggerings at the Golden Lion? They were all gone. Even though he -killed the King, there were two dozen men vowed to have his life. They -must have it--but at what price? His savage valor set the figure high. - -It was the old fight again, but not in the old manner. There was no -delicate sword-play, no fluctuating fortunes in the fray. It was all -stem and short. The King had not drawn his sword, Mistitch did not seek -to draw his. Two shots rang out sharply--that was all. The King reeled -in his saddle, but maintained his seat. Big Mistitch threw his hands -above his head with a loud cry and fell with a mighty crash on the road, -shot through the head. Peter Vassip ran to the King and helped him to -dismount, while Max von Hollbrandt held his horse. Sophy hurried to -where they laid him by the road-side. - -"Disarm these fellows!" cried Zerkovitch. - -But Mistitch's escort were in no mood to wait for this operation; nor to -stay and suffer the anger of the King. With their leader's fall the last -of heart was out of them. Wrenching themselves free from such of the -Volsenians as sought to arrest their flight, they turned their horses' -heads and fled, one and all, for Slavna. The King's men attempted no -pursuit; they clustered round the spot where he lay. - -"I'm hit," he said to Sophy, "but not badly, I think." - -From the Castle door, down the causeway, came Marie Zerkovitch, weeping -passionately, wringing her hands. The soldiers parted their close ranks -to let her through. She came to the road-side where Sophy supported -Monseigneur's head upon her knees. Sophy looked up and saw her. Marie -did not speak. She stood there sobbing and wringing her hands over Sophy -and the wounded King. - -That afternoon--an hour after the first of the straggling rout of -Mistitch's escort came in--King Alexis died suddenly! So ran the -official notice, endorsed by Dr. Natcheff's high authority. The coterie -were in up to their necks; they could not go back now; they must go -through with it. Countess Ellenburg took to her knees; Stenovics and -Stafnitz held long conversations. Every point of tactical importance in -the city was occupied by troops. Slavna was silent, expectant, curious. - -Markart awoke at five o'clock, heavy of head, dry in the mouth, sick and -ill. He found himself no longer in the King's suite, but in one of the -apartments which Stafnitz had occupied. He was all alone; the door stood -open. He understood that he was no more a prisoner; he knew that the -King was dead! - -But who else was dead--and who alive--and who King in Slavna? - -He forced himself to rise, and hurried through the corridors of the -Palace. They were deserted; there was nobody to hinder him, nobody of -whom to ask a question. He saw a decanter of brandy standing near the -door of one room, and drank freely of it. Then he made his way into the -garden. He saw men streaming over the bridge towards Slavna, and -hastened after them as quickly as he could. His head was still in a -maze; he remembered nothing after drinking the glass of wine which -Lepage the valet had given him. But he was possessed by a strong -excitement, and he followed obstinately in the wake of the throng which -set from the Palace and the suburbs into Slavna. - -The streets were quiet; soldiers occupied the corners of the ways; they -looked curiously at Markart's pale face and disordered uniform. A dull -roar came from the direction of St. Michael's Square, and thither -Markart aimed his course. He found all one side of the Square full of a -dense crowd, swaying, jostling, talking. On the other side troops were -massed; in an open space in front of the troops, facing the crowd, was -Colonel Stafnitz, and by his side a little boy on a white pony. - -Markart was too far off to hear what Stafnitz said when he began to -speak--nay, the cheers of the troops behind the Colonel came so sharp on -his words as almost to drown them; and after a moment's hesitation (as -it seemed to Markart), the crowd of people on the other side of the -Square echoed back the acclamations of the soldiers. - -All Countess Ellenburg's ambitions were at stake; for Stenovics and -Stafnitz it was a matter of life itself now, so daringly had they raised -their hands against King Sergius. Countess Ellenburg had indeed -prayed--and now prayed all alone in a deserted Palace--but not one of -the three had hesitated. At the head of a united army, in the name of a -united people, Stafnitz had demanded the proclamation of young Alexis as -King. For an hour Stenovics had made a show of demurring; then he bowed -to the national will. That night young Alexis enjoyed more honor than he -had asked of Lepage the valet--he was called not Prince, but Majesty. He -was King in Slavna, and the first work to which they set his childish -hand was the proclamation of a state of siege. - -Slavna chose him willingly--or because it must at the bidding of the -soldiers. But Volseni was of another mind. They would not have the -German woman's son to reign over them. Into that faithful city the -wounded King threw himself with all his friends. - -The body of Mistitch lay all day and all night by the wayside. Next -morning at dawn the King's grooms came back from Volseni and buried it -under a clump of trees by the side of the lane running down to Lake -Talti. Their curses were the only words spoken over the grave; and they -flattened the earth level with the ground again, that none might know -where the man rested who had lifted his hand against their master. - -The King was carried to Volseni sore stricken; they did not know whether -he would live or die. He had a dangerous wound in the lungs, and, to -make matters worse, the surgical skill available in Volseni was very -primitive. - -But in that regard fortune brought aid, and brought also to Sophy a -strange conjuncture of the new life with the old. The landlord of the -inn sent word to Lukovitch that two foreign gentlemen had arrived at his -house that afternoon, and that the passport of one of them described him -as a surgeon; the landlord had told him how things stood, and he was -anxious to render help. - -It was Basil Williamson. Dunstanbury and he, accompanied by Henry Brown, -Dunstanbury's servant, had reached Volseni that day on their return from -a tour in the Crimea and round the shores of the Sea of Azof. - - - - -XIX - -THE SILVER RING - - -It was late at night, and quiet reigned in Volseni--the quiet not of -security, but of ordered vigilance. A light burned in every house; men -lined the time-worn walls and camped in the market-place; there were -scouts out on the road as far as Praslok. No news came from outside, and -no news yet from the room in the guard-house where the wounded King lay. -The street on which the room looked was empty, save for one man, who -walked patiently up and down, smoking a cigar. Dunstanbury waited for -Basil Williamson, who was in attendance on the King and was to pronounce -to Volseni whether he could live or must die. - -Dunstanbury had been glad that Basil could be of use, but for the rest -he had listened to the story which Zerkovitch told him with an amused, -rather contemptuous indifference--with an Englishman's wonder why other -countries cannot manage their affairs better, and something of a -traveller's pleasure at coming in for a bit of such vivid, almost -blazing "local color" in the course of his journey. But whether Alexis -reigned, or Sergius, mattered nothing to him, and, in his opinion, very -little to anybody else. - -Nor had he given much thought to the lady whose name figured so -prominently in Zerkovitch's narrative, the Baroness Dobrava. Such a -personage seemed no less appropriate to the surroundings than the rest -of the story--no less appropriate and certainly not a whit more -important. Of course he hoped Basil would make a good report, but his -mind was not disturbed; his chief hope was that the claims of humanity -would not prolong his stay in Volseni beyond a few days. It was a -picturesque little place, but not one for a long visit; and in any case -he was homeward bound now, rather eager for the pleasures of the London -season after his winter journey--the third he had made in the interests -of a book on Russia which he had in contemplation, a book designed to -recommend him as an expert student of foreign affairs. He could hardly -consider that these goings-on in Kravonia came within the purview of a -serious study of his subject. But it was a pleasant, moonlit night, the -old street was very quaint, the crisis he had happened on bizarre and -amusing. He smoked his cigar and waited for Basil without impatience. - -He had strolled a hundred yards away and just turned to loiter back, -when he saw a figure come out of the guard-house, pause for a moment, -and then advance slowly towards him. The sheepskin cap and tunic made -him think at first that the stranger was one of the Volsenian levy; the -next moment he saw the skirt. At once he guessed that he was in the -presence of Baroness Dobrava, the heroine of the piece, as he had called -her in his own mind and with a smile. - -Evidently she meant to speak to him; he threw away his cigar and walked -to meet her. As they drew near to each other he raised his hat. Sophy -bowed gravely. Thus they met for the first time since Sophy washed her -lettuces in the scullery at Morpingham, and, at the young lord's -bidding, fetched Lorenzo the Magnificent a bone. This meeting was, -however remotely, the result of that. Dunstanbury had started her career -on the road which had led her to where she was. - -"I've seen Mr. Williamson," she said, "and he knows me now. But you -don't yet, do you, Lord Dunstanbury? And anyhow, perhaps, you wouldn't -remember." - -She had been a slip of a girl when he saw her last, in a print frock, -washing lettuces. With a smile and a deprecatory gesture he confessed -his ignorance and his surprise. "Really, I'm afraid I--I don't. I've -been such a traveller, and meet so many--" An acquaintance with Baroness -Dobrava was among the last with which he would have credited himself--or -perhaps (to speak his true thoughts), charged his reputation. - -"Mr. Williamson knew me almost directly--the moment I reminded him of my -mark." She touched her cheek. Dunstanbury looked more closely at her, a -vague recollection stirring in him. Sophy's face was very sad, yet she -smiled just a little as she added: "I remember you so well--and your dog -Lorenzo. I'm Sophy Grouch of Morpingham, and I became Lady Meg's -companion. Now do you remember?" - -He stepped quickly up to her, peered into her eyes, and saw the Red -Star. - -"Good Heavens!" he said, smiling at her in an almost helpless way. -"Well, that is curious!" he added. "Sophy Grouch! And you are--Baroness -Dobrava?" - -"There's nothing much in that," said Sophy. "I'll tell you all about -that soon, if we have time. To-night I can think of nothing but -Monseigneur. Mr. Williamson has extracted the bullet, but I'm afraid -he's very bad. You won't take Mr. Williamson away until--until it's -settled--one way or the other, will you?" - -"Neither Basil nor I will leave so long as we can be of the least -service to you," he told her. - -With a sudden impulse she put her hands in his. "It's strangely good to -find you here to-night--so strange and so good! It gives me strength, -and I want strength. Oh, my friends are brave men, but you--well, -there's something in home and the same blood, I suppose." - -Dunstanbury thought that there was certainly something in having two -Englishmen about, instead of Kravonians only, but such a blunt sentiment -might not be acceptable. He pressed her hands as he released them. - -"I rejoice at the chance that brings us here. You can have every -confidence in Basil. He's a first-rate man. But tell me about yourself. -We have time now, haven't we?" - -"Really, I suppose we have! Monseigneur has been put to sleep. But I -couldn't sleep. Come, we'll go up on the wall." - -They mounted on to the city wall, just by the gate, and leaned against -the mouldering parapets. Below lay Lake Talti in the moonlight, and -beyond it the masses of the mountains. Yet while Sophy talked, -Dunstanbury's eyes seldom left her face; nay, once or twice he caught -himself not listening, but only looking, tracing how she had grown from -Sophy Grouch in her scullery to this. He had never forgotten the strange -girl: once or twice he and Basil had talked of her; he had resented Lady -Meg's brusque and unceremonious dismissal of her protegee; in his -memory, half-overgrown, had lain the mark on Sophy's cheek. Now here she -was, in Kravonia, of all places--Baroness Dobrava, of all people! And -what else, who knew? The train of events which had brought this about -was strange; yet his greater wonder was for the woman herself. - -"And here we are!" she ended with a woful smile. "If Monseigneur lives, -I think we shall win. For the moment we can do no more than hold -Volseni; I think we can do that. But presently, when he's better and can -lead us, we shall attack. Down in Slavna they won't like being ruled by -the Countess and Stenovics as much as they expect. Little by little we -shall grow stronger." Her voice rose a little. "At last Monseigneur will -sit firm on his throne," she said. "Then we'll see what we can do for -Kravonia. It's a fine country, and rich, Lord Dunstanbury, and outside -Slavna the people are good material. We shall be able to make it very -different--if Monseigneur lives." - -"And if not?" he asked, in a low voice. - -"What is it to me except for Monseigneur? If he dies--!" Her hands -thrown wide in a gesture of despair ended her sentence. - -If she lived and worked for Kravonia, it was for Monseigneur's sake. -Without him, what was Kravonia to her? Such was her mood; plainly she -took no pains to conceal it from Dunstanbury. The next moment she turned -to him with a smile. "You think I talk strangely, saying: 'We'll do this -and that'? Yes, you must, and it's suddenly become strange to me to say -it--to say it to you, because you've brought back the old things to my -mind, and all this is so out of keeping with the old things--with Sophy -Grouch, and Julia Robins, and Morpingham! But until you came it didn't -seem strange. Everything that has happened since I came to this country -seemed to lead up to it--to bring it about naturally and irresistibly. I -forgot till just now how funny it must sound to you--and how--how bad, I -suppose. Well, you must accustom yourself to Kravonia. It's not Essex, -you know." - -"If the King lives?" he asked. - -"I shall be with Monseigneur if he lives," she answered. - -Yes, it was very strange; yet already, even now--when he had known her -again for half an hour, had seen her and talked to her--gradually and -insidiously it began to seem less strange, less fantastic, more natural. -Dunstanbury had to give himself a mental shake to get back to Essex and -to Sophy Grouch. Volseni set old and gray amid the hills, the King whose -breath struggled with his blood for life, the beautiful woman who would -be with the King if and so long as he lived--these were the present -realities he saw in vivid immediate vision; they made the shadows of the -past seem not indeed dim--they kept all their distinctness of outline in -memory--but in their turn fantastic, and in no relation to the actual. -Was that the air of Kravonia working on him? Or was it a woman's voice, -the pallid pride of a woman's face? - -"In Slavna they call me a witch," she said, "and tell terrible tales -about this little mark--my Red Star. But here in Volseni they like -me--yes, and I can win over Slavna, too, if I get the opportunity. No, I -sha'n't be a weakness to Monseigneur if he lives." - -"You'll be--?" - -"His wife?" she interrupted. "Yes." She smiled again--nay, almost -laughed. "That seems worst of all--worse than anything else?" - -Dunstanbury allowed himself to smile too. "Well, yes, of course that's -true," he said. "Out of Kravonia, anyhow. What's true in Kravonia I -really don't know yet." - -"I suppose it's true in Kravonia too. But what I tell you is -Monseigneur's will about me." - -He looked hard at her. "You love him?" he asked. - -"As my life, and more," said Sophy, simply. - -At last Dunstanbury ceased to look at her; he laid his elbows on the -battlements and stood there, his eyes roaming over the lake in the -valley to the mountains beyond. Sophy left his side, and began to walk -slowly up and down the rugged, uneven, overgrown surface of the walls. - -The moon was sinking in the sky; there would be three or four dark hours -before the dawn. A man galloped up to the gate and gave a countersign in -return to a challenge; the heavy gates rolled open; he rode in; another -rode out and cantered off along the road towards Praslok. There was -watch and ward--Volseni was not to be caught napping as Praslok had -been. Whether the King lived or died, his Volsenians were on guard. -Dunstanbury turned his back on the hills and came up to Sophy. - -"We Essex folk ought to stand by one another," he said. "It's the merest -chance that has brought me here, but I'm glad of the chance now. And -it's beginning to feel not the least strange. So long as you've need of -help, count me among your soldiers." - -"But you oughtn't to mix yourself up--" - -"Did you act on that principle when you came to Kravonia?" - -With a smile Sophy gave him her hand. "So be it. I accept your -service--for Monseigneur." - -"I give it to you," he persisted. - -"Yes--and all that is mine I give to Monseigneur," said Sophy. - -Any man who meets, or after an interval of time meets again, an -attractive woman, only to find that her thoughts are pre-empted and -totally preoccupied, suffers an annoyance not the less real because he -sees the absurdity of it; it is to find shut a gate which with better -luck might have been open. The unusual circumstances of his new -encounter with Sophy did not save Dunstanbury from this common form of -chagrin; the tragic element in her situation gave it a rather uncommon -flavor. He would fain have appeared as the knight-errant to rescue such -beauty in such distress; but the nature of the distress did not seem -favorable to the proper romantic sequel. - -He made his offer of service to her; she assigned him to the service of -Monseigneur! He laughed at his own annoyance--and determined to serve -Monseigneur as well as he could. At the same time, while conceding most -amply--nay, even feeling--Monseigneur's excuse, he could not admire his -policy in the choice of a bride. That was doubtless a sample of how -things were done in Kravonia! He lived to feel the excuse more -strongly--and to pronounce the judgment with greater hesitation. - -Sophy had given him her hand again as she accepted his offer in -Monseigneur's name.--He had not yet released it when she was called from -the street below in a woman's voice--a voice full of haste and alarm. - -"Marie Zerkovitch calls me! I must go at once," she said. "I expect -Monseigneur is awake." She hurried off with a nod of farewell. - -Dunstanbury stayed a little while on the wall, smoking a cigarette, and -then went down into the street. The door of the guard-house was shut; -all was very quiet as he passed along to the market-place where the inn -was situated. He went up to his room overlooking the street, and, taking -off his coat only, flung himself on the bed. He was minded thus to await -Basil Williamson's return with news of the King. But the excitement of -the day had wearied him; in ten minutes he was sound asleep. - -He was aroused by Basil Williamson's hand on his shoulder. The young -doctor, a slim-built, dark, wiry fellow, looked very weary and sad. - -"How has it gone?" asked Dunstanbury, sitting up. - -"It's been a terrible night. I'm glad you've had some sleep. He awoke -after an hour; the hemorrhage had set in again. I had to tell him it was -a thousand to one against him. He sent for her, and made me leave them -alone together. There was only one other room, and I waited there with a -little woman--a Madame Zerkovitch--who cried terribly. Then he sent for -Lukovitch, who seems to be the chief man in the place. Presently -Lukovitch went away, and I went back to the King. I found him terribly -exhausted; she was there, sitting by him and whispering to him now and -then; she seemed calm. Presently Lukovitch came back; the Zerkovitches -and the German man came too. They all came in--the King would not hear -my objections--and with them came a priest. And then and there the King -married her! She spoke to nobody except to me before the service began, -and then she only said: 'Monseigneur wishes it.' I waited till the -service was done, but I could bear no more. I went outside while they -shrived him. But I was called back hurriedly. Then the end came very -soon--in less than half an hour. He sent everybody away except her and -me, and when I had done all that was possible, I went as far off as I -could--into the corner of the room. I came back at a call from her just -before he died. The man was looking extraordinarily happy, Dunstanbury." - -"They were married?" - -"Oh yes. It's all right, I suppose--not that it seems to matter much -now, does it? Put on your coat and come to the window. You'll see a -sight you'll remember, I think." - -Together they went to the window. The sun had risen from behind the -mountains and flooded the city with light; the morning air was crisp and -fragrant. The market-place was thronged with people--men in line in -front, women, girls, and boys in a mass behind. They were all absolutely -quiet and silent. Opposite where they were was a raised platform of -wood, reached by steps from the ground; it was a rostrum for the use of -those who sold goods by auction in the market. A board on trestles had -been laid on this, and on the board was stretched the body of the King. -At his feet stood Lukovitch; behind were Max von Hollbrandt, Zerkovitch, -and Marie. At the King's head stood Sophy, and Peter Vassip knelt on the -ground beside her. She stood like a statue, white and still; but -Dunstanbury could see the Red Star glowing. - -Lukovitch seemed to have been speaking, although the sound of his voice -had not reached them through the closed window of the topmost room in -the inn. He spoke again now--not loudly, but in a very clear voice. - -"The King lies dead through treachery," he said. "In Slavna the German -woman rules, and her son, and the men who killed the King. Will you have -them to rule over you, men of Volseni?" - -A shout of "No!" rang out, followed again by absolute silence. Lukovitch -drew the curved sword that he wore and raised it in the air. All the -armed men followed his example; the rest, with the women and young -people, raised their right hands. It was their custom in calling Heaven -to witness. - -"God hears us!" said Lukovitch, and all the people repeated the words -after him. - -Dunstanbury whispered to Basil: "Do they mean to fight?" An eagerness -stirred in his voice. - -"Listen! He's speaking again." - -"Whom then will you have for your King, men of Volseni?" asked -Lukovitch. "There is one on whose finger the King has put the silver -ring of the Bailiffs of Volseni. With his own hand he set it there -before he died--he set it there when he made her his Queen, as you have -heard. Will you have the Bailiff of Volseni for your King?" - -A great shout of "Yes!" answered him. - -"You will have Sophia for your King?" - -"Sophia for our King!" they cried. - -Lukovitch raised his sword again; all raised swords or hands. The solemn -words "God hears us!" were spoken from every mouth. Lukovitch turned to -Sophy and handed his drawn sword to her. She took it. Then she knelt -down and kissed the King's lips. Rising to her feet again, she stood for -a moment silent, looking over the thronged market-square; yet she seemed -hardly to see; her eyes were vacant. At last she raised the sword to her -lips, kissed it, and then held it high in the air. - -"It was Monseigneur's wish. Let us avenge him! God hears me!" - -"God hears you!" came all the voices. - -The ceremony was finished. Six men took up the board on which the King -lay, carried it down from the rostrum, and along the street to the -guard-house. Sophy followed, and her friends walked after her. Still she -seemed as though in a dream; her voice had sounded absent, almost -unconscious. She was pale as death, save for the Red Star. - -Following her dead, she passed out of sight. Immediately the crowd began -to disperse, though most of the men with arms gathered round Lukovitch -and seemed to await his orders. - -Basil Williamson moved away from the window with a heavy sigh and a -gesture of dejection. - -"I wish we could get her safe out of it," he said. "Isn't it wonderful, -her being here?" - -"Yes--but I'd forgotten that." Dunstanbury was still by the window; he -had been thinking that his service now would not be to Monseigneur. Yet -no doubt Basil had mentioned the wisest form of service. Sophy's own few -words--the words for which she cited Heaven's witness--hinted at -another. - -But Basil had recalled his mind to the marvel. Moved as he had been by -his talk with Sophy, and even more by the scene which had just been -enacted before his eyes, his face lit up with a smile as he looked -across to Basil. - -"Yes, old fellow, wonderful! Sophy Grouch! Queen of Kravonia! It beats -Macbeth hollow!" - -"It's pretty nearly as dreary!" said Basil, with a discontented grunt. - -"I find it pretty nearly as exciting," Dunstanbury said. "And I hope for -a happier ending. Meanwhile"--he buckled the leather belt which held -his revolver round his waist--"I'm for some breakfast, and then I shall -go and ask that tall fellow who did all the talking if there's anything -I can do for King Sophia. By Jove! wouldn't Cousin Meg open her eyes?" - -"You'll end by getting yourself stuck up against the wall and shot," -Basil grumbled. - -"If I do, I'm quite sure of one thing, old fellow--and that is that your -wooden old mug will be next in the line, or thereabouts." - -"I say, Dunstanbury, I wish I could have saved him!" - -"So do I. Did you notice her face?" - -Williamson gave a scornful toss of his head. - -"Well, yes, I was an ass to ask that!" Dunstanbury admitted, candidly. -It would certainly not have been easy to avoid noticing Sophy's face. - -At six o'clock that morning Max von Hollbrandt took horse for Slavna. -His diplomatic character at once made it proper for him to rejoin his -Legation and enabled him to act as a messenger with safety to himself. -He carried the tidings of the death of the King and of the -proclamation--of Sophy. There was no concealment. Volseni's defiance to -Slavna was open and avowed. Volseni held that there was no true -Stefanovitch left, and cited the will of the last of the Royal House as -warrant for its choice. The gauntlet was thrown down with a royal air. - -It was well for Max to get back to his post. The diplomatists in Slavna, -and their chiefs at home, were soon to be busy with the affairs of -Kravonia. Mistitch had struck at the life of even more than his -King--that was to become evident before many days had passed. - - - - -XX - -THEY HAVE COLDS IN SLAVNA - - -It is permissible to turn with some relief--although of a kind more -congenial to the cynic than to an admirer of humanity--from the tragedy -of love in Volseni to the comedy of politics which began to develop -itself in Slavna from the hour of the proclamation of young Alexis. - -The first result of this auspicious event, following so closely on the -issue of Captain Mistitch's expedition, was to give all the diplomatists -bad colds. Some took to their beds, others went for a change of air; but -one and all had such colds as would certainly prevent them from -accepting royal invitations or being present at State functions. Young -Alexis had a cold, too, and was consequently unable to issue royal -invitations or take his part in State functions. Countess Ellenburg was -even more affected--she had lumbago; and even General Stenovics was -advised to keep quite quiet for a few days. - -Only Colonel Stafnitz's health seemed proof against the prevailing -epidemic. He was constantly to be seen about, very busy at the barracks, -very busy at Suleiman's Tower, very gay and cheerful on the terrace of -the Hotel de Paris. But then he, of course, had been in no way -responsible for recent events. He was a soldier, and had only obeyed -orders; naturally his health was less affected. He was, in fact, in -very good spirits, and in very good temper except when he touched on -poor Captain Hercules's blundering, violent ways. "Not the man for a -delicate mission," he said, decisively, to Captain Markart. The Captain -forbore to remind him how it was that Mistitch had been sent on one. The -way in which the Colonel expressed his opinion made it clear that such a -reminder would not be welcome. - -The coterie which had engineered the revolution was set at sixes and -sevens by its success. The destruction of their common enemy was also -the removal of their common interest. Sophy at Volseni did not seem a -peril real enough or near enough to bind them together. Countess -Ellenburg wanted to be Regent; Stenovics was for a Council, with himself -in the chair. Stafnitz thought himself the obvious man to be Commandant -of Slavna; Stenovics would have agreed--only it was necessary to keep an -eye on Volseni! Now if he were to be Commandant, while the Colonel took -the field with a small but picked force! The Colonel screwed up his -mouth at that. "Make Praslok your headquarters, and you'll soon bring -the Sheepskins to their senses," Stenovics advised insidiously. Stafnitz -preferred headquarters in Suleiman's Tower! He was not sure that coming -back from Praslok with a small force, however picked, would be quite as -easy as going there. - -In the back of both men's minds there was a bit of news which had just -come to hand. The big guns had been delivered, and were on their way to -Slavna, coming down the Krath in barges. They were consigned to the -Commandant. Who was that important officer now to be? - -When thieves fall out, honest men come by their own. The venerable -saying involves one postulate--that there shall be honest men to do it. -In high places in Slavna this seemed to be a difficulty, and it is not -so certain that Kravonia's two great neighbors, to east and west, quite -filled the gap. These Powers were exchanging views now. They were -mightily shocked at the way Kravonia had been going on. Their Ministers -had worse colds than any of the other Ministers, and their Press had a -great deal to say about civilization and such like topics. Kravonia was -a rich country, and its geographical position was important. The history -of the world seems to show that the standard of civilization and -morality demanded of a country depends largely on its richness and the -importance of its geographical position. - -The neighbor on the west had plenty of mountains, but wanted some -fertile plains. The neighbor on the east had fertile plains adjacent to -the Kravonian frontier, and would like to hold the mountain line as a -protection to them. A far-seeing statesman would have discerned how -important correct behavior was to the interests of Kravonia! The great -neighbors began to move in the matter, but they moved slowly. They had -to see that their own keen sense of morality was not opposed to the keen -sense of morality of other great nations. The right to feel specially -outraged is a matter for diplomatic negotiations, often, no doubt, of -great delicacy. - -So in the mean time Slavna was left to its own devices for a little -longer--to amuse itself in its light-hearted, unremorseful, extremely -unconscientious way, and to frown and shake a distant fist at grim, -gray, sad little Volseni in the hills. With the stern and faithful band -who mourned the dead Prince neither Stenovics nor Stafnitz seemed for -the moment inclined to try conclusions, though each would have been very -glad to see the other undertake the enterprise. In a military regard, -moreover, they were right. The obvious thing, if Sophy still held out, -was to wait for the big guns. When once these were in position, the old -battlements of Volseni could stand scarcely longer than the walls of -Jericho. And the guns were at the head of navigation on the Krath now, -waiting for an escort to convoy them to Slavna. Max von Hollbrandt--too -insignificant a person to feel called upon to have a cold--moved about -Slavna, much amused with the situation, and highly gratified that the -fruit which the coterie had plucked looked like turning bitter in their -mouths. - -Within the Palace on the river-bank young Alexis was strutting his brief -hour, vastly pleased; but Countess Ellenburg was at her prayers again, -praying rather indiscriminately against everybody who might be -dangerous--against Sophy at Volseni; against the big neighbors, whose -designs began to be whispered; against Stenovics, who was fighting so -hard for himself that he gave little heed to her or to her dignity; -against Stafnitz, who might leave her the dignity, such as it was, but -certainly, if he established his own supremacy, would not leave her a -shred of power. Perhaps there were spectres also against whose accusing -shades she raised her petition--the man she had deluded, the man she had -helped to kill; but that theme seems too dark for the comedy of Slavna -in these days. The most practical step she took, so far as this world -goes, was to send a very solid sum of money to a bank in Dresden: it was -not the first remittance she had made from Slavna. - -Matters stood thus--young Alexis having been on the throne in Slavna, -and Sophy in Volseni, for one week--when Lepage ventured out from -Zerkovitch's sheltering roof. He had suffered from a chill by no means -purely diplomatic; but, apart from that, he had been in no hurry to show -himself; he feared to see Rastatz's rat-face peering for him. But all -was quiet. Sterkoff and Rastatz were busy with their Colonel in -Suleiman's Tower. In fact, nobody took any notice of Lepage; his secret, -once so vital, was now gossip of the market-place. He was secure--but he -was also out of a situation. - -He walked somewhat forlornly into St. Michael's Square, and as luck -would have it--Lepage thought it very bad luck--the first man he ran -against was Captain Markart. Uneasy in his conscience, Lepage tried to -evade the encounter, but the Captain was of another mind. His head was -sound again, and, on cool reflection, he was glad to have slept through -the events of what Stenovics's proclamation had styled "the auspicious -day." He seized little Lepage by the arm, greeted him with cordiality, -and carried him off to drink at the Golden Lion. Without imputing any -serious lack of sobriety to his companion, Lepage thought that this -refreshment was not the first of which the good-humored Captain had -partaken that forenoon; his manner was so very cordial, his talk so very -free. - -"Well, here we are!" he said. "We did our best, you and I, Lepage; our -consciences are clear. As loyal subjects, we have now to accept the -existing regime." - -"What is it?" asked Lepage. "I've been in-doors a week." - -"It's Alexis--still Alexis! Long live Alexis!" said Markart, with a -laugh. "You surely don't take Baroness Dobrava into account?" - -"I just wanted to know," said Lepage, drinking thoughtfully. -"And--er--Captain--behind Alexis? Guiding the youthful King? Countess -Ellenburg?" - -"No doubt, no doubt. Behind him his very pious mother, Lepage." - -"And behind her?" persisted Lepage. - -Markart laughed, but cast a glance round and shook his head. - -"Come, come, Captain, don't leave an old friend in the dark--just where -information would be useful!" - -"An old friend! Oh, when I remember my aching head! You think me very -forgiving, Monsieur Lepage." - -"If you knew the night I spent, you'd forgive me anything," said Lepage, -with a shudder of reminiscence. - -"Ah, well," said Markart, after another draught, "I'm a soldier--I shall -obey my orders." - -"Perfect, Captain! And who will give them to you, do you think?" - -"That's exactly what I'm waiting to see. Oh, I've turned prudent! No -more adventures for me!" - -"I'm quite of your mind; but it's so difficult to be prudent when one -doesn't know which is the strongest side." - -"You wouldn't go to Volseni?" laughed Markart. - -"Perhaps not; but there are difficulties nearer home. If you went out of -this door and turned to the left, you would come to the offices of the -Council of Ministers. If you turned to the right, and thence to the -right again, and on to the north wall, you would come, Captain, to -Suleiman's Tower. Now, as I understand, Colonel Stafnitz--" - -"Is at the Tower, and the General at the offices, eh?" - -"Precisely. Which turn do you mean to take?" - -Markart looked round again. "I shall sit here for a bit longer," he -said. He finished his liquor, thereby, perhaps, adding just the touch of -openness lacking to his advice, and, leaning forward, touched Lepage on -the arm. - -"Do you remember the Prince's guns--the guns for which he bartered -Captain Hercules?" - -"Ay, well!" said Lepage. - -"They're on the river, up at Kolskoi, now. I should keep my eye on them! -They're to be brought to Slavna. Who do you think'll bring them? Keep -your eye on that!" - -"They're both scoundrels," said Lepage, rising to go. - -Markart shrugged his shoulders. "The fruit lies on the ground for the -man who can pick it up! Why not? There's nobody who's got any right to -it now." - -He expressed exactly the view of the two great neighbors, though by no -means in the language which their official communications adopted. - -Stenovics knew their views very well. He had also received a pretty -plain intimation from Stafnitz that the Colonel considered the escorting -of the guns to Slavna as a purely military task, appertaining not to the -Ministry of State, but to the officer commanding the garrison in the -capital. Stafnitz was that officer, and he proposed himself to go to -Kolskoi. Suleiman's Tower, he added, would be left in the trustworthy -hands of Captain Sterkoff. Again Stenovics fully understood; indeed, the -Colonel was almost brutally candid. His letter was nothing less than -plain word that power lay with the sword, and that the sword was in his -own hand. Stenovics had got rid of King Sergius only to fall under the -rule of Dictator Stafnitz! Was that to be the end of it? - -Stenovics preferred any other issue. The ideal thing was his own rule in -the name of young Alexis, with such diplomatic honoring and humoring of -Countess Ellenburg as might prove necessary. That was plainly impossible -so long as Stafnitz was master of the army; it would become finally -hopeless if Sterkoff held Suleiman's Tower till Stafnitz brought the -guns to Slavna. What, then, was Stenovics's alternative? For he was not -yet brought to giving up the game as totally lost. His name stood high, -though his real power tottered on a most insecure foundation. He could -get good terms for his assistance: there was time to make friends with -the mammon of unrighteousness. - -Privately, as became invalids, without the knowledge of any one outside -their confidential _entourage_, the representatives of the two great -neighbors received General Stenovics. They are believed to have -convinced him that, in the event of any further disorders in Kravonia, -intervention could not be avoided; troops were on either frontier, ready -for such an emergency; a joint occupation would be forced on the Allies. -With a great deal of sorrow, no doubt, the General felt himself driven -to accept this conclusion. - -He at once requested Stafnitz to fetch the guns to Slavna; he left the -Colonel full discretion in the matter. His only desire was to insure the -tranquillity of the capital, and to show Volseni how hopeless it was to -maintain the fanciful and absurd claims of Baroness Dobrava. The -representatives, it must be supposed, approved this attitude, and wished -the General all success; at a later date his efforts to secure order, -and to avoid the inevitable but regrettable result of any new -disturbance, were handsomely acknowledged by both Powers. General -Stenovics had not Stafnitz's nerve and dash, but he was a man of -considerable resource. - -A man of good feeling, too, to judge from another step he took--whether -with the cognizance of the representatives or entirely of his own motion -has never become known. He waited till Colonel Stafnitz, who returned a -civil and almost effusive reply to his communication, had set off to -fetch the guns--which, as has been seen, had been unloaded from the -railway and lay at Kolskoi, three days' journey up the Krath; then he -entered into communication with Volseni. He sent Volseni a private and -friendly warning. What was the use of Volseni holding out when the big -guns were coming? It could mean only hopeless resistance, more disorder, -more blood-shed. Let Volseni and the lady whose claims it supported -consider that, be warned in time, and acknowledge King Alexis! - -This letter he addressed to Zerkovitch. There were insuperable -diplomatic difficulties in the way of addressing it to Sophy directly. -"Madam I may not call you, and Mistress I am loath to call you," said -Queen Elizabeth to the Archbishop's wife: it was just a case of that -sort of difficulty. He could not call her Queen of Kravonia, and she -would be offended if he called her Baroness Dobrava. So the letter went -to Zerkovitch, and it went by the hand of one of Zerkovitch's -friends--so anxious was the General to be as friendly and conciliatory -as circumstances permitted. - -Much to his surprise, considerably to his alarm, Lepage was sent for to -the General's private residence on the evening of the day on which -Colonel Stafnitz set out for Kolskoi to fetch the guns. - -Stenovics greeted him cordially, smoothed away his apprehension, -acquainted him with the nature of his mission and with the gist of the -letter which he was to carry. Stenovics seemed more placid to-night than -for some time back--possibly because he had got Stafnitz quietly out of -Slavna. - -"Beg Monsieur Zerkovitch to give the letter to Baroness Dobrava (he -called her that to Lepage) as soon as possible, and to urge her to -listen to it. Add that we shall be ready to treat her with every -consideration--any title in reason, and any provision in reason, too. -It's all in my letter, but repeat it on my behalf, Lepage." - -"I shouldn't think she'd take either title or money, General," said -Lepage, bluntly. - -"You think she's disinterested? No doubt, no doubt! She'll be the more -ready to see the uselessness of prolonging her present attitude." He -grew almost vehement, as he laid his hand on a large map which was -spread out on the table in front of him. "Look here, Lepage. This is -Monday. By Wednesday evening Colonel Stafnitz will be at Kolskoi--here!" -He put his finger by the spot. "On Thursday morning he'll start back. -The barges travel well, and--yes--I think he'll have his guns here by -Sunday; less than a week from now! Yes, on Thursday night he ought to -reach Evena, on Friday Rapska, on Saturday the lock at Miklevni. Yes, on -Saturday the lock at Miklevni! That would bring him here on Sunday. Yes, -the lock at Miklevni on Saturday, I think." He looked up at Lepage -almost imploringly. "If she hesitates, show her that. They're bound to -be here in less than a week!" - -Lepage cocked his head on one side and looked at the Minister -thoughtfully. It all sounded very convincing. Colonel Stafnitz would be -at the lock at Miklevni on Saturday, and on Sunday with the guns at -Slavna. And, of course, arduous though the transport would be, they -could be before Volseni in two or three days more. It was really no use -resisting! - -Stenovics passed a purse over to Lepage. "For your necessary expenses," -he said. Lepage took up the purse, which felt well filled, and pocketed -it. "The Baroness mayn't fully appreciate what I've been saying," added -Stenovics. "But Lukovitch knows every inch of the river--he'll make it -quite plain, if she asks him about it. And present her with my sincere -respects and sympathy--my sympathy with her as a private person, of -course. You mustn't commit me in any way, Lepage." - -"I think," said Lepage, "that you're capable of looking after that -department yourself, General. But aren't you making the Colonel go a -little too fast?" - -"No, no; the barges will do about that." - -"But he has a large force to move, I suppose?" - -"Oh, dear, no! A large force? No, no! Only a company--just about a -hundred strong, Lepage." He rose. "Just about a hundred, I think." - -"Ah, then he might keep time!" Lepage agreed, still very thoughtfully. - -"You'll start at once?" the General asked. - -"Within an hour." - -"That's right. We must run no unnecessary risks; delay might mean new -troubles." - -He held out his hand and shook Lepage's warmly. "You must believe that I -respect and share your grief at the King's death." - -"Which King, General?" - -"Oh! oh! King Alexis, of course! We must listen to the voice of the -nation. Our new King lives and reigns. The voice of the nation, Lepage!" - -"Ah!" said Lepage, dryly. "I'd been suspecting some ventriloquists!" - -General Stenovics honored the sally with a broad smile. He thought the -representatives with colds would be amused if he repeated it. The pat on -the shoulder which he gave Lepage was a congratulation. "The animal is -so very inarticulate of itself," he said. - - - - -XXI - -ON SATURDAY AT MIKLEVNI! - - -Though not remote in distance, yet Volseni was apart and isolated from -all that was happening. Not only was nothing known of the two great -neighbors--nothing reached men in Volseni of the state of affairs in -Slavna itself. They did not know that the thieves were quarrelling about -the plunder, nor that the diplomatists had taken cold; they had not -bethought them of how the art of the ventriloquists would be at work. -They knew only that young Alexis reigned in Slavna by reason of their -King's murder and against the will of him who was dead; only that they -had chosen Sophia for their Queen because she had been the dead King's -wife and his chosen successor. - -All the men who could be spared from labor came into the city; they -collected what few horses they could; they filled their little fortress -with provisions. They could not go to Slavna, but they awaited with -confidence the day when Slavna should dare to move against them into the -hills. Slavna had never been able to beat them in their own hills yet; -the bolder spirits even implored Lukovitch to lead them down in a raid -on the plains. - -Lukovitch would sanction no more than a scouting party, to see whether -any movement were in progress from the other side. Peter Vassip rode -down with his men to within a few miles of Slavna. For result of the -expedition he brought back the news of the guns: the great guns, rumor -said, had reached Kravonia and were to be in Slavna in a week. - -The rank and file hardly understood what that meant; anger that their -destined and darling guns should fall into hostile hands was the feeling -uppermost. But the tidings struck their leaders home to the heart. -Lukovitch knew what it meant. Dunstanbury, who had served three years in -the army at home, knew very well. Covered by such a force as Stafnitz -could bring up, the guns could pound Volseni to pieces--and Volseni -could strike back not a single blow. - -"And it's all through her that the guns are here at all!" said -Zerkovitch, with a sigh for the irony of it. - -Dunstanbury laid his hand on Lukovitch's shoulder. "It's no use," he -said. "We must tell her so, and we must make the men understand. She -can't let them have their homes battered to pieces--the town with the -women and children in it--and all for nothing!" - -"We can't desert her," Lukovitch protested. - -"No; we must get her safely away, and then submit." - -Since Dunstanbury had offered his services to Sophy, he had assumed a -leading part. His military training and his knowledge of the world gave -him an influence over the rude, simple men. Lukovitch looked to him for -guidance; he had much to say in the primitive preparations for defence. -But now he declared defence to be impossible. - -"Who'll tell her so?" asked Basil Williamson. - -"We must get her across the frontier," said Dunstanbury. "There--by St. -Peter's Pass--the way we came, Basil. It's an easy journey, and I don't -suppose they'll try to intercept us. You can send twenty or thirty -well-mounted men with us, can't you, Lukovitch? A small party well -mounted is what we shall want." - -Lukovitch waved his hands sadly. "With the guns against us it would be a -mere massacre! If it must be, let it be as you say, my lord." His heart -was very heavy; after generations of defiance, Volseni must bow to -Slavna, and his dead Lord's will go for nothing! All this was the doing -of the great guns. - -Dunstanbury's argument was sound, but he argued from his heart as well -as his head. He was convinced that the best service he could render to -Sophy was to get her safely out of the country; his heart urged that her -safety was the one and only thing to consider. As she went to and fro -among them now, pale and silent, yet always accessible, always ready to -listen, to consider, and to answer, she moved him with an infinite pity -and a growing attraction. Her life was as though dead or frozen; it -seemed to him as though all Kravonia must be to her the tomb of him -whose grave in the little hill-side church of Volseni she visited so -often. An ardent and overpowering desire rose in him to rescue her, to -drag her forth from these dim cold shades into the sunlight of life -again. Then the spell of this frozen grief might be broken; then should -her drooping glories revive and bloom again. Kravonia and who ruled -there--ay, in his heart, even the fate of the gallant little city which -harbored them, and whose interest he pleaded--were nothing to him beside -Sophy. On her his thoughts were centred. - -Sophy's own mind in these days can be gathered only from what others -saw. She made no record of it. Fallen in an hour from heights of love -and hope and exaltation, she lay stunned in the abyss. In intellect calm -and collected, she seems to have been as one numbed in feeling, too -maimed for pain, suffering as though from a mortification of the heart. -The simple men and women of Volseni looked on her with awe, and -chattered fearfully of the Red Star: how that its wearer had been -predestined to high enterprise, but foredoomed to mighty reverses of -fortune. Amidst all their pity for her, they spoke of the Evil Eye; some -whispered that she had come to bring ruin on Volseni: had not the man -who loved her lost both Crown and life? - -And it was she through whom the guns had come! The meaning of the guns -had spread now to every hearth; what had once been hailed as an -achievement second only to her exploit in the Street of the Fountain -served now to point more finely the sharpening fears of superstition. -The men held by her still, but their wives were grumbling at them in -their homes. Was she not, after all, a stranger? Must Volseni lie in the -dust for her sake, for the sake of her who wore that ominous, -inexplicable Star? - -Dunstanbury knew all this; Lukovitch hardly sought to deny it, though he -was full of scorn for it; and Marie Zerkovitch had by heart the tales of -many wise old beldams who had prophesied this and that from the first -moment that they saw the Red Star. Surely and not slowly the enthusiasm -which had crowned Sophy was turning into a fear which made the people -shrink from her even while they pitied, even while they did not cease to -love. The hand of heaven was against her and against those who were -near her, said the women. The men still feigned not to hear; had they -not taken Heaven to witness that they would serve her and avenge the -King? Alas, their simple vow was too primitive for days like these--too -primitive for the days of the great guns which lay on the bosom of the -Krath! - -Dunstanbury had an interview with Sophy early on the Tuesday morning, -the day after Stafnitz had started for Kolskoi. He put his case with the -bluntness and honesty native to him. In his devotion to her safety he -did not spare her the truth. She listened with the smile devoid of -happiness which her face now wore so often. - -"I know it all," she said. "They begin to look differently at me as I -walk through the street--when I go to the church. If I stay here long -enough, they'll all call me a witch! But didn't they swear? And -I--haven't I sworn? Are we to do nothing for Monseigneur's memory?" - -"What can we do against the guns? The men can die, and the walls be -tumbled down! And there are the women and children!" - -"Yes, I suppose we can do nothing. But it goes to my heart that they -should have Monseigneur's guns." - -"Your guns!" Dunstanbury reminded her with a smile of whimsical -sympathy. - -"That's what they say in the city, too?" she asked. - -"The old hags, who are clever at the weather and other mysteries. And, -of course, Madame Zerkovitch!" - -Sophy's smile broadened a little. "Oh, of course, poor little Marie -Zerkovitch!" she exclaimed. "She's been sure I'm a witch ever since -she's known me." - -"I want you to come over the frontier with me--and Basil Williamson. -I've some influence, and I can insure your getting through all right." - -"And then?" - -"Whatever you like. I shall be utterly at your orders." - -She leaned her head against the high chair in which she sat, a chair of -old oak, black as her hair; she fixed her profound eyes on his. - -"I wish I could stay here--in the little church--with Monseigneur," she -said. - -"By Heavens, no!" he cried, startled into sudden and untimely vehemence. - -"All my life is there," she went on, paying no heed to his outburst. - -"Give life another chance. You're very young." - -"You can't count life by years, any more than hours by minutes. You -reckon the journey not by the clock, but by the stages you have passed. -Once before I loved a man--and he was killed in battle. But that was -different. I was very hurt, but I wasn't maimed. I'm maimed now by the -death of Monseigneur." - -"You can't bring ruin on these folk, and you can't give yourself up to -Stenovics." He could not trust himself to speak more of her feelings nor -of the future; he came back to the present needs of the case. - -"It's true--and yet we swore!" She leaned forward to him. "And -you--aren't you afraid of the Red Star?" - -"We Essex men aren't afraid, we haven't enough imagination," he -answered, smiling again. - -She threw herself back, crying low: "Ah, if we could strike one -blow--just one--for the oath we swore and for Monseigneur! Then perhaps -I should be content." - -"To go with me?" - -"Perhaps--if, in striking it, what I should think best didn't come to -me." - -"You must run no danger, anyhow," he cried, hastily and eagerly. - -"My friend," she said, gently, "for such as I am to-day there's no such -thing as danger. Don't think I value my position here or the title -they've given me, poor men! I have loved titles"--for a moment she -smiled--"and I should have loved this one, if Monseigneur had lived. I -should have been proud as a child of it. If I could have borne it by his -side for even a few weeks, a few days! But now it's barren and -bitter--bitter and barren to me." - -He followed the thoughts at which her words hinted; they seemed to him -infinitely piteous. - -"Now, as things have fallen out, what am I in this country? A waif and -stray! I belong to nobody, and nobody to me." - -"Then come away!" he burst out again. - -Her deep eyes were set on his face once more. "Yes, that's the -conclusion," she said, very mournfully. "We Essex people are sensible, -aren't we? And we have no imagination. Did you laugh when you saw me -proclaimed and heard us swear?" - -"Good Heavens, no!" - -"Then think how my oath and my love call me to strike one blow for -Monseigneur!" She hid her eyes behind her hand for a moment. "Aren't -there fifty--thirty--twenty, who would count their lives well risked? -For what are men's lives given them?" - -"There's one at least, if you will have it so," Dunstanbury answered. - -There was a knock on the door, and without waiting for a bidding -Zerkovitch came quickly in; Lukovitch was behind, and with him Lepage. -Ten minutes before, the valet had ridden up to the city gates, waving -his handkerchief above his head. - -Sophy gave a cry of pleasure at seeing him. "A brave man, who loved his -King and served Monseigneur!" she said, as she darted forward and -clasped his hand. - -Zerkovitch was as excited and hurried as ever. He thrust a letter into -her hand. "From Stenovics, madame, for you to read," he said. - -She took it, saying to Lepage with a touch of reproach: "Are you General -Stenovics's messenger now, Monsieur Lepage?" - -"Read it, madame," said he. - -She obeyed, and then signed to Lukovitch to take it, and to Dunstanbury -to read it also. "It's just what you've been saying," she told him with -a faint smile, as she sank back in the high oaken seat. - -"I am to add, madame," said Lepage, "that you will be treated with every -consideration--any title in reason, any provision in reason, too." - -"So the General's letter says." - -"But I was told to repeat it," persisted the little man. He looked round -on them. Lukovitch and Dunstanbury had finished reading the letter and -were listening, too. "If you still hesitated, I was to impress upon you -that the guns would certainly be in Slavna in less than a week--almost -certainly on Sunday. You know the course of the river well, madame?" - -"Not very well above Slavna, no." - -"In that case, which General Stenovics didn't omit to consider, I was to -remind you that Captain Lukovitch probably knew every inch of it." - -"I know it intimately," said Lukovitch. "I spent two years on the -timber-barges of the Krath." - -"Then you, sir, will understand that the guns will certainly reach -Slavna not later than Sunday." He paused for a moment, seeming to -collect his memory. "By Wednesday evening Colonel Stafnitz will be at -Kolskoi. On Thursday morning he'll start back. On that evening he ought -to reach Evena, on Friday Rapska." Lukovitch nodded at each name. Lepage -went on methodically. "On Saturday the lock at Miklevni. Yes, on -Saturday the lock at Miklevni!" He paused again and looked straight at -Lukovitch. - -"Exactly--the lock at Miklevni," said that officer, with another nod. - -"Yes, the lock at Miklevni on Saturday. You see, it's not as if the -Colonel had a large force to move. That might take longer. He'll be able -to move his company as quick as the barges travel." - -"The stream's very strong, they travel pretty well," said Lukovitch. - -"But a hundred men--it's nothing to move, Captain Lukovitch." He looked -round on them again, and then turned back to Sophy. "That's all my -message, madame," he said. - -There was a silence. - -"So it's evident the guns will be in Slavna by Sunday," Lepage -concluded. - -"If they reach Miklevni on Saturday--any time on Saturday--they will," -said Lukovitch. "And up here very soon after!" - -"The General intimated that also, Captain Lukovitch." - -"The General gives us very careful information," observed Dunstanbury, -looking rather puzzled. He was not so well versed in Stenovics's methods -as the rest. Lukovitch smiled broadly, and even Zerkovitch gave a little -laugh. - -"How are things in Slavna, Monsieur Lepage?" the last named asked. - -Lepage smiled a little, too. "General Stenovics is in full control of -the city--during Colonel Stafnitz's absence, sir," he answered. - -"They've quarrelled?" cried Lukovitch. - -"Oh no, sir. Possibly General Stenovics is afraid they might." He spoke -again to Sophy. "Madame, do you still blame me for being the General's -messenger?" - -"No, Monsieur Lepage; but there's much to consider in the message. -Captain Lukovitch, if Monseigneur had read this message, what would he -have thought the General meant?" - -Lukovitch's face was full of excitement as he answered her: - -"The Prince wouldn't have cared what General Stenovics meant. He would -have said that the guns would be three days on the river before they -came to Slavna, that the barges would take the best part of an hour to -get through Miklevni lock, that there was good cover within a quarter of -a mile of the lock--" - -Sophy leaned forward eagerly. "Yes, yes?" she whispered. - -"And that an escort of a hundred men was--well, might be--not enough!" - -"And that riding from Volseni--?" - -"One might easily be at Miklevni before Colonel Stafnitz and the guns -could arrive there!" - -Dunstanbury gave a start, Zerkovitch a chuckle, Lepage a quiet smile. -Sophy rose to her feet; the Star glowed, there was even color in her -cheeks besides. - -"If there are fifty, or thirty, or twenty," she said, her eyes set on -Dunstanbury, "who would count their lives well risked, we may yet -strike one blow for Monseigneur and for the guns he loved." - -Dunstanbury looked round. "There are three here," he said. - -"Four!" called Basil Williamson from the doorway, where he had stood -unobserved. - -"Five!" cried Sophy, and, for the first time since Monseigneur died, she -laughed. - -"Five times five, and more, if we can get good horses enough!" said -Captain Lukovitch. - -"I should like to join you, but I must go back and tell General -Stenovics that you will consider his message, madame," smiled Lepage. - - - - -XXII - -JEALOUS OF DEATH - - -In the end they started thirty strong, including Sophy herself. There -were the three Englishmen, Dunstanbury, Basil Williamson, and Henry -Brown, Dunstanbury's servant, an old soldier, a good rider and shot. The -rest were sturdy young men of Volseni, once destined for the ranks of -the Prince of Slavna's artillery; Lukovitch and Peter Vassip led them. -Not a married man was among them, for, to his intense indignation, -Zerkovitch was left behind in command of the city. Sophy would have this -so, and nothing would move her; she would not risk causing Marie -Zerkovitch to weep more and to harbor fresh fears of her. So they rode, -"without encumbrances," as Dunstanbury said, laughing--his spirits rose -inexpressibly as the moment of action came. - -Their horses were all that could be mustered in Volseni of a mettle -equal to the dash. The little band paraded in the market-place on Friday -afternoon; there they were joined by Sophy, who had been to pay a last -visit to Monseigneur's grave; she came among them sad, yet seeming more -serene. Her spirit was the happier for striking a blow in Monseigneur's -name. The rest of them were in high feather; the prospect of the -expedition went far to blot out the tragedy of the past and to veil the -threatening face of the future. As dusk fell, they rode out of the city -gate. - -Miklevni lies twenty miles up the course of the river from Slavna; but -the river flows there nearly from north to south, turning to the east -only four or five miles above the capital. You ride, then, from Volseni -to Miklevni almost in a straight line, leaving Slavna away on the left. -It is a distance of no more than thirty-five miles or thereabouts, but -the first ten consist of a precipitous and rugged descent by a -bridle-path from the hills to the valley of the Krath. No pace beyond a -walk was possible at any point here, and for the greater part of the way -it was necessary to lead the horses. When once the plain was reached, -there was good going, sometimes over country roads, sometimes over -grass, to Miklevni. - -It was plain that the expedition could easily be intercepted by a force -issuing from Slavna and placing itself astride the route; but then they -did not expect a force to issue from Slavna. That would be done only by -the orders of General Stenovics, and Lepage had gone back to Slavna to -tell the General that his message was being considered--very carefully -considered--in Volseni. General Stenovics, if they understood him -rightly, would not move till he heard more. For the rest, risks must be -run. If all went well, they hoped to reach Miklevni before dawn on -Saturday. There they were to lie in wait for Stafnitz--and for the big -guns which were coming down the Krath from Kolskoi to Slavna. - -Lukovitch was the guide, and had no lack of counsel from lads who knew -the hills as well as their sweethearts' faces. He rode first, and, while -they were on the bridle-path, they followed in single file, walking -their horses or leading them. Sophy and Dunstanbury rode behind, with -Basil Williamson and Henry Brown just in front of them. In advance, some -hundreds of yards, Peter Vassip acted as scout, coming back from time to -time to advise Lukovitch that the way was clear. The night fell fine and -fresh, but it was very dark. That did not matter; the men of Volseni -were like cats for seeing in the dark. - -The first ten miles passed slowly and tediously, but without mistake or -mishap. They halted on the edge of the plain an hour before midnight and -took rest and food--each man carried provisions for two days. Behind -them now rose the steep hills whence they had come, before them -stretched the wide plain; away on their left was Slavna, straight ahead -Miklevni, the goal of their pilgrimage. Lukovitch moved about, seeing -that every man gave heed to his horse and had his equipment and his -weapons in good order. Then came the word to remount, and between twelve -and one, with a cheer hastily suppressed, the troop set forth at a good -trot over the level ground. Now Williamson and Henry Brown fell to the -rear with three or four Volsenians, lest by any chance or accident Sophy -should lose or be cut off from the main body. Lukovitch and Peter Vassip -rode together at the head. - -To Dunstanbury that ride by night, through the spreading plain, was -wonderful--a thing sufficient in itself, without regard to its object or -its issue. He had seen some service before--and there was the joy of -that. He had known the comradeship of a bold enterprise--there was the -exaltation of that. He had taken great risks before--there was the -excitement of that. The night had ere now called him to the saddle--and -it called now with all its fascination. His blood tingled and burned -with all these things. But there was more. Beside him all the way was -the figure of Sophy dim in the darkness, and the dim silhouette of her -face--dim, yet, as it seemed, hardly blurred; its pallor stood out even -in the night. She engrossed his thoughts and spurred his speculations. - -What thoughts dwelt in her? Did she ride to death, and was it a death -she herself courted? If so, he was sworn in his soul to thwart her, even -to his own death. She was not food for death, his soul cried, -passionately protesting against that loss, that impoverishment of the -world. Why had they let her come? She was not a woman of whom that could -be asked; therefore it was that his mind so hung on her, with an -attraction, a fascination, an overbearing curiosity. The men of Volseni -seemed to think it natural that she should come. They knew her, then, -better than he did! - -Save for the exchange of a few words now and then about the road, they -had not talked; he had respected her silence. But she spoke now, and to -his great pleasure less sadly than he had expected. Her tone was light, -and witnessed to a whimsical enjoyment which not even memory could -altogether quench. - -"This is my first war, Lord Dunstanbury," she said. "The first time I've -taken the field in person at the head of my men!" - -"Yes, your Majesty's first campaign. May it be glorious!" he answered, -suiting his tone to hers. - -"My first and my last, I suppose. Well, I could hardly have looked to -have even one--in those old days you know of--could I?" - -"Frankly, I never expected to hold my commission as an officer from -you," he laughed. "As it is, I'm breaking all the laws in the world, I -suppose. Perhaps they'll never hear of it in England, though." - -"Where there are no laws left, you can break none," she said. "There are -none left in Kravonia now. There's but one crime--to be weak; and but -one penalty--death." - -"Neither the crime nor the penalty for us to-night!" he cried, gayly. -"Queen Sophia's star shines to-night!" - -"Can you see it?" she asked, touching her cheek a moment. - -"No, I can't," he laughed. "I forgot--I spoke metaphorically." - -"When people speak of my star, I always think of this. So my star shines -to-night? Yes, I think so--shines brightly before it sets! I wonder if -Kravonia's star, too, will have a setting soon--a stormy setting!" - -"Well, we're not helping to make it more tranquil," said Dunstanbury. - -He saw her turn her head suddenly and sharply towards him; she spoke -quickly and low. - -"I'm seeking a man's life in this expedition," she said. "It's his or -mine before we part." - -"I don't blame you for that." - -"Oh no!" The reply sounded almost contemptuous; at least it showed -plainly that her conscience was not troubled. "And he won't blame me -either. When he sees me, he'll know what it means." - -"And, in fact, I intend to help. So do we all, I think." - -"It was our oath in Volseni," she answered. "They think Monseigneur will -sleep the better for it. But I know well that nothing troubles -Monseigneur's sleep. And I'm so selfish that I wish he could be -troubled--yes, troubled about me; that he could be riding in the spirit -with us to-night, hoping for our victory; yet very anxious, very anxious -about me; that I could still bring him joy and sorrow, grief and -delight. I can't desire that Monseigneur should sleep so well. They're -kinder to him--his own folk of Volseni. They aren't jealous of his -sleep--not jealous of the peace of death. But I'm very jealous of it. -I'm to him now just as all the rest are; I, too, am nothing to -Monseigneur now." - -"Who knows? Who can know?" said Dunstanbury, softly. - -His attempted consolation, his invoking of the old persistent hope, the -saving doubt, did not reach her heart. In her great love of life, the -best she could ask of the tomb was a little memory there. So she had -told Monseigneur; such was the thought in her heart to-night. She was -jealous and forlorn because of the silent darkness which had wrapt her -lover from her sight and so enveloped him. He could not even ride with -her in the spirit on the night when she went forth to avenge the death -she mourned! - -The night broke towards dawn, the horizon grew gray. Lukovitch drew in -his rein, and the party fell to a gentle trot. Their journey was almost -done. Presently they halted for a few minutes, while Lukovitch and Peter -Vassip held a consultation. Then they jogged on again in the same order, -save that now Sophy and Dunstanbury rode with Lukovitch at the head of -the party. In another half-hour, the heavens lightening yet more, they -could discern the double row of low trees which marked, at irregular -intervals, the course of the river across the plain. At the same moment -a row of squat buildings rose in murky white between them and the -river-bank. Lukovitch pointed to it with his hand. - -"There we are, madame," he said. "That's the farm-house at the right -end, and the barn at the left--within a hundred yards of the lock. -There's our shelter till the Colonel comes." - -"What of the farmer?" asked Dunstanbury. - -"We shall catch him in his bed--him and his wife," said Lukovitch. -"There's only the pair of them. They keep the lock, and have a few acres -of pastureland to eke out their living. They'll give us no trouble. If -they do, we can lock them in and turn the key. Then we can lie quiet in -the barn; with a bit of close packing, it'll take us all. Peter Vassip -and I will be lock-keepers if anything comes by; we know the work--eh, -Peter?" - -"Ay, Captain; and the man--Peter's his name too, by-the-way--must give -us something to hide our sheepskins." - -Sophy turned to Dunstanbury. She was smiling now. - -"It sounds very simple, doesn't it?" she asked. - -"Then we watch our chance for a dash--when the Colonel's off his guard," -Lukovitch went on. - -"But if he won't oblige us in that way?" asked Dunstanbury, with a -laugh. - -"Then he shall have the reward of his virtue in a better fight for the -guns," said Lukovitch. "Now, lads, ready! Listen! I'm going forward with -Peter Vassip here and four more. We'll secure the man and his wife; -there might be a servant-girl on the premises too, perhaps. When you -hear my whistle, the rest of you will follow. You'll take command, my -lord?" He turned to Sophy. "Madame, will you come with me or stay here?" - -"I'll follow with Lord Dunstanbury," she said. "We ought all to be in -the barn before it's light?" - -"Surely! A barge might come up or down the river, you see, and it -wouldn't do for the men on board to see anybody but Vassip and me, who -are to be the lock-keepers." - -He and Peter Vassip rode off with their party of four, and the rest -waited in a field a couple of hundred yards from the barn--a dip in the -ground afforded fair cover. Some of the men began to dismount, but -Dunstanbury stopped them. "It's just that one never knows," he said; -"and it's better to be on your horse than off it in case any trouble -does come, you know." - -"There oughtn't to be much trouble with the lock-keeper and his wife--or -even with the servant-girl," said Basil Williamson. - -"Girls can make a difference sometimes," Sophy said, with a smile. "I -did once, in the Street of the Fountain over in Slavna there!" - -Dunstanbury's precaution was amply justified, for, to their -astonishment, the next instant a shot rang through the air, and, the -moment after, a loud cry. A riderless horse galloped wildly past them; -the sheepskin rug across the saddle marked it as belonging to a -Volsenian. - -"By Heaven, have they got there before us?" whispered Dunstanbury. - -"I hope so; we sha'n't have to wait," said Sophy. - -But they did wait there a moment. Then came a confused noise from the -long, low barn. Then a clatter of hoofs, and Lukovitch was with them -again; but his comrades were four men now, not five. - -"Hush! Silence! Keep cover!" he panted breathlessly. "Stafnitz is here -already; at least, there are men in the barn, and horses tethered -outside, and the barges are on the river, just above the lock. The -sentry saw us. He challenged and fired, and one of us dropped. It must -be Stafnitz!" - -Stafnitz it was. General Stenovics had failed to allow for the respect -which his colleague entertained for his abilities. If Stenovics expected -him back at Slavna with his guns on the Sunday, Stafnitz was quite clear -that he had better arrive on Saturday. To this end he had strained every -nerve. The stream was with him, flowing strong, but the wind was -contrary; his barges had not made very good progress. He had pressed the -horses of his company into service on the towing-path. Stenovics had not -thought of that. His rest at Rapska had been only long enough to give -his men and beasts an hour's rest and food and drink. To his pride and -exultation, he had reached the lock at Miklevni at nightfall on Friday, -almost exactly at the hour when Sophy's expedition set out on its ride -to intercept him. Men and horses might be weary now; Stafnitz could -afford to be indifferent to that. He could give them a good rest, and -yet, starting at seven the next morning, be in Slavna with them and the -guns in the course of the afternoon. There might be nothing wrong, of -course--but it was no harm to forestall any close and clever calculation -of the General's. - -"The sentry?" whispered Dunstanbury. - -"I had to cut him down. Shall we be at them, my lord?" - -"No, not yet. They're in the barn, aren't they?" - -"Yes. Don't you hear them? Listen! That's the door opened. Shall we -charge?" - -"No, no, not yet. They'd retreat inside, and it would be the devil then. -They'd have the pull of us. Wait for them to come out. They must send to -look for the sentry. Tell the men to lean right down in their -saddles--close down--close! Then the ground covers us. And now--silence -till I give the word!" - -Silence fell again for a few moments. They were waiting for a movement -from Stafnitz's men in the barn. Only Dunstanbury, bareheaded, risked a -look over the hillock which protected them from view. - -A single man had come out of the barn, and was looking about him for the -sentry who had fired. He seemed to suspect no other presence. Stafnitz -must have been caught in a sound nap this time. - -The searcher found his man and dropped on his knees by him for a moment. -Then he rose and ran hurriedly towards the barn, crying: "Colonel! -Colonel!" - -"Now!" whispered impetuous Lukovitch. - -But Dunstanbury pressed him down again, saying: "Not yet. Not yet." - -Sophy laid her hand on his arm. "Half of us to the barges," she said. - -In their eagerness for the fight, Lukovitch and Dunstanbury had -forgotten the main object of it. But the guns were what Monseigneur -would have thought of first--what Stafnitz must first think of too--the -centre of contest and the guerdon of victory. - - - - -XXIII - -A WOMAN AND A GHOST - - -For the history of this night from the enemy's side, thanks are due to -the memory, and to the unabashed courtesy, of Lieutenant Rastatz, who -came alive, if not with a whole skin, out of the encounter, and lived to -reach middle age under a new _regime_ so unappreciative of his services -that it cashiered him for getting drunk within a year from this date. He -ended his days as a billiard-marker at the Golden Lion--a fact agreeable -to poetic justice, but not otherwise material. While occupying that -capacity, he was always ready to open his mouth to talk, provided he -were afforded also a better reason for opening it. - -Stafnitz and his men felt that their hard work was done; they were -within touch of Slavna, and they had no reason, as they supposed, to -fear any attack. The Colonel had indulged them in something approaching -to a carouse. Songs had been sung, and speeches made; congratulations -were freely offered to the Colonel; allusions were thrown out, not too -carefully veiled, to the predicament in which Stenovics found himself. -Hard work, a good supper, and plentiful wine had their effect. Save the -sentries, all were asleep at ten o'clock, and game to sleep till the -reveille sounded at six. - -Their presence was a surprise to their assailants, who had, perhaps, -approached in too rash a confidence that they were first on the ground; -but the greater surprise befell those who had now to defend the barges -and the guns. When the man who had found the dead sentry ran back and -told his tale, all of them, from Stafnitz downward, conceived that the -attack must come from Stenovics; none thought of Sophy and her -Volsenians. There they were, packed in the barn, separated from their -horses, and with their carbines laid aside. The carbines were easily -caught up; the horses not so easily reached, supposing an active, -skilful enemy at hand outside. - -For themselves, their position was good to stand a siege. But Stafnitz -could not afford that. His mind flew where Sophy's had. Throughout, and -on both sides, the guns were the factor which dominated the tactics of -the fight. It was no use for Stafnitz to stay snug in the barn while the -enemy overpowered the bargees (supposing they tried to fight), disposed -of the sentry stationed on each deck, and captured the guns. Let the -assailant carry them off, and the Colonel's game was up! Whoever the foe -was, the fight was for the guns--and for one other thing, no doubt--for -the Colonel's life. - -"We felt in the deuce of a mess," Rastatz related, "for we didn't know -how many they were, and we couldn't see one of them. The Colonel walked -out of the barn, cool as a cucumber, and looked and listened. He called -to me to go with him, and so I did, keeping as much behind his back as -possible. Nothing was to be seen, nothing to be heard. He pointed to the -rising ground opposite. 'That must hide them,' he said. Back he went and -called the first half-company. 'You'll follow me in single file out of -the barn and round to the back of it; let there be a foot between each -of you--room enough to miss. When once you get in rear of the barn, make -for the barges. Never mind the horses. The second half-company will -cover the horses with their fire. Rastatz, see my detachment round, and -then follow. We'll leave the sergeant-major in command here. Now, quick, -follow me!' - -"Out he went, and the men began to follow in their order. I had to stand -in the doorway and regulate the distance between man and man. I hadn't -been there two seconds before a dozen heads came over the hill, and a -dozen rifles cracked. Luckily the Colonel was just round the corner. -Down went the heads again, but they'd bagged two of our fellows. I -shouted to more to come out, and at the same time ordered the -sergeant-major to send a file forward to answer the fire. Up came the -heads again, and they bagged three more. Our fellows blazed away in -reply, but they'd dropped too quickly--I don't think we got one. - -"Well, we didn't mind so much about keeping our exact distances after -that--and I wouldn't swear that the whole fifty of us faced the fire; it -was devilish disconcerting, you know; but in a few minutes thirty or -five-and-thirty of us got round the side of the barn somehow, and for -the moment out of harm's way. We heard the fire going on still in front, -but only in a desultory way. They weren't trying to rush us--and I don't -think we had any idea of rushing them. For all we knew, they might be -two hundred--or they might be a dozen. At any rate, with the advantage -of position, they were enough to bottle our men up in the barn, for the -moment at all events." - -This account makes what had happened pretty plain. Half of Sophy's -force had been left to hold the enemy, or as many of them as possible, -in the barn. They had dismounted, and, well covered by the hill, could -make good practice without much danger to themselves. Lukovitch was in -command of this section of the little troop. Sophy, Dunstanbury, and -Peter Vassip, also on foot (the horses' hoofs would have betrayed them), -were stealing round, intent on getting between the barges and any men -whom Stafnitz tried to place in position for their defence. After -leaving men for the containing party, and three to look after the -horses, this detachment was no more than a dozen strong. But they had -started before Stafnitz's men had got out of the barn, and, despite the -smaller distance the latter had to traverse, could make a good race of -it for the barges. They had all kept together, too, while the enemy -straggled round to the rear of the barn in single file. And they had one -great, perhaps decisive, advantage, of whose existence Peter Vassip, -their guide, was well aware. - -Forty yards beyond the farm a small ditch ran down to the Krath; on the -side near the farm it had a high, overhanging bank, the other side being -nearly level with the adjoining meadow. Thus it formed a natural trench -and led straight down to where the first of the barges lay. It would -have been open to an enfilade from the river, but Stafnitz had only one -sentry on each barge, and these men were occupied in staring at their -advancing companions and calling out to know what was the matter. As for -the bargees, they had wisely declared neutrality, deeming the matter no -business of theirs; shots were not within the terms of a contract for -transport. Stafnitz, not dreaming of an attack, had not reconnoitred -his ground. But Lukovitch knew every inch of it (had not General -Stenovics remembered that?), and so did Peter Vassip. The surprise of -Praslok was to be avenged. - -Rastatz takes up the tale again; his narrative has one or two touches -vivid with a local color. - -"When I got round to the rear of the barn, I found our fellows scattered -about on their bellies. The Colonel was in front on his belly, with his -head just raised from the ground, looking about him. I lay down, too, -getting my head behind a stone which chanced to be near me. I looked -about me too, when it seemed safe. And it did seem safe at first, for we -could hear nothing, and deuce a man could we see! But it wasn't very -pleasant, because we knew that, sure enough, they must be pretty near us -somewhere. Presently the Colonel came crawling back to me. 'What do you -make of it, Rastatz?' he whispered. Before I could answer, we heard a -brisk exchange of fire in front of the barn. 'I don't like it,' I said. -'I can't see them, and I've a notion they can see me, Colonel, and -that's not the pleasantest way to fight, is it?' 'Gad, you're right!' -said he, 'but they won't see me any the better for a cigarette'--and -then and there he lit one. - -"Well, he'd just thrown away his match when a young fellow--quite a lad -he was--a couple of yards from us, suddenly jumped from his belly on to -his knees and called out quite loud--it seemed to me he'd got a sort of -panic--quite loud, he called out: 'Sheepskins! Sheepskins!' I jumped -myself, and I saw the Colonel start. But, by Jove, it was true! When you -took a sniff, you could smell them. Of course I don't mean what the -better class wear--you couldn't have smelt the tunic our lamented -Prince wore, nor the one the witch decked herself out in--but you could -smell a common fellow's sheepskin twenty yards off--ay, against the -wind, unless the wind was mighty strong. - -"'Sheepskins it is!' said the Colonel with a sniff. 'Volsenians, by gad! -It's Mistress Sophia, Rastatz, or some of her friends, anyhow.' Then he -swore worthily: 'Stenovics must have put them up to this! And where the -devil are they, Rastatz?' He raised his head as he spoke, and got his -answer. A bullet came singing along and went right through his shako; it -came from the line of the ditch. He lay down again, laughed a little, -and took a puff at his cigarette before he threw it away. Just then one -of our sentries bellowed from the first barge: 'In the ditch! In the -ditch!' 'I wish you'd spoken a bit sooner,' says the Colonel, laughing -again." - -While this was passing on Stafnitz's side, Sophy and her party were -working quietly and cautiously down the course of the ditch. Under the -shelter of its bank they had been able to hold a brief and hurried -consultation. What they feared was that Stafnitz would make a dash for -the barges. Their fire might drop half his men, but the survivors, when -once on board--and the barges were drawn up to the edge of the -stream--would still be as numerous as themselves, and would command the -course of the ditch, which was at present their great resource and -protection. But if they could get on board before the enemy, they -believed they could hold their own; the decks were covered with -_impedimenta_ of one sort or another which would afford them cover, -while any party which tried to board must expose itself to fire to a -serious and probably fatal extent. - -So they worked down the ditch--except two of them. Little as they could -spare even two, it was judged well to leave these; their instructions -were to fire at short intervals, whether there was much chance of -hitting anybody or not. Dunstanbury hoped by this trick to make Stafnitz -believe that the whole detachment was stationary in the ditch thirty -yards or more from the point where it joined the river. Only ten strong -now--and one of them a woman--they made their way towards the mouth of -the ditch and towards the barges which held the prize they sought. - -But a diversion, and a very effective one, was soon to come from the -front of the barn. Fearing that the party under Sophy and Dunstanbury -might be overpowered, Lukovitch determined on a bold step--that of -enticing the holders of the barn from their shelter. He directed his men -to keep up a brisk fire at the door; he himself and another man--one -Ossip Yensko--disregarding the risk, made a rapid dash across the line -of fire from the barn, for the spot where the horses were. The fire -directed at the door successfully covered their daring movement; they -were among the horses in a moment, and hard at work cutting the bands -with which they were tethered; the animals were half mad with fright, -and the task was one of great danger. - -But the manoeuvre was eminently successful. A cry of "The horses! The -horses!" went up from the barn. Men appeared in the doorway; the -sergeant-major in command himself ran out. Half the horses were loose, -and stampeded along the towing-path down the river. "The horses! The -horses!" The defenders surged out of the barn, in deadly fear of being -caught there in a trap. They preferred the chances of the fire, and -streamed out in a disorderly throng. Lukovitch and Yensko cut loose as -many more horses as they dared wait to release; then, as the defenders -rushed forward, retreated, flying for their lives. Lukovitch came off -with a ball in his arm; Yensko dropped, shot through the heart. The men -behind the hill riddled the defenders with their fire. But now they were -by their horses--such as were left of them--nearer twenty than ten -dotted the grass outside the barn-door. And the survivors were -demoralized; their leader, the sergeant-major, lay dead. They released -the remaining horses, mounted, and with one parting volley fled down the -river. With a cry of triumph, Lukovitch collected the remainder of his -men and dashed round the side of the barn. The next moment Colonel -Stafnitz found himself attacked in his rear as well as held in check -from the ditch in his front. - -"For a moment we thought it was our own men," said Rastatz, continuing -his account, "and the Colonel shouted: 'Don't fire, you fools!' But then -they cheered, and we knew the Volsenian accent--curse them! 'Sheepskins -again!' said the Colonel, with a wry kind of smile. He didn't hesitate -then; he jumped up, crying: 'To the barges! To the barges! Follow me!' - -"We all followed: it was just as safe to go with him as to stay where -you were! We made a dash for it and got to the bank of the river. Then -they rose out of the ditch in front of us--and they were at us behind, -too--with steel now; they daren't shoot, for fear of hitting their own -people in our front. But the idea of a knife in your back isn't -pleasant, and in the end more of our men turned to meet them than went -on with the Colonel. I went on with him, though. I'm always for the -safest place, if there's one safer than another. But here there wasn't, -so I thought I might as well do the proper thing. We met them right by -the water's-edge, and the first I made out was the witch herself, in -sheepskins like the rest of them, white as a sheet, but with that -infernal mark absolutely blazing. She was between Peter Vassip and a -tall man I didn't know--I found out afterwards that he was the -Englishman Dunstanbury--and the three came straight at us. She cried: -'The King! the King!' and behind us we heard Lukovitch and his lot -crying: 'The King! the King!' - -"Our fellows didn't like it, that's the truth. They were uneasy in their -minds about that job of poor old Mistitch's, and they feared the witch -like the devil. The heart was out of them; one lad near me burst out -crying. A witch and a ghost didn't seem pleasant things to fight. Oh, it -was all nonsense, but you know what fellows like that are. Their cry of -'The King!' and the sight of the woman caused a moment's hesitation. It -was enough to give them the drop on us. But the Colonel never hesitated; -he flung himself straight at her, and fired as he sprang. I just saw -what happened before I got a crack on the crown of the head from the -butt-end of a rifle, which knocked me out of time. As the Colonel fired, -Peter Vassip flung himself in front of her, and took the bullet in his -own body. Dunstanbury jumped right on the Colonel, cut him on the arm so -that he dropped his revolver, and grappled with him. Dunstanbury dropped -his sword, and the Colonel's wasn't drawn. It was just a tussle. They -were tussling when the blood came flowing down into my eyes from the -wound on my head; I couldn't see anything more; I fainted. Just as I -went off I heard somebody cry: 'Hands up!' and I imagined the fighting -was pretty well over." - -The fighting was over. One scene remained which Rastatz did not see. -When Colonel Stafnitz, too, heard the call "Hands up!" when the firing -stopped and all became quiet, he ceased to struggle. Dunstanbury found -him suddenly changed to a log beneath him; his hands were already on the -Colonel's throat, and he could have strangled him now without -difficulty. But when Stafnitz no longer tried to defend himself, he -loosed his hold, got up, and stood over him with his hand on the -revolver in his belt. The Colonel fingered his throat a minute, sat up, -looked round, and rose to his feet. He saw Sophy standing before him; by -her side Peter Vassip lay on the ground, tended by Basil Williamson and -one of his comrades. Colonel Stafnitz bowed to Sophy with a smile. - -"I forgot you, madame," said Stafnitz. - -"I didn't forget Monseigneur," she answered. - -He looked round him again, shrugged his shoulders, and seemed to think -for a moment. There was an absolute stillness--a contrast to the -preceding turmoil. But the silence made uncomfortable men whom the fight -had not shaken. Their eyes were set on Stafnitz. - -"The Prince died in fair fight," he said. - -"No; you sent Mistitch to murder him," Sophy replied. Her eyes were -relentless; and Stafnitz was ringed round with enemies. - -"I apologize for this embarrassment. I really ought to have been -killed--it's just a mistake," he said, with a smile. He turned quickly -to Dunstanbury: "You seem to be a gentleman, sir. Pray come with me; I -need a witness." He pointed with his unwounded hand to the barn. - -Dunstanbury bowed assent. The Colonel, in his turn, bowed to Sophy, and -the two of them turned and walked off towards the barn. Sophy stood -motionless, watching them until they turned the corner; then she fell on -her knees and began to talk soothingly to Peter Vassip, who was hard -hit, but, in Basil Williamson's opinion, promised to do well. Sophy was -talking to the poor fellow when the sound of a revolver shot--a single -shot--came from the barn. Colonel Stafnitz had corrected the mistake. -Sophy did not raise her head. A moment later Dunstanbury came back and -rejoined them. He exchanged a look with Sophy, inclining his head as a -man does in answering "Yes." Then she rose. - -"Now for the barges and the guns," she said. - -They could not carry the guns back to Volseni; nor, indeed, was there -any use for them there now. But neither were Monseigneur's guns for the -enemies of Monseigneur. Under Lukovitch's skilled directions (his wound -proved slight) the big guns were so disabled as to remain of little -value, and the barges taken out into mid-stream and there scuttled with -their cargoes. While one party pursued this work, Dunstanbury made the -prisoners collect their wounded and dead, place them on a wagon, and set -out on their march to Slavna. Then his men placed their dead on -horses--they had lost three. Five were wounded besides Peter Vassip, but -none of them severely--all could ride. For Peter they took a cart from -the farm to convey him as far as the ascent to the hills; up that he -would have to be carried by his comrades. - -It was noon before all their work was done. The barges were settling in -the water. As they started to ride back to Volseni, the first sank; the -second was soon to follow it. - -"We have done our work," said Lukovitch. - -And Sophy answered, "Yes." - -But Stafnitz's men had not carried the body of their commander back. -They left it in the barn, cursing him for the trap he had led them into. -Later in the day, the panic-stricken lock-keeper stole out from the -cellar where he had hidden himself, and found it in the barn. He and his -wife lifted it with cursings, bore it to the river, and flung it in. It -was carried over the weir, and floated down to Slavna. They fished it -out with a boat-hook just opposite Suleiman's Tower. The hint to Captain -Sterkoff was a broad one. He reported a vacancy in the command, and sent -the keys of the fort to General Stenovics. It was Sunday morning. - -"The Colonel has got back just when he said he would. But where are the -guns?" asked General Stenovics of Captain Markart. The Captain had by -now made up his mind which turn to take. - -But no power ensued to Stenovics. At the best his fate was a soft -fall--a fall on to a cushioned shelf. The cup of Kravonia's iniquity, -full with the Prince's murder, brimmed over with the punishment of the -man who had caused it. The fight by the lock of Miklevni sealed -Kravonia's fate. Civilization must be vindicated! Long columns of -flat-capped soldiers begin to wind, like a great snake, over the summit -of St. Peter's Pass. Sophy watched them through a telescope from the old -wall of Volseni. - -"Our work is done. Monseigneur has mightier avengers," she said. - - - - -XXIV - -TRUE TO HER LOVE - - -Volseni forgave Sophy its dead and wounded sons. Her popularity blazed -up in a last fierce, flickering fire. The guns were taken; they would -not go to Slavna; they would never batter the walls of Volseni into -fragments. Slavna might be defied again. That was the great thing to -Volseni, and it made little account of the snakelike line which crawled -over St. Peter's Pass, and down to Dobrava, and on to Slavna. Let -Slavna--hated Slavna--reckon with that! And if the snake--or another -like it--came to Volseni? Well, that was better than knuckling down to -Slavna. To-night King Sergius was avenged, and Queen Sophia had returned -in victory! - -For the first time since the King's death the bell of the ancient church -rang joyously, and men sang and feasted in the gray city of the hills. -Thirty from Volseni had beaten a hundred from Slavna; the guns were at -the bottom of the Krath; it was enough. If Sophy had bidden them, they -would have streamed down on Slavna that night in one of those fierce -raids in which their forefathers of the Middle Ages had loved to swoop -upon the plain. - -But Sophy had no delusions. She saw her Crown--that fleeting phantom -ornament, fitly foreseen in the visions of a charlatan--passing from her -brow without a sigh. She had not needed Dunstanbury's arguments to -prove to her that there was no place for her left in Kravonia. She was -content to have it so; she had done enough. Sorrow had not passed from -her face, but serenity had come upon it in fuller measure. She had -struck for Monseigneur, and the blow was witness to her love. It was -enough in her, and enough in little Volseni. Let the mightier avengers -do the rest! - -She had allowed Dunstanbury to leave her after supper in order to make -preparations for a start to the frontier at dawn. "You must certainly -go," she had said, "and perhaps I'll come with you." - -She went at night up on to the wall--always her favorite place; she -loved the spaciousness of air and open country before her there. Basil -Williamson found her deep in thought when he came to tell her of the -progress of the wounded. - -"They're all doing well, and Peter Vassip will live. Dunstanbury has -made him promise to come to him when he's recovered, so you'll meet him -again at all events. And Marie Zerkovitch and her husband talk of -settling in Paris. You won't lose all your Kravonian friends." - -"You assume that I'm coming with you to-morrow morning?" - -"I'm quite safe in assuming that Dunstanbury won't go unless you do," he -answered, smiling. "We can't leave you alone here, you know." - -"I shouldn't stay here, anyhow," she said. "Or, at any rate, I should be -where nobody could hurt me." She pointed at a dim lantern, fastened to -the gate-tower by an iron clamp, then waved her hand towards the -surrounding darkness. "That's life, isn't it?" she asked. "If I believed -that I could go to Monseigneur, I would go to-night--nay, I would have -gone at Miklevni; it was only putting my head out of that ditch a minute -sooner! If I believed even that I could lie in the church there and know -that he was near! If I believed even that I could lie there quietly and -remember and think of him! You're a man of science--you're not a -peasant's child, as I am. What do you think? You mustn't wonder that -I've had my thoughts, too. At Lady Meg's we did little else than try to -find out whether we were going on anywhere else. That's all she cared -about. And if she does ever get to a next world, she won't care about -that; she'll only go on trying to find out whether there's still another -beyond. What do you think?" - -"I hardly expected to find you so philosophically inclined," he said. - -"It's a practical question with me now. On its answer depends whether I -come with you or stay here--by Monseigneur in the church." - -Basil said something professional--something about nerves and temporary -strain. But he performed this homage to medical etiquette in a rather -perfunctory fashion. He had never seen a woman more composed or more -obviously and perfectly healthy. Sophy smiled and went on: - -"But if I live, I'm sure at least of being able to think and able to -remember. It comes to a gamble, doesn't it? It's just possible I might -get more; it's quite likely--I think it's probable--I should lose even -what I have now." - -"I think you're probably right about the chances of the gamble," he told -her, "though no doubt certainty is out of place--or at least one doesn't -talk about it. Shall I tell you what science says?" - -"No," said Sophy, smiling faintly. "Science thinks in multitudes--and -I'm thinking of the individual to-night. Even Lady Meg never made much -of science, you know." - -"Do you remember the day when I heard you your Catechism in the avenue -at Morpingham?" - -"Yes, I remember. Does the Catechism hold good in Kravonia, though?" - -"It continues, anyhow, a valuable document in its bearing on this life. -You remember the mistake you made, I dare say?" - -"I've never forgotten it. It's had something to do with it all," said -Sophy. "That's how you, as well as Lord Dunstanbury, come in at the -beginning as you do at the end." - -"Has it nothing to do with the question now--putting it in any -particular phraseology you like?" In his turn he pointed at the smoky -lantern. "That's not life," he said, growing more earnest, yet smiling. -"That's now--just here and now--and, yes, it's very smoky." He waved his -hand over the darkness. "That's life. Dark? Yes, but the night will -lift, the darkness pass away; valley and sparkling lake will be there, -and the summit of the heaven-kissing hills. Life cries to you with a -sweet voice." - -"Yes," she murmured, "with a sweet voice. And perhaps some day there -would be light on the hills. But, ah, I'm torn in sunder this night. I -wish I had died there at Miklevni while my blood was hot." She paused a -long while in thought. Then she went on: "If I go, I must go while it's -still dark, and while these good people sleep. Go and tell Lord -Dunstanbury to be ready to start an hour before dawn; and do you and he -come then to the door of the church. If I'm not waiting for you there, -come inside and find me." - -He started towards her with an eager gesture of protest. She raised her -hand and checked him. - -"No, I've decided nothing. I can't tell yet," she said. She turned and -left him; he heard her steps descending the old winding stair which led -from the top of the wall down into the street. He did not know whether -he would see her alive again--and with her message of such ambiguous -meaning he went to Dunstanbury. Yet curiously, though he had pleaded so -urgently with her, though to him her death would mean the loss of one of -the beautiful things from out the earth, he was in no distress for her -and did not dream of attempting any constraint. She knew her -strength--she would choose right. If life were tolerable, she would take -up the burden. If not, she would let it lie unlifted at her quiet feet. - -His mood could not be Dunstanbury's, who had come to count her presence -as the light of the life that was his. Yet Dunstanbury heard the message -quietly, and quietly made every preparation in obedience to her bidding. -That done, he sat in the little room of the inn and smoked his pipe with -Basil. Henry Brown waited his word to take the horses to the door of the -church. Basil Williamson had divined his friend's feeling for Sophy, and -wondered at his calmness. - -"If I felt the doubt that you do, I shouldn't be calm," said -Dunstanbury. "But I know her. She will be true to her love." - -He could not be speaking of that love of hers which was finished, whose -end she was now mourning in the little church. It must be of another -love that he spoke--of one bred in her nature, the outcome of her -temperament and of her being the woman that she was. The spirit which -had brought her to Slavna had made her play her part there, had -welcomed and caught at every change and chance of fortune, had never -laid down the sword till the blow was struck--that spirit would preserve -her and give her back to life now--and some day give life back to her. - -He was right. When they came to the door of the church, she was there. -For the first time since Monseigneur had died, her eyes were red with -weeping; but her face was calm. She gave her hand to Dunstanbury. - -"Come, let us mount," she said. "I have said 'Good-bye.'" - -Lukovitch knew Dunstanbury's plans. He was waiting for them at the gate, -his arm in a sling, and with him were the Zerkovitches. These last they -would see again; it was probably farewell forever to gallant Lukovitch. -He kissed the silver ring on Sophy's finger. - -"I brought nothing into Kravonia," she said, "and I carry nothing out, -except this ring which Monseigneur put on my finger--the ring of the -Bailiffs of Volseni." - -"Keep it," said Lukovitch. "I think there will be no more Bailiffs of -Volseni--or some Prince, not of our choosing, will take the title by his -own will. He will not be our Bailiff, as Monseigneur was. You will be -our Bailiff, though our eyes never see you, and you never see our old -gray walls again. Madame, have a kindly place in your heart for Volseni. -We sha'n't forget you nor the blow we struck under your leadership. The -fight at Miklevni may well be the last that we shall fight as free men." - -"Volseni is written on my heart," she answered. "I shall not forget." - -She bade her friends farewell, and then ordered Lukovitch to throw open -the gate. She and the three Englishmen rode through, Henry Brown leading -the pack-horse by the bridle. The mountains were growing gray with the -first approaches of dawn. - -As she rode through, Sophy paused a moment, leaned sideways in her -saddle, and kissed the ancient lintel of the door. - -"Peace be on this place," she said, "and peace to the tomb where -Monseigneur lies buried!" - -"Peace be on thy head and fortune with thee!" answered Lukovitch in the -traditional words of farewell. He kissed her hand again, and they -departed. - -It was high morning when they rode up the ascent to St. Peter's Pass and -came to the spot where their cross-track joined the main road over the -pass from Dobrava and the capital. In silence they mounted to the -summit. The road under their horses' feet was trampled with the march of -the thousands of men who had passed over it in an irresistible advance -on Slavna. - -At the summit of the pass they stopped, and Sophy turned to look back. -She sat there for a long while in silence. - -"I have loved this land," at last she said. "It has given me much, and -very much it has taken away. Now the face of it is to be changed. But in -my heart the memory of it will not change." She looked across the -valley, across the sparkling face of Lake Talti, to the gray walls of -Volseni, and kissed her hand. "Farewell, Monseigneur!" she whispered, -very low. - -The day of Kravonia was done. The head of the great snake had reached -Slavna. Countess Ellenburg and young Alexis were in flight. Stenovics -took orders where he had looked to rule. The death of Monseigneur was -indeed avenged. But there was no place for Sophy, the Queen of a -tempestuous hour. - -They set their horses' heads towards the frontier. They began the -descent on the other side. The lake was gone, the familiar hills -vanished; only in the eye of memory stood old Volseni still set in its -gray mountains. Sophy rode forth from Kravonia in her sheepskins and her -silver ring--the last Queen of Kravonia, the last Bailiff of Volseni, -the last chosen leader of the mountain men. But the memory of the Red -Star lived after her--how she loved Monseigneur and avenged him, how her -face was fairer than the face of other women, and more pale--and how the -Red Star glowed in sorrow and in joy, in love and in clash of arms, -promising to some glory and to others death. In the street of Volseni -and in the cabins among the hills you may hear the tale of the Red Star -yet. - -As she passed the border of the land which was so great in her life, by -a freak of memory Sophy recalled a picture till now forgotten--a woman, -unknown, untraced, unreckoned, who had passed down the Street of the -Fountain, weeping bitterly--an obscure symbol of great woes, of the -tribute life pays to its unresting enemies. - -Yet to the unconquerable heart life stands unconquered. What danger had -not shaken not even sorrow could overthrow. She rode into the future -with Dunstanbury on her right hand--patience in his mind, and in his -heart hope. Some day the sun would shine on the summit of heaven-kissing -hills. - - -THE END - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sophy of Kravonia, by Anthony Hope - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOPHY OF KRAVONIA *** - -***** This file should be named 40414.txt or 40414.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/4/1/40414/ - -Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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